Page 19 of Rookie’s Redemption (Iron Ridge Icehawks #5)

Chapter Twelve

Mia

I carefully check on the four puppies who've somehow managed to survive their rough start in life. Each tiny ball of fur is breathing steadily, their little bellies round with this morning's successful feeding.

"Come on, Zeus," I murmur to the runt of the litter, a scrappy little guy who's been fighting harder than anyone expected. "Just keep growing for me, okay?"

Zeus responds by trying to chew on my finger with his needle-sharp puppy teeth, which I'm choosing to interpret as a good sign.

"How are our miracle babies doing?" Zoe appears beside me, cradling Princess in her arms like the pug is her own personal therapy animal.

"Better every day. Dr. Martinez says if they keep gaining weight like this, they'll be ready for adoption in a few weeks."

"That's amazing." Zoe settles into the chair beside me, scratching Princess behind the ears. "You saved them, Mia. All four of them."

We saved them. Ryder and I, working together through those first critical nights. Him holding bottles while I monitored temperatures, both of us taking turns with the two-hour feeding schedule that nearly killed us both.

"Speaking of saving things," Zoe says with that mischievous teenage girl glint in her eye that means trouble. "How's your neck feeling today?"

My hand flies instinctively to my throat, where I've been strategically arranging my hair all week to hide what is definitely, absolutely, not a hickey.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mhmm." Zoe's grin is pure evil. "Must be a really aggressive mosquito bite. During a snowstorm."

"Shut up you. Help me with this checklist." I grab the clipboard, scanning the endless list of things that need to happen before tonight's game.

My phone buzzes for what feels like the hundredth time today. Another interview request from a sports blogger who somehow got wind of the "heartwarming story behind tonight's Icehawks fundraiser event."

God, when did my life become a heartwarming story?

"You know," Zoe says, watching me decline yet another call, "for someone who's about to have the best night of her life, you look like you're about to throw up."

"I'm not about to throw up. I'm just... processing."

"Processing the fact that Ryder Scott organized an entire charity event for this shelter? Or processing the fact that half the town is going to be watching you two tonight like you're the main entertainment?"

Both. Definitely both.

The radio interview this morning was bad enough.

Sitting in the local station's tiny studio while the DJ asked increasingly personal questions about my "relationship" with Iron Ridge's golden boy.

Then the surprise visit from the Iron Ridge Gazette photographer who wanted to capture "the woman behind the cause. "

Every time I think about tonight—about walking into that arena with thousands of eyes on me, about sitting in whatever VIP section Sophia has undoubtedly arranged, about being publicly linked to Ryder in a way that makes this real —my stomach does acrobatic routines that would impress an Olympic gymnast.

"You're right. I should probably stay here tonight," I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "Make sure the puppies are okay. Monitor their feeding schedule."

Zoe stares at me like I've announced my intention to become a professional yodeler.

"Mia Harper. Are you seriously trying to skip your own charity event?"

"I'm not skipping it. I'm being responsible. These puppies need—"

"These puppies need someone who knows what she's doing to take care of them.

" Zoe stands up, hands on her hips in a pose that's remarkably intimidating for someone who weighs ninety pounds soaking wet.

"Which is me. The person who's been helping you every day for the past month.

The person who handled things just fine the other night when you were.

.." She makes exaggerated smooching sounds that make my face catch fire.

"We didn't—that's not—"

"When you were having 'adult' sleepovers with hockey players," she finishes with a grin that's way too sassy to be cute.

"Oh my God. You're fifteen. You shouldn't even know what adult sleepovers are."

"I'm not six years old, Mia. And I'm also not blind." She points at my neck again. "That's some quality adult sleepover evidence right there."

Before I can do anything, the front door crashes open with enough force to rattle the mismatched picture frames hanging on the peeling paint of the wall.

The sudden noise sets off a chain reaction of barking from the kennel area. Twenty-six dogs are now expressing their opinions about unexpected visitors in a cacophony that makes the four tiny puppies beneath me startle and whimper in their makeshift nest.

"KIDNAPPING TIME!"

Sophia storms through the entrance like a well-dressed tornado. Behind her, Natalie and Lucy follow with the kind of determined expressions that spell trouble for anyone in their path.

"Oh good," I mutter. "The cavalry has arrived."

"Mia Harper," Sophia announces, pulling off leather gloves and shoving them in her coat pocket. "You have exactly three hours to transform from crazy animal lady into knockout charity event co-host."

Lucy pops up beside her. "And lucky for you, we're here to make it happen!"

"I don't need transforming. I need to check on—"

"The puppies are fine," Natalie interrupts, already scanning the kennel area behind us. "They're gaining weight, breathing normally, and clearly thriving under your care. They'll be even more fine for the four hours you'll be away tonight."

"Four hours? The game's only three periods!"

"Plus pre-game reception, intermission photos, post-game celebration if they win," Lucy lists off on her fingers. "Trust me, I've planned the timeline down to the minute."

Zoe, the little traitor, is practically vibrating with excitement as she bounces Princess in her arms.

"Go," she says, shooing me toward my would-be kidnappers. "I've got everything under control here. You've trained me well. Besides, I want to hear all the gossip tomorrow, and I can't do that if you hide in the shelter all night like some kind of hockey hermit."

"I'm not a hockey hermit. I just don't—"

"NOPE!" Sophia claps her hands twice, the sound echoing through the shelter like a starter pistol that starts up the barking mayhem again. "No more excuses. You're coming with us right now, or we're carrying you out of here."

"You wouldn't dare."

The three of them exchange looks, and suddenly I'm surrounded. Lucy grabs my left arm, Natalie takes my right, and Sophia steps behind me like she's prepared to physically lift me if necessary.

"We absolutely would dare," Sophia warns. "Ask Blake how I feel about people who don't follow my carefully planned schedules."

Zoe waves from behind the front desk, still cradling Princess. "Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"You're fifteen! You wouldn't do anything!"

My 'friends' scurry me away until I'm nestled in a corner booth at Iron Ridge's newest restaurant, The Lookout Lodge , watching Sophia examine the extravagant cocktail menu.

The place is exactly what you'd expect from a restaurant that opened specifically to cater to the town's newfound prosperity thanks to the Icehawks. Exposed brick walls, Edison bulb lighting, and enough rustic charm to make a Pinterest board weep with joy.

"You need something with champagne," Sophia declares, not looking up from the menu. "Something celebratory. After all, tonight is a big deal."

"It's a hockey game," I protest weakly.

"It's your hockey game," Natalie corrects, settling beside me with a cocktail that's an alarming shade of pink and garnished with what appears to be crystallized rose petals. "There's a difference."

Lucy slides in across from us, already halfway through something that looks like liquid gold and smells like heaven. "So. Has anyone mentioned that the local news is planning to interview you during the first intermission?"

My stomach drops through the floor. "They're WHAT?"

"Relax," Sophia waves a dismissive hand. "I already talked to them. Two questions max, both about the shelter and what the money will go towards."

My mind races through the shelter's endless needs.

The ancient AC unit that rattles like it's possessed. The leaky roof over the cat room. The desperately needed expansion for a dedicated quarantine space. Medical supplies. A new bathing station. Updated adoption software.

Maybe even hiring actual staff.

But I'll never have enough money for all of that. The reality stings, but I force myself to breathe. Because whatever happens tonight, something is better than nothing, and it's all thanks to Ryder.

He gave me this chance to help the animals I love.

A server appears beside our table like something out of a fairy tale. Tall, dark hair, cheekbones that could cut glass, and the kind of smile that suggests he moonlights as a model when he's not carrying artisanal cocktails.

"Ladies," he says, voice smooth as silk, "I'm Marcus, and I'll be taking care of you this afternoon. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

Sophia barely glances at him, but I notice Natalie and Lucy exchange appreciative looks that would have Coach Brody and Connor puffing their chests out like a possessive baboon.

"Four champagne cocktails," Sophia orders with the confidence of someone accustomed to making decisions for entire groups. "The lavender honey fizz. And we'll need to see the appetizer menu."

"Excellent choice. And might I say," Marcus turns that magazine-worthy smile directly on me, "you ladies picked the perfect day for a celebration. It's not often we get to host Iron Ridge royalty."

I blink at him. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Everyone in town knows about tonight's charity event." His grin widens, and I swear he just winked at me. "The whole town's talking about Ryder Scott's grand gesture for his lady."