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Athena hustled back to her spot behind the counter and tried to appear as though she hadn’t been eavesdropping. Or swooning over the way Chad had shoved Howell from the building without even touching him.

Swoony.

Delicious.

And so off-limits.

And why was she swooning? The man was a hot mess. Who brought a “hostess gift” to a video shoot? And expensive jewelry at that?

He was trying to bribe her into forgiving him, even though he didn’t deserve it.

She ought to return his gorgeous little earrings out of principle.

As Chad rounded the corner into the kitchen, she schooled her expression, set down her phone, where she’d been pretending to text her sister, and lifted her eyebrows. “I have a family supper in an hour.”

He gave a curt nod, his expression dark, hinting at protectiveness or anger. She wasn’t sure which. He glanced at the camera. “That thing still rolling?”

She shrugged and pulled at the neck of her sweater. It felt hot in here all of a sudden.

“All right,” he announced. “From the top.”

Suddenly he was all business, taking the cooking as seriously as his practices. Yeah, she’d watched a couple. It was her job . She needed to see what her players were doing on the ice so she’d know how best to fuel them. That was all.

“What’s your deal?” she asked Chad.

“There is no deal.”

There certainly was. He’d rammed his way into this project, was being charming but not smarmy, and then he’d defended her like she was someone important to him.

“Do you need to wash mushrooms?” Chad held up a handful. “Because I was told they grow in manure.”

“Commercially grown mushrooms aren’t,” Athena said.

“We should introduce ourselves.”

“Why? So you can finally get my name right?”

“To the camera. For the intro.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Chad dropped one elbow to the counter and grinned at the camera. “I’m Mullens, forward for the San Antonio Dragons. And today our gorgeous team dietitian is working me in the kitchen.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Seriously?”

“Flirty stuff sells. Smile to the camera.”

“I don’t flirt.”

“Yeah.” His face scrunched into a frown as he looked at her. “It would probably kill you.”

“Hey!” She gave him a playful shove, immediately embarrassed for acting flirtatious.

Damn his charm and the fancy earrings. He was winning her over despite herself.

Chad turned back to the camera. “It’s going to get hot in here, so stay tuned.”

Athena sighed. “There’s going to be so much editing to do,” she muttered, then pasted on a smile.

“No, give us a real one,” he said.

She widened it.

“No, not the sweet shark smile you get when you report a player to the coach.”

Her smile disappeared. She didn’t actually enjoy that. She’d much rather they’d follow her plans willingly, and get fitter and stronger.

“Fine.” She turned to the camera, knowing her expression was slightly dark.

Really, just a typical around-Chadwick kind of look.

“I’m Athena Gavras, author of the cookbook Eat Like a Player .

” She held up a giant knife. “And today I’m not only going to show you how to make a quick, healthy breakfast, but also how to murder conceited players who think they’re above following my dietary rules. ”

She gave Chad a fiendish grin, and he took an involuntary half step back. With rounded eyes, he stared at the camera.

“I’m going to stay right over here.” He picked up the bowl of chopped spinach. “And eat my greens.” He shoved a handful in his mouth, leaving most of it sticking out, like a horse eating grass.

Schooling her smirk, Athena slid the knife toward him, handle first. “But as a show of trust…how about you finish chopping the mushrooms.”

“If I disappear,” he stage-whispered to the camera, “check her alibi.”

“Oh, I’ll have a solid one, even though you’ll be in the trunk of my car.” She patted his broad shoulder. “But don’t worry, I’ll head up a search party to come looking for you.” She gave him a syrupy smile. “Because I care.”

He began slicing mushrooms. “Be sure to check her trunk first.”

She nudged him away from the cutting board, then took the knife from his grip.

Chad cowered and raised his hands playfully. “Please don’t murder me.”

“The way you’re murdering these poor mushrooms?

” She shook her head, then swiftly removed the tough stem ends.

“You’ll need to forgive him,” she said, demonstrating how to slice the mushrooms. “He knows his way around a great many things. Although the kitchen and my recipes and diet plans are not on that list. You can learn alongside him if you’re a newbie, too. ”

She gave him a sweet, placating smile while continuing to chop, secretly enjoying herself much more than she could ever have anticipated.

“It’ll be a miracle if they can turn that mess into a video worth sharing with the world.” Athena jerked a thumb toward the kitchen, where they’d just finished filming.

Howell and Nuvella had left, having spent most of the remaining time in the alley.

Athena was acting almost friendly now, and had invited him to the front of her soon-to-be bookstore and café for a coffee. A Christmas miracle?

This part of the building was as much of a disaster zone as the back, but there was a shiny machine on the front counter, near where a cash register would likely go, and a promising hint of espresso in the air.

Athena’s fuzzy sweater hugged her curves like a reverent lover while she worked levers on the coffee machine, and Mullens wondered if the fabric was as soft as it looked.

“Are you done?” A woman with untamed, wavy black hair popped up from behind a stack of boxes near the front window.

Athena sucked in a breath and pressed a hand to her chest, and Mullens instinctively stepped between the two.

“Meddy!” Athena scolded. “You scared me.”

“Sorry, I was sorting.” She winced, stretching her lower back, hands on her hips. “I think I’ve done all I can. Any word on the shelves?”

“Myles said he’d come install them after Christmas.”

“Good.”

“You must be Athena’s sister?” Mullens stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Mullens.”

She sealed her lips and she hummed a long, thoughtful “ hmm” while looking him over.

“I’m Meddy. Welcome to the future Huckleberry Bookshop.

” She crossed the distance to shake his hand, giving it one quick pump before she turned and slipped to the door, adding, “Catch y’all later!

I’ll be shooting darts with Dad at the Watering Hole if you need me. ”

Before the door had a chance to close, her head popped back through. “Don’t forget—Mom and Dad’s at five-thirty, and bring our cinnamon for the melomakarona. Dad forgot to get more.”

Athena, quick as a baseball pitcher trying to strike out a batter, tossed a glass shaker of cinnamon to her sister. “Take it with you.”

She caught it and frowned at the container. “I have to play darts with cinnamon in my pocket?”

“Do you want cookies later? Because you know I’ll forget.”

Meddy stuck out her tongue.

Mullens turned to Athena as her sister left, but she was already back to making the espresso machine steam and hiss.

“You were surprisingly comfortable in the kitchen,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Make sure that’s decaf and sugar free,” he teased, as she dropped an espresso shot into the latte she was making.

“It’s better with sugar,” she said absently. “And it’s not like you follow the rules anyway, right?”

“Are you enabling me? No!” He gasped dramatically. “You’re setting me up. You’re framing me. Where’s the camera?” He glanced around as though afraid he was being secretly recorded. “Are you live-streaming this to Louis?”

She shook her head, actually smiling at his jokes. Progress.

“It’s about moderation, right?” Her usual tough, rule-follower persona appeared to be long gone. “Plus tomorrow is Christmas. The biggest dietary-rule-breaking day of the year.”

“I thought you’d be into tea, not coffee.”

“Who said I don’t have a thing for tea? Huckleberry, blueberry, peach… Some teas are high in antioxidants, you know.” She cast another glance over her shoulder.

“Who’s this guy?” Mullens asked, noticing a gray tabby curled up in a basket set on top of some boxes.

The cat’s head seemed too big for its body, but judging from the overflowing dish of dry food on the floor, it wouldn’t be long before the feline’s skinny torso caught up with the size of its noggin.

“Clem. Brant says we bought his house, and that he has rights. Can’t give him the boot—not that we would.”

“The cat’s name is Clem?” Mullens confirmed, rubbing its ears.

“Yeah.”

The feline closed his amber eyes and smiled, leaning into Mullens’ hand. “Who’s Brant?” Boyfriend? Landlord?

“He’s the local animal control officer and veterinarian.” She gestured toward the back of the building. “There’s a broken vent that leads to the alley that Clem uses as a cat door.”

“Will you take him home once you open up shop?” Having a cat in a working café was surely a no-no.

She shrugged and passed a chipped white cup his way.

The drink smelled heavenly.

She took a sip of her own latte, her lashes fluttering as she enjoyed the hit of hot liquid. And then it was back to business with her watching him warily over the rim of her cup.

This would be a good time to confess that he didn’t flaunt her rules nearly as much as he let everyone believe.

“Wait. I get the name. Clem as in Clemens?”

Athena nodded, a lock of hair falling forward and brushing her cheek. She quickly tucked it back behind her ear, but it escaped again.

“You named him?”

“Brant did.”

“Clem,” Mullens mumbled, petting the cat. Named after Samuel Clemens, the man who wrote Huckleberry Finn under the famous pen name of Mark Twain. “Clever.” He said to the animal, “ Suits you and your giant head.”

Mullens took a sip of his latte and the sweetness hit his taste buds with a one-two knockout punch. His eyelids drifted shut. He missed sugar.

“Good, right?”

He opened his eyes to find Athena grinning at him.

Mullens set down his cup, feeling uncomfortable. He gestured to the mishmash surrounding them. Unassembled bookshelves, stacks of boxes and dishes.

“When do you open?”

“Next month.”

He choked on an inhale. “And you’re doing this while publishing a cookbook and working for the Dragons?” He’d pegged her as an overachiever, but this was crazy. “Don’t enjoy having free time, huh?”

She sipped her coffee, not answering, just glancing around the room as though adding things to her mental to-do list.

“I’m the same,” he said. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

“Open stores, obviously.” She grinned, and he chuckled.

“Are those boxes in your office at the arena for here?”

“Hey, do you want that in a cup to-go? It’s Christmas Eve.” She checked her watch. “I’m sure you have places to be.”

She was kicking him out? Already?

“Thanks.” He handed her his cup. As tasty as it was, he’d seen how much sweetener had gone into it. Taking the drink with him would be a polite way to avoid finishing it, as well as the inevitable sugar crash later tonight.

Athena opened a box, pulling out a stack of paper cups. She grabbed his mug, poured the contents into the disposable one and handed it to him. “Sorry, I’m not sure where the lids are.”

“You know, I can recommend a good business coach if you need one.”

“We’re going to run this ourselves,” she said, gently herding him toward the shop’s front door.

“No, not a manager. A coach. Basically, they help you prioritize, deal with overwhelm and mindset, as well as keep you focused on your vision.”

Athena had been reaching for the door’s lock, but lowered her hand, peering at him. “Do you have a business coach?”

“Of course.”

Her eyes crinkled with amusement, her grin disbelieving. She unlocked the door and gave it a yank to let him out onto the sidewalk in front of his parked car.

“No, really,” he said. “How do you think I’ve leveraged my position in the NHL? Fame doesn’t just happen. The commercials, product endorsements… This is a business, and my image has been carefully cultivated.”

“So you’re not actually a playboy?” She pointed at his beautiful Porsche from the doorway. “Rich man with fast cars?”

“Well,” he said with a grin, “everything good should be based in truth.”

The door closed on him, and he sighed, wondering if he’d ever figure out the key to unlocking Athena Gavras.