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L auren

"You're humming," Barb observed, looking up from the surgical schedule she was reviewing. "Actual humming. In the workplace. At 7:30 in the morning. Who are you and what have you done with Lauren Mackenzie?"

Lauren paused in her documentation, suddenly aware of the melody she'd been absently producing. "Was I?"

"'We Are the Champions' by Queen, if I'm not mistaken," Barb confirmed with raised eyebrows. "Which coincidentally was playing at the Chill game last night after they beat Montreal."

"The whole team played well," Lauren said. "Montreal has a dangerous top line, and the adjusted coverage system effectively neutralized their zone entries while creating counterattack opportunities through controlled breakouts rather than stretching the neutral zone with high-risk passes."

Barb stared at her for a long moment before dissolving into laughter. "Oh my God," she managed between fits of giggles. "You're speaking hockey. Actual hockey analysis. With terminology. I've lost you to the dark side."

Lauren rolled her eyes, though she couldn't deny the accuracy of Barb's observation. She had, indeed, been paying increasingly close attention to the tactical aspects of the game, her initial dismissal of hockey as "men chasing a puck and hitting each other" completely gone.

"I'm dating a hockey player," she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Dating," Barb repeated, seizing on the term with evident delight. "So we're officially using relationship labels now? This is progress."

"It's still evolving, but yes, there are labels involved."

Barb's expression softened from teasing to genuine warmth. "I'm happy for you, Mac. Mountain Man seems like the real deal."

"He is," Lauren admitted, then hesitated. "But sometimes I wonder what I'm getting myself into. Did you see his photo in the sports section this morning?"

"I did," Barb nodded, her tone more serious. "And the sidebar about the 'enforcer's mystery woman.' Someone caught you two outside the arena."

Lauren sighed. "It wasn't even a good picture. Just the back of my head."

"Are you okay with that?" Barb asked, concern evident in her voice. "The public scrutiny, I mean. That's a lot for someone who values privacy as much as you do."

"I don't know," Lauren admitted. "I've spent years building walls after Daniel. Keeping things controlled. Jax is..." she gestured vaguely, searching for words.

"The human equivalent of a wrecking ball to those walls?" Barb supplied with a knowing smile.

"Something like that."

"Is it worth it?" Barb asked, her tone gentle but pointed. "After everything with Daniel, the way he hurt you—is Jax worth taking that risk again?"

The question hung between them, loaded with the weight of shared history. Barb had been there through the worst of Lauren's previous relationship—the manipulation, the subtle control that had escalated to frightening levels before she'd finally broken free.

"Jax is nothing like Daniel," Lauren said finally. "But that's not really the point, is it? The risk is in letting anyone matter that much."

"Yet here you are, humming victory songs and spouting hockey stats." Barb reached across the desk, squeezing Lauren's hand. "For what it's worth, I've seen how he looks at you. And more importantly, I've seen how you are with him—more relaxed, more present. More like the Lauren I knew before Daniel."

Lauren swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. "What if I'm making another mistake?"

"What if you're not?" Barb countered. "Look, relationships are always risky. That's the whole damn point. But from where I'm sitting, Mountain Man is the good kind of risk."

"When did you get so wise about relationships?" Lauren asked, smiling despite the emotion tightening her chest.

"I've watched enough rom-coms to qualify for an honorary degree," Barb replied with a grin. "Now, we should check on Whiskers before his follow-up ultrasound. The pancreatic inflammation should be resolving with the new medication protocol."

Grateful for the professional redirection, Lauren followed her friend toward the treatment area, their conversation shifting to medical matters with practiced ease.

The morning passed in a flurry of appointments and procedures, Lauren's attention fully engaged by her patients' needs. It was only during her lunch break, as she drove to Jax's apartment to check on the cats, that her thoughts returned to their evolving partnership.

Heading to your place now to check on the cats , she texted as she navigated through midday traffic. Need anything while I'm there?

His response came quickly: Just left physio for the ribs. Everything's fine there. Could you check if Tripod's taking the antibiotic in her food? Was struggling with it this morning.

When she arrived at Jax's apartment, Lauren found Tripod sunning herself on the windowsill while Penalty batted enthusiastically at a toy mouse beneath the coffee table. Both cats greeted her with varying degrees of enthusiasm—Penalty winding between her ankles while Tripod acknowledged her presence with a slow blink before returning to her sunbeam.

"At least someone's relaxed around here," Lauren murmured, scratching Penalty behind the ears before moving to check Tripod's food bowl.

Sure enough, the antibiotic tablet Jax had attempted to hide in the tortoiseshell's breakfast sat exposed at the bottom of the dish, the cat having eaten carefully around it.

"Clever girl," Lauren acknowledged, retrieving the pill and reaching for the treat bag she'd brought. She wrapped the medication in a soft treat designed specifically for pill administration, then approached Tripod.

"This is non-negotiable, miss," she informed the cat, who regarded her with imperious golden eyes. To Lauren's satisfaction, Tripod accepted the treat-wrapped pill without resistance. After ensuring both cats had fresh water and appropriate attention, Lauren settled on the couch to eat her own lunch.

Jax's apartment had become familiar territory over the past weeks—his minimalist yet comfortable aesthetic, the hockey memorabilia tastefully displayed rather than dominating the space, the growing collection of cat accessories that betrayed his soft heart beneath the tough exterior. She knew which cabinet held mugs, where he kept spare blankets, which chair had the best reading light.

Her gaze lingered on a framed photo she hadn't noticed before—the team celebrating a win, arms around each other's shoulders, faces flushed with victory. Jax stood slightly apart, his expression more contained than his teammates', but there was an undeniable connection evident in his posture.

On the coffee table lay a copy of The Hockey News with Jax's photo on the cover, next to a feature article titled "Evolution of the Enforcer: How Thompson Represents Hockey's Changing Guard." Lauren picked it up, flipping to the article.

She found herself engrossed in analysis of Jax's defensive statistics, quotes from coaches about his adaptation to the modern game, and—her stomach tightened—a sidebar titled "Off-Ice Mystery: Thompson's New Romance Raises Eyebrows."

The paragraph was brief but pointed: "Sources close to the team note Thompson's improved play coincides with a new relationship. The intensely private defenseman has been spotted with a local veterinarian, Dr. Lauren Mackenzie, who runs the service dog program that partners with the team. Fans have taken to social media with the hashtag #BeastAndTheBeauty, speculating about the unlikely pairing."

Lauren set the magazine down, her appetite suddenly diminished. It was one thing to know intellectually that dating a professional athlete came with public interest. It was another to see her private life dissected in print, complete with a ridiculous fairy tale hashtag.

Her phone chimed with a text from Barb: Emergency C-section on the pregnant Bernese. Could you come back early?

Lauren sighed, duty calling as it inevitably did in emergency veterinary practice. On my way , she replied, carefully relocating Penalty to a sunny spot on the couch.

As she gathered her things to leave, she hesitated, then took a photo of the magazine sidebar with her phone. She texted Jax: Tripod's antibiotic successfully administered via treat method rather than food hiding. Will show you the secret tonight. Heading back to clinic for emergency surgery. Also, apparently we're now a hashtag. #BeastAndTheBeauty? Really? She attached the photo.

His response came as she was locking his apartment door: Thanks for handling that. Good luck with the surgery. Dinner at your place after practice? I'll bring food. And yeah, sorry about the hashtag. Ignore it.

Perfect , she replied. Should be done by 7. And I'll try to ignore it, but fair warning: if anyone calls me "Beauty" to my face, I'm showing them what "Beast" really looks like.

His reply made her smile: That's my girl.

The emergency C-section required all of Lauren's focus, the Bernese's puppies arriving with complications that demanded her complete attention and expertise. Hours passed in surgical intensity, her team working seamlessly to ensure both mother and puppies survived the difficult delivery.

"Six healthy puppies," Barb announced triumphantly as they closed the final incision. "Despite that placental abruption on the fourth one. Nice save, Dr. Mackenzie."

Lauren smiled tiredly behind her surgical mask, the adrenaline of the complicated procedure beginning to fade. "Good teamwork by everyone," she acknowledged. "Let's get them settled in recovery and monitor the mother's vitals hourly overnight."

It was nearly 7:30 by the time Lauren finished her notes and post-operative instructions, fatigue settling into her shoulders after the intense surgical focus. Stepping into her office to gather her things, she was surprised to find a paper bag from her favorite deli sitting on her desk alongside a to-go cup of tea that still steamed gently.

"Your hockey player dropped those off about twenty minutes ago," Kim, the receptionist, informed her with a knowing smile. "Said to tell you he'd wait at your place since you were still in surgery."

"Thanks, Kim," she managed, surprisingly touched by his simple consideration.

"He seems nice," the receptionist added with deliberate casualness. "Very polite. Called me 'ma'am' and everything."

Lauren smiled, recognizing the unsubtle fishing for confirmation about her relationship status. The clinic staff had been respectfully curious since the service dog interview had aired, but no one had directly asked about her connection to the Chill's enforcer.

"He is nice," she acknowledged simply, offering neither denial nor detailed confirmation.

"By the way," Kim added, attempting nonchalance and failing spectacularly, "there were three different calls today asking if you'd consider being interviewed about the 'players and pets' initiative. Something about a feature in the program for the next home game?"

Lauren blinked, surprised. "Did they leave contact information?"

"On your desk," Kim confirmed. "And..." she hesitated, then plunged ahead, "I hope you don't mind, but I checked your social media followers for the clinic. They've tripled since that first interview aired. The new service dog fundraiser post has more engagement than anything we've ever shared."

Lauren processed this unexpected development. The increased visibility for the clinic and the service dog program was undeniably positive, but the reason behind it—her personal relationship—left her with mixed feelings.

"Thanks for letting me know," she said finally. "Have a good night, Kim."

When she arrived home, she found Jax stretched out on her couch, watching hockey. He looked up as she entered, a smile warming his features in a way that still made her heart skip despite its growing familiarity.

"Successful surgery?" he asked, setting aside the remote and rising to greet her.

"Six healthy puppies despite some complications," Lauren confirmed, leaning down to kiss him. "Thank you for the sandwich and tea. I finished them driving home. That was incredibly thoughtful."

"Figured you'd be hungry."

"How are the ribs?" she asked, noting the careful way he had risen from the couch.

"Better with treatment," he assured her, though she didn't miss his slight wince as he rotated his torso. "Medical cleared me for full practice tomorrow."

Lauren raised a skeptical eyebrow, her professional assessment at odds with his casual dismissal. "Let me see," she requested, her tone gentle but firm.

After a moment's hesitation, Jax complied, lifting his henley to reveal an impressive bruise spreading across his left side, the deep purple and blue stark against his skin.

"That's what 'better' looks like?" Lauren asked dryly, professional concern overriding romantic sensibilities as she carefully examined the injury.

"You should have seen it this morning," Jax replied with a small smile that didn't fully mask his discomfort as her fingers gently explored the bruised area. "Medical says it's superficial. Nothing broken, just spectacular coloring."

Lauren shook her head, medical training warring with the recognition that hockey players operated under different standards of physical wellbeing than most rational humans. "Ice/heat rotation," she instructed, pulling his shirt back down. "And I'm guessing you're underselling the pain level to medical just like you're trying to do with me."

Surprise flashed in Jax's eyes—followed by a rueful acknowledgment that she'd read him accurately. "Playoffs," he said simply. "Everyone's playing through something."

"That doesn't make it sensible," Lauren countered, though she tempered her concern with understanding. "But I get it. Just be careful."

"Not in my line of work."

"So what do we do about this media attention?" she asked, changing subjects as they settled on the couch.

Jax nodded, his expression sobering. "PR is monitoring it. Stephanie says ignoring it is the best approach. If we react, it just feeds the story."

"It's just..." Lauren frowned, searching for words. "I'm not used to being public property. I help animals, I run a clinic. I don't have people making up hashtags about my love life."

"Welcome to my world," Jax said with a hint of apology. "It comes with the territory in pro sports. But I can talk to Stephanie about running interference if it bothers you."

"The clinic's social media has tripled in followers," Lauren admitted. "And the service dog program fundraiser is getting more attention. I just don't know how I feel about it coming from... us, rather than the work itself."

"Would it help to know that the team's community relations department says the service dog program is now their most successful initiative? Apparently having a 'humanizing element'—that would be me—has increased donations by 200%."

Lauren looked at him, caught between frustration and amusement. "So you're saying our relationship is good for business?"

"I'm saying maybe some good can come from the attention, even if it feels invasive," Jax replied, his hand finding hers. "But I get it. I've had years to adjust to the fishbowl. It's new for you."

Lauren sighed, leaning against him. "I'm not even sure why it bothers me so much. It's not like I have anything to hide."

"It's the lack of control," Jax said, surprising her with his insight. "You're used to managing your life, your clinic, your schedule. Public attention doesn't respect boundaries."

She looked at him, struck by his understanding. "Yes. Exactly that."

"Stay tonight?" she asked after a moment, fatigue from her surgical marathon making the thought of Jax leaving unexpectedly unappealing.

"Early practice tomorrow," he warned, though his arm curved around her shoulders with obvious willingness. "Six a.m. skate."

"I have seven a.m. rounds," Lauren countered, leaning into his solid warmth. "We're both early risers. And..." she hesitated, then continued with deliberate casualness, "I sleep better when you're here."

The simple admission seemed to catch Jax off guard, his expression softening as he studied her face. "Me too," he acknowledged quietly, the two words carrying significance beyond their brevity.

Jax leaned in, his kiss gentle but insistent, and Lauren sank against him. His hand cradled her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone with a tenderness that still surprised her coming from hands that could deliver such force on the ice.

"Can you do this with your ribs?" she murmured against his lips, professional concern mixing with desire.

"Manageable," he assured her, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. "Just need to be a little creative."

Lauren pulled back slightly, studying his face with the practiced eye of someone who assessed pain levels daily. "On a scale of one to ten?"

A smile tugged at his mouth. "Currently a three. Potentially a zero if you'd stop asking medical questions and kiss me again."

"Impossible man," she chided, but obliged him nonetheless, her lips finding his with renewed purpose.

With deliberate care, she shifted to straddle his lap, keeping her weight on her knees to avoid pressing against his injured side. Jax's hands settled at her hips, steadying her as she positioned herself above him.

"Better perspective for assessment," she explained with clinical directness that was belied by the flush spreading across her cheeks.

"Is that what the medical textbooks call it?" Jax's amusement faded into something darker, more intense as Lauren's hands slid beneath his t-shirt, carefully mapping the contours of his torso. She noted the heat of his skin, the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm, the way his breathing quickened as her fingers traced upward.

"Arms up," she instructed softly. "Slowly."

Jax complied, allowing her to ease the shirt over his head, revealing the tapestry of his body—powerful muscles, scattered scars, and the angry bruising that spread like watercolors across his left ribs. Lauren's breath caught at the sight again, professional assessment momentarily overriding desire.

"It looks worse than it feels," Jax assured her, catching her expression.

Lauren's fingers hovered over the bruising, not quite touching. "I shouldn't have asked you to stay. You need proper rest to—"

"Lauren." His voice cut through her clinical concern, drawing her eyes to his. "I'm exactly where I want to be. With exactly who I want to be with."

The simple declaration disarmed her completely. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his with newfound urgency, her body communicating what words struggled to express—her growing need for him, not just physically, but in all the ways that had begun to redefine her carefully structured life.

Jax responded in kind, his kiss deepening as his hands slid beneath her oversized ASPCA t-shirt, warm palms mapping the curve of her waist, the arch of her spine. She took off her shirt to save him the movement.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his gaze traveling over her with an appreciation that made her feel both seen and desired, the combination heady and affirming.

Lauren reached behind to unclasp her bra, letting it fall away. Despite having been intimate before, she still felt a flutter of vulnerability as his eyes darkened, his hands moving to cup her breasts with reverent care.

"Tell me if anything hurts," she whispered, leaning forward to press her lips to his jaw, his neck, the sensitive spot behind his ear that she'd discovered made his breath catch. "Promise me."

"Promise," he agreed, his voice rough as his hands continued their exploration, thumbs brushing across her nipples in a way that sent sparks cascading through her.

Lauren traced the familiar terrain of his shoulders, careful to avoid the bruised area as she shifted her attention lower. The defined muscles of his abdomen contracted beneath her touch, his sharp intake of breath encouraging her further.

When her fingers found the waistband of his sweatpants, Jax lifted his hips slightly to assist, allowing her to slide the fabric down and off. Lauren followed, moving from the couch to kneel between his legs, her eyes holding his as she helped him remove the last barrier between them.

His arousal was evident, and Lauren took a moment to appreciate him fully—the powerful thighs, the defined lines of his hips, the hard length of him that pulsed under her gaze. With deliberate slowness, she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh, then higher, her intention clear.

Jax's hand tangled in her hair as she took him in her mouth, a groan escaping him that sent satisfaction coursing through her. There was power in this—in bringing this strong man pleasure, in knowing exactly how to touch him, taste him, to make his breathing fracture and his control waver.

"Lauren," he gasped after several minutes of her attentions, his voice strained. "Need to feel you. All of you."

She released him with reluctance, taking off the rest of her clothing. When she was fully naked, she padded off to the bedroom.

"Where are you going?" he said in a strangled voice.

"Don't move. Be right back." She came back with a condom.

He watched her with hooded eyes and she rolled it down his thickness.

Jax guided her back to straddle him, keeping his injured side protected while giving her control of their positioning.

"Like this?" she asked, settling above him, her body poised to take him in.

"Perfect," he confirmed, his hands at her hips, supporting but not directing.

Lauren reached between them, guiding him to her entrance before slowly sinking down, taking him inch by inch until they were fully joined. The sensation was exquisite—the fullness, the stretch, the completeness of their connection.

"Okay?" she gasped out, checking his expression for any sign of discomfort as she began to move, establishing a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"Better than okay," Jax assured her, his voice husky with desire. One hand remained at her hip, the other moving between them to where they were joined, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her throw back her head in ecstasy.

Lauren lost herself in the dual sensations, her movements growing more urgent as pleasure built within her. Jax watched her with undisguised wonder, his gaze traveling from where their bodies joined to her flushed face, as though memorizing every detail of her pleasure.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his voice tight with restraint. "The way you feel, the way you move..."

His words, combined with the increasing pressure of his touch, pushed Lauren closer to the edge. She leaned forward, careful of his ribs, capturing his mouth in a kiss that conveyed her mounting need.

"Let go," Jax encouraged in between druggingly sweet kisses. "I've got you."

The simplicity of his promise undid her completely. Lauren shattered around him, waves of pleasure coursing through her as she called his name, her body clenching around his in rhythmic pulses.

Before she'd fully recovered, Jax shifted slightly beneath her, the subtle movement changing the angle of their connection and sending aftershocks of pleasure through her over sensitized body. His pace increased, his control visibly slipping as he approached his own release.

Lauren leaned forward, her lips at his ear. "Come for me," she whispered. "I've got you too."

With a deep groan, Jax tensed beneath her as pleasure claimed him. Afterward, they remained joined, Lauren's forehead resting against his as their breathing gradually steadied. The tenderness of the moment—the quiet intimacy that followed passion—felt almost more significant than the physical act itself.

"Your ribs?" she asked eventually, professional concern returning as she carefully disentangled herself.

"Worth it," Jax replied with a satisfied smile, drawing her against his uninjured side as they settled back on the couch.

Lauren nestled against him, her head finding the perfect spot on his shoulder, her hand resting over his heart where she could feel its steady rhythm beneath her palm. His breathing soon evened out and he was asleep.

"I'm falling in love with you," she whispered, testing the words in the safety of his unconsciousness, feeling their truth settle into her bones.

Beside her, Jax's arm tightened almost imperceptibly, though his breathing remained deep and even. Lauren smiled to herself, content to let the confession hang in the air between them—unacknowledged but present, like the first ray of dawn before the sunrise.

As she drifted toward sleep herself, she thought fleetingly of the magazine article, the hashtag, the public attention now fixed on their relationship. For the first time, she wondered if perhaps it was worth it—worth stepping into his world, with all its scrutiny and exposure, if it meant having moments like this.

#BeastAndTheBeauty . The phrase floated through her mind as sleep claimed her. Maybe there were worse things to be called, after all.