Romancing the Grump (Appies, #4)

by Jenny Proctor

When the driver of the SUV emerges, my grip on my bag tightens, and my heart skips a few beats before resuming a rapid thump-thump in my chest. I’ve only met exactly four people who work for the Appies organization. Felix Jamison, the team goalie, is my best friend Gracie’s boyfriend, so he’s the one I know best. Then there’s Parker. She’s the social media manager and is good friends with Gracie. We’ve met a few times, and she was the one who connected me with Grant, the lead attorney who hired me, making him person number three. Which brings me to the fourth and final Appie I know—the one who just climbed out of his car and made my stomach flip over. Nathan Sanders. Just the thought of his name makes me flush with embarrassment. Lucy is the romantic twin—the one prone to heavy sighs and swoons. I mean, I’m as into dating as she is, and I’m down to watch a romantic comedy when the mood strikes, but you will never see me abandon logic and reason for a man. I will not be the one with heart eyes, falling in love at first sight. I need six months of steady dating before I’ll even think of saying I love you, and you’d better believe I’m asking questions about personality, financial security, and temperament. I won’t not listen to my heart. It definitely gets a seat in the boardroom. But my head is chief executive, and it makes every decision with careful precision. Which is why it was so irritating when, the first time I saw Nathan signing autographs with a few of his teammates...

faking a confidence I don’t feel, and smile as Nathan makes eye contact. Okay. He is definitely not smiling back. He might even be frowning. Like, wrinkled forehead, stern, heavy eyebrows, lips turned completely down. His expression doesn’t look sad, though. It’s more…menacing. I consider the ramifications of turning on my heel and going the opposite direction. I could just go back to my car, climb in, and drive away like this entire morning didn’t happen. Maybe my first day of work can be tomorrow. I’m sure I can come up with a good excuse. Something like: the water at my new apartment hasn’t been turned on yet, and I have too much respect for the Appies to come to work without a shower. Or maybe: my neighbor’s dog got lost, and since I’m new to the neighborhood, traipsing through the woods to look for poor little Rufus felt like a great way to make new friends. Better yet: my period started, and I need at least twenty-four more hours of hard exercise and Reese’s peanut butter cups (don’t question my methodology—I swear it’s sound) before I have the mental fortitude to deal with very big, very brutish, very frowny hockey players. But no. Summer Callahan is not a quitter. And Nathan Sanders does not get to put me in a bad mood on what’s supposed to be a very good first day. I square my shoulders and fall into step next to Nathan,

“Nathan, right? I think we met last fall?” His eyes dart my way just long enough for me to know he heard me, but otherwise, he doesn’t respond. “I’m Gracie’s friend?” I say, trying again. “Gracie, Felix’s girlfriend?” Still no acknowledgment. Is this guy actually for real? “As in…your teammate, Felix? The goalie?” Finally, Nathan stops and turns to face me, forcing me to stop or run smack into him. I plant my feet, willing my ankles not to wobble in the heels that really do not like the uneven gravel-strewn surface of the Summit parking lot, and breathe in a deep breath of Nathan-scented air. If I’m trying to keep my cool, that was a very bad move, because Nathan smells heavenly. Like clean laundry and fresh cedar. My eyes track upward, skimming over Nathan’s dark joggers and the light gray thermal that’s stretched across his chest, clinging to the dips and curves of his muscles like it was painted onto him. His long, light brown hair is knotted at the back of his head, and freckles dot the fair skin on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His face is locked into the same frown he was wearing when we first made eye contact. Still, there’s some sense of recognition in his blue eyes, so at a minimum, I know he remembers meeting me. He and Felix are friends. Good friends. He had to have heard I was moving to Harvest Hollow and joining the Appies’ legal team. But then, maybe he doesn’t know. Could that be why he’s frowning? He’s just confused about what I’m doing here? Oh, n...

You stole my parking space. I’m face-to-face with a beautiful woman—one I’ve thought about more than once since I first met her a few months ago—and that’s the first thing that comes out of my mouth. You. stole. my. parking. space.

“Did you know Summer was working for the Appies?” Felix frowns, probably because I barked my words more than said them, sounding accusatory. I clear my throat to try again. “Sorry. Just wondering if you know anything.” “Well, yeah,” he answers like it’s a given. “Gracie and Summer have been talking about it since before Christmas. Remember on Sunday when I asked if you could help out with something?” “My sister was in town with her kids.” Felix waves his hand dismissively. “Not the point. We had enough help. But that’s what we were doing. We were helping Summer move in.” My stomach tightens. “She’s living here?” But that’s a stupid thing to ask because of course she’s living here. She’s working here. Felix props his hands on his hips, his massive form looming over me in a way that might be intimidating if it were anyone but him. At six foot five, he’s the only guy on the team who’s taller than I am, but I know him too well to find him menacing in any situation—even on the ice. He’s the goalie, so he’s not usually in a position to pick fights, but even if he wasn’t, Felix is the kind of player who relies on his brain more than his muscle. “In one of those condos that just went up next to the river,” Felix says. “That’s close to your place, isn’t it?” “Yeah. A mile or so down the road.” I lift a hand and run it across the back of my neck, which suddenly feels itchy and hot. Summer Callahan lives a mile away from me. The first time we met a few months ago, Summer was pretty f...

there a reason why you’re so curious about Summer?” Felix asks. “Had I thought it mattered, I would have mentioned it. But…you only met her the one time, right?” “No, yeah. And it’s fine. There’s no reason you would have told me. I just…saw her this morning on my way in. She caught me by surprise.” And likely thinks I’m the biggest jerk on the team. No big deal. Felix nods, but I get the sense he doesn’t fully believe me. “Malik will probably introduce her at the team meeting,” he says. “You ready to walk up?” I barely stifle my groan. The meeting is no surprise—we always have team meetings on Monday mornings—but I’d rather not see Summer again so soon after I acted like a complete idiot. Should I apologize? Try to explain? Ignore her and act like it never happened? I follow Felix toward the door, wishing we were headed to the ice instead of upstairs to the conference room. I don’t mind the meetings—though I liked them more when all we did was watch game tape and call it good. But here lately, we’ve been spending as much time on social media as anything else. Our social media manager, Parker, has basically turned us into internet stars. I don’t understand how or why what she shares works, but I know better than to question. Thanks to her, we’re getting a lot more attention than your typical minor league team. Attention means endorsements and deals and licensing agreements, not to mention sold-out games, whether we’re home or away. My contract renewed this year, and when th...

hold the elevator!” Van and Alec round the corner at the end of the hall and start jogging toward us. Felix holds the doors, waiting for our teammates to catch up, while I pull the elastic out of my hair and smooth it back, tying it into a knot at the back of my head. It’s too long—longer than it has been in months—and I make a mental note to text my barber and schedule an appointment. My beard could also use a trim, and—why am I suddenly so concerned about my appearance? The minute the elevator doors open, I know exactly why I’m concerned. The reason is standing at the end of the hallway outside the conference room, looking just as good as she did this morning. Beside me, Van whistles low. “Whoa. Who’s the⁠—” “She’s the Appies’ new attorney and my girlfriend’s best friend,” Felix says, cutting him off, “and you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.” “When have I ever not treated women with respect?” Van stands a little taller. “She came to a game once, didn’t she? I wonder if she remembers me.” I clench my jaw. Felix just told me Summer is single. It will take Van less than five minutes to ferret out the same information, which means soon, the whole team will know. I’m no...

It looks like most of the team is already seated, so I move to the second row to sit down. But someone taps me on the shoulder before I can. I spin around to see Summer standing directly in front of me. “Sorry,” she says. “I just wanted to let you know I’m sitting here.” She points at a chair in the front row. A gray folder with the Appies’ blue and black logo stamped on the cover is resting on top of the seat. “Since there aren’t signs or anything, I didn’t want you to inadvertently steal my seat.” Her blue eyes blaze, and her lips lift into a smirk that sends a bolt of heat coursing through me. There’s something about her confidence, about the way she doesn’t cower. I probably shouldn’t be proud of the fact, but most people do cower. My dad taught me when I was young how to throw my weight around on the ice. I’m not the guy starting fights just to piss people off, but if someone plays dirty, I’ll remind them how much they don’t want to mess with me. Off the ice, people tend to treat me the same way, like they’re afraid I’m one wrong word away from punching someone. I’ve never gotten in a fight off the ice, but I don’t mind the reputation. It keeps people at a distance, which is generally where I want them. Summer meets my frown with a confident smile. “I deserved that,” I say. “Glad we’re on the same page,” she says. Malik stands up while Summer moves back to her seat, and I drop into a chair in between Felix and Alec. “Who are we missing?” Malik asks. “Where’s Logan?” “...

first, let’s say hello to Summer Callahan, who has joined the Appies’ staff as in-house legal counsel.” Summer turns in her chair and waves at the room at large. When her gaze skates over me, she gives me that same challenging look. It’s not quite like she has it in for me, but it does seem like she has my number, and I can’t figure out how to feel about that. “Summer knows a bit about contract law,” Malik continues, “which will be useful for obvious reasons. She also spent a few years working in the district attorney’s office, but let’s not make that experience useful, hmm? I’d rather not see any of your sorry faces in a criminal courtroom even if I do trust that the newest member of your team could take care of you.” “Yeah, I bet she could take care of me,” Dominik, one of the newest players on the team mutters behind me, and the guys around him start to chuckle. Summer’s lips press into a tight line, and her entire body stiffens. Dominik’s words weren’t loud, but clearly, they were loud enough. Undeterred by Summer’s obvious displeasure, Dominik smiles, his eyebrows dancing as he kisses the air in her direction. The gesture is suggestive and cocky, and it immediately sets my blood boiling. Without thinking, I stand up and turn around, catching the attention of the second-line left-winger. As arrogant as he is, you’d think he was starting for the Bruins, not riding the pine in the minor leagues. He’s young yet—only nineteen—and Coach has told us we need to teach him how ...

“Nathan. I need you for two minutes at the end of practice today for a broody photo of you inside the penalty box.” “Aww, you’re capturing him in his natural habitat,” Alec says, elbowing me, and I elbow him right back. “I’m serious though, Nathan,” Parker teases. “No smiling this time. Don’t make me ask you twice.” At the beginning of the season, Parker started a trend talking about all the different places I can look brooding, hence her request for the penalty box photo. I didn’t know what she meant the first time she explained it to me, but basically, I just sit wherever she tells me, look off into the distance, and frown. She’s taken videos of me on the ice, sitting in the stands, leaning against my car, holding a puppy Eli’s wife, Bailey, brought over from the animal shelter. Over Christmas, when a group of us all headed into the mountains to hike Mt. Pisgah, she even made me stop so she could record a few seconds of me gazing into the trees, the smoky blues and greens of the Blue Ridge Mountains extending into the distance behind me. It’s stupid, and I don’t know why people care or want pictures of me frowning at stuff, but if it means no dancing in videos—I’m fine with it. I nod, my eyes darting over to Summer to see if she’s watching this whole exchange. She’s watching all right, and the realization sends a low buzz of energy shooting across my skin. “Fair warning, Nathan,” Parker adds. “I’m also noticing some trending patterns around the hashtag #TameTheBroodingBe...

Parker moves on to a series of videos she’s doing with the rookies, something involving a dance, and…did she just say they would be dressed up like fruit? I chuckle and shake my head. Malik and Coach Davis have pretty much given Parker free rein to do whatever she needs to keep the team’s presence growing, and we’ve been instructed to do the same. If she wants us to learn a dance and perform it on the ice? We’d better say yes. If she wants us to do it while wearing pink tights and fluffy tutus? We will hate it. We will also say yes. Parker has hinted a few times that I could create my own social media accounts and take advantage of the momentum, but it’s not a requirement, and I can’t think of anything I would rather do less. Besides wear a tutu.

“Alec and Nathan. There’s a new athleisure clothing company called Flex that’s looking for an endorsement. They’ve requested the two of you specifically. The company checks out, so if you’re interested, Summer will be traveling to Chicago with the team at the end of this month. The three of you will stay in the city an extra night after your game on Thursday, and she’ll accompany you to the meeting on Friday morning, then you’ll fly out that afternoon and catch up with the team in Cleveland in time for Saturday’s afternoon game.” I force myself to nod in agreement like this isn’t a big deal. Technically, it’s not. Stuff like this happens all the time, and there’s always a team representative with us, especially for those of us who don’t have agents. But this feels like a big deal anyway. An hour ago, I wasn’t even sure I would see Summer again. Now she’s here, living a mile down the road, working at the Summit, negotiating on my behalf in brand meetings. “Is that a problem for either of you?” Malik asks. “If not, we’ll get your travel plans sorted and emailed over.” “Sounds good,” I say as Alec mumbles something similar. I keep my eyes on Malik, but I sense Summer looking at me,...

I push through the large double doors that lead into the middle level of the arena’s stadium seating and look around for Parker. Below, the sound of skates cutting across the ice is punctuated with shouts, grunts, and then a sharp whistle from Coach Davis. A week into my new job, I have yet to wander into the hockey rink part of the Summit. I’ve been told numerous times I’m welcome to drop in whenever the guys are practicing if I’d like to watch, but this is the first time I’ve actually done it. And I’m only here because Parker invited me to meet her for lunch. I don’t know the first thing about how hockey is played, so I probably should watch. And I’ve been more than a little curious to see the guys in action. But it’s not like I haven’t been busy. I decided, with Grant’s approval, that the very best way to prepare myself to negotiate new contracts was to read over every single branding or endorsement deal any of the Appies have signed in the past twelve months. It took three days, practically made my eyes bleed, and led to several moments of panic in which I doubted whether I could even do this job. It’s honestly nothing like the work I did with the DA, and I half-wonder why Grant hired me. Though, in my desperation to leave the dumpster fire that was my last job, it’s possible I oversold the summer internship I did studying entertainment law. It’s also possible I noticed the Agent Twelve movie poster hanging behind his desk and casually mentioned that my sister is marri...

“How do you keep up? I can’t even find the puck.” Parker pops open a bag of Doritos and offers me one. “The trick is to stop looking for it. Just watch the players. You’ll start to recognize their subtle shifts in posture, their speed, the way they guard the puck when they have it. If they don’t have it, they know where it is, so if you watch them, you’ll get better at figuring out where the play is happening.” “They’re so fast,” I say before licking Dorito dust off my fingertips. “How do I watch them all?” “You’ll never see everything,” Parker says. “But I promise it will get easier.” She points. “Okay, see the guy over on the right? That’s Logan. Watch him for a second.” I watch as Logan glides across the ice with ease. He has the puck—I can see it, at least for now—but then he passes it to another player, and I lose it. I keep my eyes on Logan, watching where he watches, and soon, I spot the puck again, in front of a smaller guy who flies across the ice, pulling away from the rest of the players. He’s almost to Felix when another player cuts him off, bending low and checking him with his shoulder before spinning and ramming him into the wall, pinning him in place with his hockey stick. I wince as they make contact, bracing myself for whatever happens next. The two men scuffle a bit, then Logan skates over and pulls the bigger man off. “What was that?” I ask, realizing almost too late that I’ve practically pulverized my sandwich, squeezing it in my hands. “Um, that was N...

“Had you met Nathan before you started working here?” Parker asks. “It seems like there might be some history there.” “No history,” I say. “I have met him, but only once. We talked for maybe twenty minutes? That was it.” Parker’s eyes go wide. “Really? Twenty minutes?” “Mostly I talked for twenty minutes.” She chuckles. “That sounds more like the Nathan I know. He’s a great guy. Much more of a gentle giant than hockey fans like to think. He’s tough on the ice, an enforcer, but I’ve never seen him throw a punch off the ice.” “An enforcer. Is that a position?” “Sort of?” Parker says. “It’s not an official thing. But when the opposing team plays dirty, he’s usually the guy who steps in and…handles it. The guys on the team call him Bruiser.” “So basically, he fights a lot?” “That’s just it,” Parker says. “Only if he has to. He doesn’t instigate, he responds. And he’s more level-headed than a lot of guys who fill the same role.” My eyes follow Nathan—now that Parker pointed him out, it’s easier to recognize him under the bulky pads and helmet—as he breaks away from another player and races across the ice. Parker grabs her phone, starting a video just as he deflects around another player, circles the goal, then sends the puck over Felix’s shoulder and into the net. “Dang,” Parker says under her breath. I lean forward, shifting to the edge of my seat. Down on the ice, the player I’m ninety-nine percent sure is Nathan slows the tiniest bit and…looks at me. But that’s dumb. Why wou...

“Um, did he just look up here?” I glance at Parker who looks like she’s fighting an enormous grin. “He totally just looked up here. Also significant: Nathan is a defender. That kind of hotshot scoring move isn’t exactly his M.O.” “Which means what?” She gives me a...

I like the idea of Nathan trying to impress me way too much, which gives me a terrible sense of whiplash. Why would the same guy who was borderline rude and dismissive in the parking lot at the start of the week be trying to impress me at the end of the week? I’ve seen Nathan exactly three times since the team meeting on Monday morning. Once when I dropped by Gracie’s place to return a sweater I borrowed, and he happened to be leaving Felix’s place, which is right next door. Once when we arrived at the Summit at the same time, and yes, I did park in his parking space, and no, he did not complain. And once when we were leaving the Summit. All three times were completely coincidental and random, and all three times, he barely acknowledged my presence. I take a long swig of my water, hoping it will do something to tamp down the pleasant warmth spreading through my belly from Parker’s words. My belly has no business feeling warm or fluttery or anything when it comes to that man. I don’t care what I said before about warm fuzzy feelings of recognition, and I don’t care how good Nathan smelled every single stupid time I ran into him. He’s either interested or he’s not, and he’s clearly not. That’s not rocket science. “He has no reason to want to impress me,” I say to Parker, satisfied that my words sound balanced and logical and utterly convincing. “I basically asked him out the last time we met, and he didn’t take the bait. He made it clear he’s not interested.” Parker purses h...

“How long have you known Logan?” I ask as we continue down the hallway. “Known him? Practically forever. He was my brother’s best friend when we were growing up.” Parker smiles, and I can practically see heart-eye emojis forming over her head. “But the relationship part is still relatively new.” I think back over the player roster I was studying just before lunch. “He came to the Appies from the NHL, right?” She nods. “He played for the Hurricanes, then came here after recovering from an injury. But his contract with the NHL means he’ll likely go back, no matter how much I’d like him to stay here forever.” “Is that how it is for most of the players? They could get called up to the NHL?” “Less so for the Appies than for most minor league teams,” Parker says. “Most teams function as a sort of developmental team for their NHL affiliate, but the Appies have turned into their own sort of thing.” “Thanks to your efforts, I hear. I’ve never been a crazy big hockey fan, but I still watched your TikToks even before getting this job. You’ve done some really great stuff.” She smiles. “Thanks. We have a lot of fun. Many of the guys play here without any intention of ever leaving. Felix, for example. He could have played in the NHL but didn’t want to. He’s only contracted with the Appies, so he’s never in danger of getting sent somewhere else. I’m sure that makes Gracie happy.” “I’ve never seen Gracie so happy,” I say. “They’re honestly kind of ridiculous. Which is crazy because a year...

“Will you be traveling with the team when we go to Chicago next weekend?” I ask. I hope her answer is yes because even though Grant assured me it’s a nice bus with plenty of room for everyone to be comfortable, I’d still rather have Parker along if only to have someone to talk to. She shakes her head no. “Not at first. I have a family thing on Wednesday night, so I’m flying out on Thursday morning. But I’ll be in Chicago in time for the game that night.” I nod, mentally shifting my expectations to include the possibility of eight hours on a bus as the only woman. I can’t decide if I should be nervous or excited. “Don’t stress about it,” Parker says, clearly reading my expression. “Bus rides are easy and usually pretty chill.” I nod my thanks and head back to my office. The next task on my to-do list is a deep dive into Flex’s company history to make sure there’s no reason Nathan and Alec shouldn’t partner with them. Malik said the company checks out, and on the surface, they do. But I’d like to see what’s under the surface before I let anyone sign anything. Three hours later, Flex has sent over an initial draft of the agreement, so I spend the rest of the afternoon redlining, ma...

“Hey.” I startle when a deep voice sounds just in front of my desk, and I toss my pen in the air, letting out an audible yelp. Nathan stands in front of me, freshly showered and smelling divine. His hair is still damp, and tiny droplets of water dot the shoulders of his t-shirt. I have no idea how he managed to sneak into my office without me hearing him, or even smelling him, but the how of his appearance feels completely inconsequential next to the what standing in front of me. I open my mouth to speak, but sound completely escapes me, leaving me gaping like a very uncomfortable fish. I clear my throat. “Hi,” I finally manage to say. “You scared me.” “Sorry. I got a message you had something for me to sign?” I blink at him, willing my memory to recall whatever it is he’s talking about. Did I send Nathan a message? Pretty sure I would remember having an actual reason to invite him to my office. I also would have put on some lip gloss before he arrived. “Um, I don’t have⁠—” “Summer?” Grant calls through the open door directly connecting our adjacent offices. By the end of my second day, I quickly learned that Grant’s favorite way to communicate with me is to just…yell across the...

weeks since he last messaged—since before I quit—so this is unexpected. JACKHOLE DA Summer, was wondering if you could call and give me some feedback on the Helms case. The file notes don’t seem complete. I’m still staring at the message thread when a second message pops up. I thought about you today. All day. The first text makes me furious—after everything, he still thinks he has the right to text me? The second one just makes me feel gross. Bare minimum, the district attorney I worked under for two years should have lost his job for the way he spoke to me. But he was good—crafty. His words were always just veiled enough to seem innocent. The man was completely spineless, and I knew it, so I never felt threatened, but it was still more than I should have had to deal with. Finally, I snapped. I made the phone call. Filed the complaint. Made all the reports I needed to make. Then I accepted the job to work with the Appies and waited for Jason P. Roscoe to get his comeuppance. What he got was a slap on the hand. A stern talking to from the state attorney general. Turns out, being a first-class jerk isn’t grounds enough for dismissal. How nice....

Felix’s place is big but not quite big enough for the entire team, so we have to be particular about who finds out just how much our goalie loves to cook. Tonight, it’s me, Van, Alec, Logan, Camden, and Wyatt, which is making for a pretty serious crowd. We need Eli here to crack some jokes, but now that he’s married, we’re seeing him less and less when we’re off the ice. Not that I blame him. The guy always wanted to be in love more than the rest of us do. At least more than I do, and I probably shouldn’t speak for the rest of the guys. Except for Van. If my lack of a dating life indicates I don’t want to settle down, his abundance of one says the same thing. We just deal with our aversion to relationships in different ways.

“Can we have seconds?” Wyatt asks from across the table. “Not yet,” Gracie says as she ladles out another bowl and sets it on the counter. “Summer is on her way over, and I promised her soup.” I jerk at the sound of Summer’s name and knock over my water glass, sending it sloshing across the table. “Dude, what’s up with you?” Alec says as he picks up his bowl and scoots back. He’s sitting closest to me and would have gotten a lap full of water had he not moved when he did. “Sorry,” I mumble as I take the dish towel Felix offers me. He eyes me knowingly, but he’s too good a friend to say anything out loud. Which is just as well because whatever he thinks he knows, he doesn’t. Although, based on how I acted at practice today, I understand why Felix might assume. I’m not saying Dominik hasn’t been an idiot—he’s not playing like an Appie or behaving like one when he’s off the ice. But once I saw Summer up in the stands, something came over me, and I stopped thinking about anything but wanting to impress her. I laid into him too hard, then acted like some kind of hotshot center, leaving my zone and scoring just to show her that I could. It had to be a momentary lapse in judgment. Summer does talk too much, and I’m not interested in her. In fact, I’m so not interested that as soon as I finish this ridiculously good soup, I should probably take off and head home. Once the mess is cleaned up, I pursue my food with renewed determination, scarfing down the last few spoonfuls with rec...

my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, frowning at a couple of new texts from my little brother. Blake Just met with the attorney. He’s saying I should plead guilty? I don’t know what’s happening. I didn’t do anything, Nate. I swear. Why should I plead guilty if I didn’t even go inside the house? I sink back in my chair, hating that I’m so far away from my family. I don’t fully understand the trouble my sixteen-year-old brother has gotten himself into, but I know he’s a solid kid. He’s playing hockey at a prep school in Boston, on scholarship—we are definitely not a prep school kind of family—and I thought he was doing pretty well. But then a few weeks ago, Mom called and was completely beside herself, saying Blake had been arrested and she had no idea what she was supposed to do. I’ve tried my best to piece together the details, but unfortunately, Blake’s version of what happened is woefully lacking, and Mom’s version sounds a little too much like a bad movie plot for me to think she’s getting everything right. I’m guessing the truth is somewhere in the middle. So far, I haven’t been able to find it. Because I’m not there. I can’t be there, and the public defender who has...

before I can thank Felix and Gracie for dinner and say goodbye, a knock sounds on the door, and Gracie hops up to answer it. I swear under my breath. Blake’s texts distracted me, and now it’s too late for me to escape. “I assume you’ve all had the chance to meet Summer?” Gracie says as she shuttles her toward the kitchen table. Summer scans the room. She looks at Gracie and lifts her eyebrows. “So, when you said you made enough soup for an army, you really meant for an entire hockey team?” “Not the whole team,” Gracie says. “And I promise I saved you some. Do you know everyone? Do you need names?” Summer props her hands on her hips. “Actually, I’ve been studying the player roster, so let me see if I can do this by myself.” She makes a show of pointing at each guy, listing off his jersey number and position. Finally, she turns to me. “And you’re Nathan Sanders,” she says. “Number…?” She wrinkles her forehead like she’s thinking and purses her lips to the side before she says, “Twenty-three?” I nod my head in acknowledgment, hating that my number was the only one she struggled to remember. Hating even more that I noticed. Summer raises her fists in a tiny cheer. “And you’re a left defenseman.” I nod again, and Summer turns, seating herself in the chair I vacated moments before. She’s wearing jeans now, more casual than anything I’ve seen her wearing at work, and a flannel shirt that makes her eyes look stupidly blue. She has on a tank top underneath, and every time she moves...

“All you need is a little hands-on demonstration.” Summer chuckles. “Is that so? Well, teach me then.” He holds up his own glass. “Okay. So this guy is the center, which puts him here.” He drops the glass in the middle of the table. “He’s usually the guy with the puck.” “Yeah, I am,” Van says, cocky like always. Alec pushes two more cups into position. “Over here, we have Eli, who isn’t here because he’s married now and can’t be bothered to show up, but he plays right wing. And over here, there’s Logan, who is left wing. The wings can do pretty much anything, offense or defense, depending on what the game needs.” I should leave. I’m not a part of the conversation, and I want to try to call Blake. But now I’m curious to know what Alec will say about me. And I’m more curious to know how Summer will respond. “Back here is where you have your defensemen,” Alec continues. “That’s where you’ll find Nathan and me. Our primary job is to cover Felix—the goalie—and keep the puck away from the net.” Summer’s eyes lift to mine for the briefest moment, then she looks back at the six-man team Alec organized. “Honestly, when I was watching practice today, it mostly seemed like a free-for-all. Everyone was skating everywhere.” “It only looks like that because the game moves so fast,” I say, drawing the attention of everyone at the table. I don’t know why I’m jumping in, and my teammates seem surprised that I’ve opened my mouth at all, but I keep talking anyway. “There’s always a little ro...

guess who texted me after work today?” Summer asks, her attention fully on Gracie now. My ears perk up, and my movements slow even further. These spoons seem particularly dirty; probably they need to be scrubbed by hand three, maybe even four times. “Oh, no. Please tell me he didn’t,” Gracie says. “He totally did. But it’s fine. I deleted and blocked his number. I mean, one text was just about work, but the second message was…less about work.” There’s a strain in Summer’s voice that I don’t like, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it from here. Nothing, that’s what. Because she isn’t talking to me. She’s clearly speaking quietly on purpose. With the water running, she probably thinks I can’t hear, which is all the more reason for me to stop listening. “I just can’t believe that after everything, he still thinks he has any right to text me,” she says. “He’s gross, Summer,” Gracie says. “And he’s the freaking district attorney. Isn’t he supposed to be an upstanding citizen or whatever?” “Elected by his peers,” Summer says with annoyance. “I’m just glad I don’t work there anymore.” “Me too,” Gracie says. “Especially because it means you’re here.” That’s right. Summer worked for the DA. A DA who clearly mistreated her. I drop a bowl, and it clatters into the bottom of the sink, splashing water all over the front of my sweatshirt. Both of the women look up, but it’s Felix who moves in beside me. “You all right, man?” he asks under his breath. “I think that’s the cle...

Summer Callahan does not find me the least bit intimidating. Instead, she seems to find joy in sparring with me, even provoking me. I like it way too much. Pretty sure that means I’m in serious trouble.

“So, is this hockey player worth your time? Be objective for a minute. Even though he grumbled about his parking space, do you think he’s a nice guy?” I sink back into my seat, thinking of the way Nathan stood up for me when Dominik ran his mouth. “The jury’s still out on that one. But my instincts are telling me he probably is.” “Tell me what he looks like,” she prompts. I bite my lip, immediately conjuring the image of Nathan looming over my desk, shower-damp and smelling delicious. Nathan gliding across the ice, somehow looking powerful and graceful all at the same time. Nathan washing dishes in Felix’s kitchen. “You should see him, Lu. He’s…I don’t know. Massive, for one. All the guys are. So much muscle and broad shoulders, but he’s so tall, too. And I know I’ve never liked guys with long hair, but on him, it just works, and…oh man.” I sigh. “I really do have a crush, don’t I?” “Sounds like it. Which could be fun, you know? Maybe just let it be and see what happens?” “Maybe. But it could be risky, right? I just started this job.” “Whatever. People date coworkers all the time. It always matters in books more than it matters in real life,” Lucy says. “Just be a little more careful than usual, but I wouldn’t sweat it. You won’t let it mess up your job.” Assuming there’s even an it to consider. Which there probably isn’t, so it doesn’t matter.

I climb onto the bus and pause, my eyes scanning over the few remaining empty seats. The bus is configured a little differently than typical. At the very back, there’s a table with bench seats on either side, where it looks like the general manager, Malik, Coach Davis, and a few assistant coaches have already settled in. The middle section is where most of the players are sitting and then, toward the front, are the team trainers and a few other staff members I haven’t met yet. Nathan is sitting halfway down the bus in a row by himself, staring out the window with the same frowning expression he always wears. I feel a sudden impulse to walk straight down the aisle and plop myself into the empty seat next to him just to see the look on his face. I don’t know why I like needling this man—maybe because he’s so hard to needle, and Lucy’s right about me seeing him as a challenge. I’ve never seen anyone so stoic, so completely unflappable. Still, despite my impulse, I’m smart enough to recognize what the ramifications of that kind of forward move might be. To blatantly choose him when there are so many empty seats? I might as well hold up a giant poster with big black letters telling the whole team I have a crush on Nathan Sanders. Plus, he already has headphones on. Nothing about his body language says he’s looking for a seatmate. I’m bold, yes. But I’m not an idiot. Instead, I choose a vacant row close-ish to the front. I don’t think there are enough of us to fill the entire bu...

“Hey, Tucker,” I say, eyebrows raised. “What’s up?” “Actually, I was just reading over the deferred compensation section of the AHL’s collective bargaining agreement, and I was wondering if you could explain the finer points of how that works.” I scratch behind my ear and stare, blinking for several long moments while my brain catches up to the moment. It’s not that I wouldn’t expect any of the guys to ask me legal questions, this one just takes me completely by surprise. I’m familiar with the AHL’s CBA, but I’m not even close to being able to answer questions like this one off-hand. “Tucker, I wish I could tell you I have the whole collective bargaining agreement memorized, but I’m not there yet. Can you give me a couple of days to read over it, and I’ll get back to you?” He smiles, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sure. Thanks, Summer.” Two minutes later, Dumbo takes Tucker’s place and asks me an equally complicated question. This one doesn’t have anything to do with hockey, but it’s still loosely related to the law, so I stumble my way through as best I can. Dumbo doesn’t seem even a little bit interested in what I’m saying, but he smiles and says thank you just like Tucker did. When he gets up and Van sits down seconds later, I start to wonder if I’m being played. “Okay, here’s the situation,” Van says. “There are these fans who have started making hoodies with my face on them. I’m flattered, but they’re starting to sell them.” He leans toward me, eyes sparkli...

we’re done now, right?” I try to make my tone sound menacing, but I’m talking to a bus full of men who make a living ramming into each other, so honestly, how terrifying could they possibly find me? “We have no idea what you’re talking about, Counsel,” Tucker says, a wry grin on his face. “A few guys had a few legal questions. We didn’t think you’d mind.” “I don’t mind real questions,” I say. Van raises his hand. “Mine was totally real.” “And I was happy to answer. No, Van. You do not need to license your face,” I say, and a ripple of laughter moves across the bus. “But if one more person comes up here with a bad lawyer joke or a question that sounds like they just pulled it off a Reddit list of the stupidest questions to ask attorneys, I’m taking names down, and I’m going to make sure Parker knows you’re the ones who should wear the leopard print in the next video she’s planning.” The guys chuckle, and Dumbo shoves Tucker in the seat beside him, saying something that makes the guys closest to him laugh even harder. I’m not sorry I can’t hear him from where I’m standing. I don’t actually know anything about the videos Parker is planning, but based on what I’ve seen so far, leopard print feels well within the realm of possibility. “Are we understood?” I say, propping one hand on my hip, my eyes moving over the team. When my eyes pass over Nathan, his gaze quickly darts away. As I sit back down, I’m not even a little convinced the team will leave me alone, but soon, five min...

“I could have handled Dominik,” I say, though I’m anything but disappointed Nathan is here instead. “I don’t doubt it,” he responds. “But just because...

Am I a strong, independent woman? Absolutely. Does it feel amazing to know this man has made an effort to protect me? To demand better behavior from his teammate? Hell, yes.

“Thank you, Nathan,” I say softly. He waves a dismissive hand. “I figured I owed you after the whole parking space thing.” I smile. “Yeah. I’ve asked around. Apparently, I can park wherever I want.” “True. You can,” Nathan says. “So what was that? Are you a man set in his ways? Oh!” I turn sideways in my seat so I can face him. “Is it a superstition? A lot of athletes have those, right?” He leans his head back and gives it a tiny shake, almost like he’s annoyed by the question. But then he looks over and holds my gaze, his perpetually serious expression giving me a little shiver. “I don’t care about the parking space. I was just…surprised to see you. And that’s what happened to come out of my mouth.” Huh. Interesting. Despite his very grouchy greeting, Nathan Sanders definitely remembered me. And he wasn’t just surprised when he saw me. He was flustered, too. “So, what?” I ask, slightly emboldened by this new revelation. “Are you just going to sit here for the rest of the trip?” He leans his head back and closes his eyes again, his arms resting on his chest like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “If I have to.” “Wow. And by the sound of it, you’ll enjoy yourself too.” He shoots me a wry expression, the corner of his mouth hinting at a smile but never fully giving in. “I don’t mind.” His admission feels like another tiny victory. “What about me? Are you worried about whether I mind?” I don’t. I really, really don’t. He shifts, starting to heft himself out of the seat. “Y...

Beside me, Nathan’s breathing steadies—can ALL men sleep anywhere, in any position?—and I fall into my work, rewriting the terms of the contract for the next hour. It’s surprisingly easy to work sitting next to Nathan. His presence is soothing, reassuring in a way I did not expect. Turns out, it’s actually pretty nice to stop worrying about who might come talk to me next. Though, I have a feeling I’d find Nathan’s presence comforting anywhere. When work starts to bore me, I swap my laptop for my Kindle, but the steady hum of the bus, and maybe the fact that Nathan is still sleeping beside me makes it hard to focus on the novel I’m reading, and I eventually nod off. I wake up what could be minutes or hours later—I honestly have no idea—when my pillow shifts and a warm hand wraps around my arm, nudging me just slightly. “Summer. Hey. Time to wake up.” The deep voice is quiet and close, and in my sleep-addled state, it has the opposite effect. It doesn’t make me want to wake up—it makes me want to snuggle in close and sleep more. I let out a low moan, lifting a hand to wrap it around my pillow…except my pillow is Nathan’s shoulder and my hand is curved around his bicep. And it is one nice bicep. Slowly, I sit up and slide my hand off Nathan’s arm, mostly because I think I might have been drooling. Even if I wasn’t, I was absolutely using Nathan as my personal pillow, groping him like he was some sort of body pillow I wanted to hug closer. I wipe the corner of my mouth, my che...

Summer is already on the bus when I climb back on with my food, Felix and Alec right behind me. This doesn’t surprise me—I saw her in line ahead of me, talking to Malik the entire time—but I’m still disappointed to see her sitting at the small table in the back, looking over a folder of paperwork with Malik, a half-eaten burrito sitting beside her. We used to eat inside, an effort to keep the bus from smelling like whatever it is we’re eating, but with the Appies’ growing fame, hiding out on the bus has become a lot easier. Especially when we’re traveling, and we don’t really feel like dealing with people and attention. Admittedly, that’s pretty much how I feel all the time, but even the guys like Eli—who has the biggest online following and thrives in the spotlight—need a break sometimes. Last I heard, Malik was trying to convince Larry, the Appies’ owner, to approve a new standard of travel for the team, using chartered flights instead of the buses we’ve been using for years. Private charters are how teams get around in the NHL, so it’s not unheard of, and with how much the Appies are making, between sold-out games, a huge uptick in merch, and bigger corporate sponsors, it seems like a logical next step. Not because we deserve the luxury any more than we did before, but because of things like this—because of how hard it’s getting to travel normally. We’re recognized almost everywhere we go.

“Your guard dog shift ended?” Alec asks through an enormous bite of burrito. I motion toward the back of the bus. “She’s occupied.” It’s as much of an explanation as I’m going to give, though it seems to appease him well enough. I realize how I made it look when I planted myself in Summer’s row and wouldn’t let the team continue the joke they’d planned. But I wasn’t about to let Dominik get within ten feet of her. So what if it means the rest of the guys think I’m staking a claim? She’s too good for all of us anyway—me included—so she’s better off if they all keep their distance. “You know what everyone’s saying now, right?” Alec says, confirming my suspicions. “Pretty sure the rookies have bets going on how long it’ll take you to ask her out.” “Let them bet,” I grumble in between bites of food. “It’s none of their business, so they’ll never know one way or the other.” “True,” Felix says. “But we’re your friends, man. If you ever want to talk about anything, you can make it our business.” “What are we talking about?” Eli says as he drops into the seat just in front of Felix. “Nathan’s love life,” Alec says. “Or at least his effort to have one.” “Sweet. Somebody catch me up,” Eli says. “We’re not talking about anything because there’s nothing to talk about. I just don’t want Dominik anywhere near her.” I look over at Alec. “Or you.” Not sure why I feel compelled to suddenly include Alec in my warning, except that he’s staying for the Flex meeting so he’ll be around her as m...

“No morning skate,” Coach Davis calls back. “Just a team meeting at ten in the hotel ballroom.” Alec drops back into his seat. “Sweet. Ten a.m. means there’s plenty of time to go out tonight and still get enough sleep. Who’s in?” “Sorry, man,” Felix says. “I’ve got a phone date with Gracie.” Alec rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Nathan? You in?” I find myself wondering what Summer’s plans are. As much as I was just hoping to spend some time away from her, I know without having to think about it that if she goes out with Alec and the rest of the guys, I’ll go too. “Yeah, maybe,” I say, leaving the door open enough for me to change my mind. “Excellent,” Alec says. “I’m sure Van will want to go.” He looks over his shoulder. “I’ll ask Summer, too.” I practically hold my breath as Malik climbs back onto the bus and passes out our room keys. Alec has moved to the back and is talking to Summer, and I’m doing my best not to seem interested in her response. I keep my eyes glued to my phone until Alec reappears beside me, slapping me on the back with enough force to rock me forward. “Okay, you have to come now because Summer’s coming.” “Because she’s coming? Why does that mean I have to go?” Alec waves away my question like it’s inconsequential. “You, me, Van, Tucker, and Dumbo.” He looks over at Felix. “Hey. You’re from here, right? Do you know the area? Where should we go?” “You want to eat?” Felix asks. Alec glances at his watch. “It’s about time for second dinner, so yeah.” Felix ment...

My phone vibrates in my pocket as soon as I’m in my room, and I pull it out to see a text from my mom. Mom Just talked to Blake. Nathan, I’m so worried about him. Has he told you about the new plea deal they’ve offered him? He keeps saying he’s innocent and doesn’t want to plead guilty, but I’m beginning to wonder if he should. The attorney made this sound like the best possible outcome. I sigh and drop onto the corner of the bed to type out a reply. Nathan What’s the deal? Mom I don’t understand all the details. Something about eighteen months in juvenile detention, then community service. But that would mean no hockey. You know what that would do to Blake. I wish I could help Mom understand the details, but Blake’s attorney is avoiding my calls with expert efficiency. Short of driving up to Boston and camping outside his office—something that would technically be a lot easier for Mom than it would be for me—I’m not sure what else to do. I’ve at least managed to talk to Blake a few more times, and If he’s telling me the truth, he shouldn’t plead guilty to anything. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got caught up with some older guys on the team whom he wanted to impress. But he wasn’t the one committing a crime. He definitely doesn’t deserve eighteen months of juvenile detention, and he can’t stop playing hockey. At sixteen, Blake still has some growing to do on the ice, but he’s already better than I was at his age, and he’s in a great program. If he works ...

I move to close and lock it—but I hesitate as the sound of laughter floats through the doorway. I recognize that laughter. It’s Summer. Which means her hotel room is right beside mine. I look closer, immediately noticing that the door on Summer’s side isn’t fully closed either. It’s mostly closed, so she probably hasn’t noticed, but it isn’t latched. I could walk right into her hotel room. Assuming it is her and not someone who just sounds like her. Either way, this has to be a safety issue. Aren’t these doors supposed to remain closed and locked unless someone specifically requests adjoining rooms? The voice on the other side of the door moves closer, and I strain to listen. It’s definitely Summer, and…did she just say my name? My heart starts pounding as I lean even closer. I shouldn’t be eavesdropping. I should close the door, lock it, and forget she’s on the other side of the wall. But something holds me there—some desperate curiosity to know what she thinks about me. “I have no idea,” Summer says. “I’ve wondered a few times, but he…” And that’s when I lean a little too far…and crash forward right into the middle of Summer’s hotel room, landing on the floor at the foot of her bed in a very ungraceful heap. Summer screams, and the next thing I know, pillows are raining down on me with rapid-fire precision. Something heavy and sharp hits my shoulder—that definitely wasn’t a pillow—then a second blow catches me in the arm. A shoe. She’s throwing shoes at me. How many shoe...

“Nathan?” She finally says. Before I can answer, a voice sounds through the phone. She must have the call on speaker. “Summer? Are you okay? What’s happening?” Summer lowers the hair dryer and drops it onto the bed. “I’m fine,” she says, her voice still holding a tinge of panic. “A left defender just bulldozed through my door, but other than that, everything’s great.” “A left what?” the voice says. I’m guessing it’s a sister because it sounds a lot like Summer herself. “It’s a hockey position,” Summer says, leveling me with a glare that makes me flush with embarrassment. “I still don’t understand,” the woman on the phone says. “A hockey player broke down your door?” I swallow against the growing knot in my throat. “I’m really sorry.” I point next door. “That’s my hotel room, and I realized the connecting doors were open, so I went to close mine, but then I…fell.” My explanation sounds lame, and Summer clearly agrees because her eyes narrow. “You fell?” “Your door was unlocked too. I swear it was an accident.” The woman on the phone giggles. “I bet it was.” “Uh-huh,” Summer says like she doesn’t quite believe me. She tosses her phone onto the bed and walks toward me, stepping over the pillows littering the floor so we’re standing face to face. She’s close enough now that I can feel the warmth of her, catch the faint scent of her hair, which I may or may not have branded into my memory when she fell asleep against me on the bus. “You weren’t leaning on the door?” Summer asks...

I make fast work of closing both doors between our rooms and locking the one on my side. I lean against it, my head resting against the cool metal, and groan. I am the biggest idiot. I should have closed and locked the door the second I realized it was open. Bare minimum, I should have apologized and left a lot faster than I did. She was clearly in the process of changing her clothes, and I just stood there, staring. The image of her, eyes wide and wild, skin flushed, flashes through my mind, and I close my eyes. I can’t be happy this happened, but I also can’t regret having caught a glimpse of her looking so…alive. She didn’t cower in the corner—she threw whatever she could get her hands on. Her impulse wasn’t to flee, it was to fight. I get the sense that’s just how Summer is. I love that about her. Instead of going straight to the lobby, I wait outside Summer’s room, leaning against the wall opposite her door. I’d like to apologize again, but mostly I just want to make sure the next time I see her after having fallen into her hotel room isn’t in front of my teammates. I don’t think she’ll say anything to embarrass me—though I would deserve it if she did—but I’ve already done enough to give my friends the impression that something is up between Summer and me. If I can avoid doing so, I’d rather not fuel the fire. I wait long enough that I start to wonder if I missed her, or if maybe she decided to stay in to avoid seeing me, but then her door swings open. Summer looks go...

I guess it’s good one of us isn’t scared—because she scares the hell out of me.

“Do you think the two of us could talk later? In private?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “Is everything okay?” “Not really,” I answer, opting for honesty. “There’s a thing happening with my little brother, and I could use some legal advice.” “Oh,” she says, her shoulders dropping in a way that makes me wonder if she’s disappointed that my reason is so practical. “Like…a criminal thing? Is it urgent? We can always skip going out and just talk now.” The elevator opens into the lobby, revealing Alec, Van, Tucker, and Dumbo already standing near the door. “It’s not urgent. After is good. Or whenever it’s convenient.” She nods as we walk toward my teammates. “Okay. I’m happy to help. And we’ve already established that you know exactly where to find me.” She gives me that same flirty smile, and my heart turns over in my chest. Alec raises his eyebrows as he steps beside me while Summer moves off to talk to Van. “What was that about?” He tilts his head toward Summer. “What was what about? I ran into her on the elevator.” “Right,” Alec says dryly. “And sitting with her on the bus today was only about keeping Dominik away.” “Stop. It’s nothing. I already told you it’s nothing. Are we going? I’m hungry.” Alec chuckles and slaps me on the back. “Relax, Bruiser. We’re going.” A few feet away, Summer laughs at something Van says, and an uncomfortable envy takes up residence in my chest. Yeah. Relax. I have a feeling that’s going to be easier said than done.

“What do you think?” I nudge Nathan, who is sitting next to me in the back booth of the pizza place Felix recommended. I point toward a table of women sitting a few yards away. “Are they staring because they’re hockey fans and they recognize you, or are they staring because there are five of you and one of me, and they think this is an episode of The Bachelorette?” “The what?” Nathan asks. “You’ve never heard of The Bachelorette?” Dumbo asks from across the table. “Twenty guys all vying for the same woman?” Nathan’s eyes widen. “That sounds horrible.” The look of utter horror crossing his face is so blatant, I have to lift my hand to my mouth to keep from laughing. Dumbo shrugs. “Makes for good TV though. She dates them all at once, slowly eliminating the ones she isn’t interested in.” “So, like, you actually watch it?” Tucker asks. “I know what it is because I don’t live under a rock like some people we know”—he tilts his head in a sideways nod toward Nathan—“but I don’t watch it.” “So what if I do? I’m not ashamed.” Dumbo takes another slice of pizza from the center of the table. “I’ve learned a lot about dating from that show.” “Like what?” Nathan asks around a mouthful of salad. “How to date multiple people at once? You could just ask Van for advice about that.” “I heard that,” Van says from Nathan’s other side. “And I don’t deserve it. I might date a lot, but I follow the rules.” The rest of the guys don’t respond to this comment at all, which makes me think Van is ta...

Parker told me about Nathan wanting to show Dominik how to be an Appie, but I’m curious to hear more from the guys themselves. “What are they?” I ask. “Can you tell me?” Alec nods at Van, like he’s giving him permission to elaborate. “Clearly, the ones pertaining to dating are the most relevant for me,” Van says, motioning up and down his body like his person is more than enough evidence as to why, “since I’m so much better at it than the rest of the team.” Alec rolls his eyes, but honestly, I can’t help but smile. I’m not sure how Van manages to be both full of himself and utterly and completely charming at the same time, but he’s adorable, and he’s totally pulling it off. “Just tell her the rules, man,” Nathan grumbles from beside me. “Number one. We always respect women,” Van says. “All women. Whether we’re dating them or not. Being Appies means we’re role models, not just athletes. We take that seriously.” All the guys at the table nod along as Van speaks, and my heart swells the tiniest bit. “For me,” Van continues, “that means I’m always up-front about what I’m looking for, and I don’t date multiple women at once.” “Okay. I like these rules. What else?” I ask. “Your teammates are your brothers,” Alec says. “Even the ones you don’t like.” Tucker coughs into his hand, the cough sounding an awful lot like the name Dominik, and his teammates laugh. “No fights off the ice,” Nathan says. “And no unnecessary fights on the ice,” Alec adds in his captain voice, leveling Natha...

Summer,” Van says, shifting the conversation to me. “Tell me. Do you have any sisters?” He lifts his eyebrows suggestively, giving me a wide grin. “Seriously? All this talk about honor and integrity and being an Appie, and now you’re looking to hit on my sisters?” “So you do have some,” he says. I ignore the fact that Van seems interested in learning about my sisters when he’s never shown any interest in me. Not that I want to date Van. I don’t. But seriously? We’re just going to leapfrog over me as a possibility altogether? I fold my arms across my chest. “As long as you’re wearing that smirk, I’m not saying a word.” Van wipes a hand down his face and schools his expression. “Just making conversation.” I roll my eyes, but I reach for my phone anyway and pull up a picture of Lucy and me at Audrey’s wedding. We’re both in bridesmaids’ dresses with our hair up, making it almost impossible to tell us apart. “I have two sisters,” I say. “Audrey, the oldest, is married.” I hand him my phone. “And this is my twin, Lucy.” “Whoa,” Van says. “You’re identical?” Alec leans over and looks at the photo. “I can’t tell who is who.” He passes it to Tucker and Dumbo, who both look before Nathan...

let’s talk about Lucy,” Dumbo says around a bite of pizza, and I force my gaze away from Nathan to answer him. “Is she single?” I narrow my gaze. “Y’all are giving me a complex. We’re identical twins, but you only want to know if Lucy is single? Should I assume I have a terrible personality and that’s why you aren’t asking about me?” The tips of Dumbo’s ears turn bright red, and his eyes widen. “Oh, uh—” His gaze shifts to Nathan for the briefest second before returning to me. “It’s just…you work for the team. That makes you off-limits.” Off-limits? “Um, pretty sure Parker told me there aren’t any rules against dating the players.” The last thing I want to do is give Dumbo the impression I’m into him, but this is the second time in five minutes that one of them has asked about Lucy without any curiosity about my own eligibility. And now they’ve branded me completely off-limits? “Right. Not like, official, on-the-books rules,” Dumbo says, but I can tell he’s equivocating. “It’s more just one of the Appies rules. That the guys have.” Huh. Still not tracking. “Didn’t Parker work for the team before she started dating Logan?” Dumbo clears his throat, looking around at his teammates ...

what, you just don’t date, then?” I ask him, leaning close enough that the rest of the guys, who are locked in an argument over pizza toppings, can’t hear us. “That feels so sad.” Nathan shrugs. “I date. Just not seriously. I play hockey. I can’t do both.” His words feel so final. So matter-of-fact. Like this is his reality and nothing is going to change it. I lean back into the booth, surprised by how much this disappoints me. I mean, yes, I admitted to Lucy that I have a crush, but it’s only a crush. This shouldn’t be a big deal. But also, is Nathan truly serious? Will he just not date at all until he retires? I don’t know when that typically happens for hockey players, but I’m guessing it’s not until they’re in their thirties or forties. Surely he doesn’t want to be alone until then. Though, there’s a lot of ground between alone and in a relationship. Maybe he’s just really good at keeping things casual…and casual is enough for him? The thought makes me frown. I d...