Page 99 of The Dixon Rule

“Besides,” the guy next to him adds, “if you’re really gonna give out awards for the most beautiful, that one over there obviously wins.”

He points at a fourth man who’s gliding toward the small group of men. The newcomer is tall, blond, and looks like a male model. He’s snapping on a black helmet as he joins the others.

“Dude,” gripes the player at the end of the bench. “That’s my dad.”

I examine the teen, instantly noting the resemblance. His name is Beau, and although his hair is a shade darker than his father’s, he has the same green eyes and chiseled features. He hasn’t completely filled out yet, but he’s already tall and built. I fear for the opponents he’ll be facing in a couple years.

“Refs!” Graham blows his whistle to get our attention. He waves Will and me over.

Will eyes me nervously. “Don’t let me say anything to embarrass myself.”

“Same.”

Garrett greets us with a smile and introduces us to John Logan, who needs no introduction, and Dean Di Laurentis, who as it turns out is the head coach of the Yale women’s hockey team. Like Will and me, Logan and Dean are decked out in striped long-sleeves, black helmets, and whistles around their necks. But the two men also wear orange armbands, since they’re refs and we’re lowly linesmen.

Ryder and Troy Talvo round out the group. As assistant coaches, they had the difficult task of helping Garrett and Jake select today’s two teams. Ryder said they chose the players based on their strengths and weaknesses, having worked with them all week.

Garrett is about to give us instructions when his gaze sharply veers toward the home bench. “Hey, G,” he calls. “Hold up. I want to talk to you before you go!”

“Oh shit, I didn’t realize they were leaving. Give me a sec too.” Ryder pushes off on his blades, skating after his father-in-law.

Gigi waits for them at the bench, leaning over the side to give Ryder a quick kiss before turning to speak to her father. She’s not alone—a girl with light-brown hair wanders away from Gigi toward the other bench to speak to some of the boys. She’s wearing cutoff shorts and a black tank top that bears her midriff, and there isn’t a single teenage boy on that bench who isn’t checking her out.

As we wait for Garrett and Ryder, Will and I awkwardly stand with our fellow refs while I try not to leer at John Logan’s shoulders. They’re enormous. How is he still so fit at his age? I mean, okay, he’s not ancient. Early forties maybe. But still. The man is in better shape than a lot of guys my age.

“You’re late,” Dean hollers at yet another newcomer.

A man with auburn hair skates over, his blades hissing as he comes to a stop. He rolls his eyes at Dean. “Calm yourself. I’m not even reffing. Just here for the entertainment.” Noticing Will and me, he smiles. “Hey. I’m Tucker.”

“Shane,” I say, reaching to shake his hand. “This is Will.”

“Did you guys all play together in college?” Troy Talvo asks, gesturing between the three men. “I heard Garrett say something like that.”

“Briar hockey, baby,” Dean confirms, flashing a perfect white smile. “We were unstoppable.”

Logan nods, blue eyes gleaming. “Back-to-back Frozen Four wins. Damn. That was something, huh?”

“That’s our plan for this season,” I tell the men. “We killed it last year, so now we—”

I startle when Logan suddenly growls. “Nope. No fucking way, Dean. This is not fucking happening. Go get your boy.”

I follow his gaze and see Beau Di Laurentis hugging the girl in the crop top. They’re clearly happy to see each other.

“Chill. It’s just a hug,” Dean replies, unbothered.

“His hand grazed her lower back.”

“His hand didn’t graze shit.”

Logan’s tone remains deadly. “It’s not happening. I’m not letting a Di Laurentis corrupt her.”

“He’s only sixteen, and he’s not doing anything.”

Trying not to laugh, I interrupt their heated exchange. “I take it that’s your daughter and that’s his son?” I ask Logan.

“No, that’s my daughter, and that is his future fuckboy.”

“I mean, the kid’s old enough to already be one,” I hedge, while Will snickers softly.