Page 1 of Pucking the Team

CHAPTER 1

EMMA

What do you wear when you’re trying to impress a team of hot hockey players without accidentally seducing them? Asking for a friend.

I tug at the hem of my dress, second-guessing my outfit choice for the tenth time. The midnight blue fabric clings to my curves like a second skin, the neckline dipping just low enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage.

It’s the kind of dress that says “I’m here to be noticed” without crossing the line into “I’m desperate for attention.”

At least, I hope that’s the message it sends.

I slide on a pair of strappy silver heels, the final touch to an ensemble that’s miles away from my standard uniform of leggings and oversized sweatshirts. I’m not usually one for getting dolled up, but tonight isn’t just any night.

It’s my chance to scope out the NHL players of the Chicago Blizzards before I officially start my new gig as their social media manager on Monday.

The things I do for love…of hockey.

It’s pure luck that we found out where the players would be tonight. My bestie Selena follows one of their forwards, DJ Johnson, on socials and caught a story he’d posted about celebrating his birthday tonight at The Gilded Lily in the West Loop.

One harebrained plan later, and here I am, getting ready to infiltrate the team and spy on them in person.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the mingling scents of hairspray and perfume throughout the cramped apartment that Selena and I share. Our cozy Ukranian Village abode is a perfect reflection of our personalities—an eclectic mix of mismatched furniture, colorful throw pillows, and walls plastered with photos documenting our years of friendship.

It’s cluttered and lived-in, but it’s home.

The bathroom door swings open and Selena emerges in a swirl of bold red satin, her dress hugging her tall, curvy frame like it was made for her. Her dark hair is slicked back into a sleek ponytail and her lips are painted a daring shade of crimson.

She looks effortlessly glamorous, as always.

Selena lets out a low whistle as she looks me up and down. “Damn girl, the hockey boys won’t know what hit ’em when you walk in looking like that!”

I feel a flush creep up my neck and I tug self-consciously at my dress again.

“I’m not trying to impress them.” My voice comes out more defensive than I intend. “I just want to blend in enough to get a read on what they’re really like when their guard is down, you know?”

After all, starting Monday, I’m going to be spending a whole lot of time with these guys. Tonight’s my only shot to see the real them before they put on their PR faces for the new girl.

Selena quirks a perfectly arched brow. “Uh-huh, sure. You keep telling yourself that. Personally, I plan on doing a whole lot more than just observing, if you know what I mean.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I can’t help but laugh at my audacious friend’s antics. Leave it to Selena to dive headfirst into a room full of pro athletes with only one goal in mind.

Maybe some of her boldness will rub off on me tonight.

Selena grabs my hands and tugs me close until we’re standing hip to hip in front of the mirror. Her eyes, framed by false lashes, turn suddenly serious as they bore into mine.

“Emma Collins, you listen to me. These hockey hotties aren’t going to know what hit them when they meet you. You’re going to knock their skates right off their feet. Just you wait and see.”

Her words wrap around me like a warm hug, bolstering my resolve. I take a deep breath, letting her confidence seep into my skin. “You’re right.” I nod decisively, holding her gaze.

A grin splits Selena’s ruby red lips. “Damn straight, I am! Now let’s get this party started. I’ve got a gaggle of hockey players to charm the pants off of. Literally.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively again and I can’t contain the snort that escapes me as she guides me out of our apartment.

The cool evening air hits my face as Selena and I step out of our rideshare. I take a deep breath, inhaling the particular smell of the city at night—car exhaust mingled with the aroma of gourmet food wafting from nearby restaurants.

“Come on, Em, the night awaits!” Selena grabs my hand and tugs me forward with an excited grin. I stumble after her in my heels, teetering precariously on the uneven sidewalk.

All around us, the streets of the West Loop pulse with energy. Packs of well-dressed other twenty-somethings strut by like they own the place, laughing raucously. Neon signs flash overhead, beckoning patrons into crowded bars and clubs. The bass thumps from inside, the musical heartbeat of the city.

My own heart races as I take it all in, a potent cocktail of exhilaration and nerves.

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