Page 33 of Pucking the Team

The day wears on, and I document Ryan’s visit through my camera lens throughout it all, capturing candid moments of him laughing with the kids and showcasing his skills on the ice. His humility strikes me—the way he deflects praise and instead focuses on uplifting the young players.

During a break in the action, Ryan glides over to me, his cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion. “Having fun?” he asks, his deep voice sending a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the chill of the rink.

I nod, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “You’re really great with them,” I say softly, gesturing to the kids who are eagerly awaiting their turn to run drills with the NHL star.

Ryan shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “They remind me of myself at that age,” he admits. “I just want to give them the support and encouragement I didn’t always have.”

My heart clenches at his words, a newfound understanding washing over me. Beneath his tough exterior, Ryan is a man who deeply cares about making a difference in the lives of others, who understands first-hand the struggles these kids are facing.

He skates back out to center ice, patiently correcting a young girl’s grip on her stick, and I find myself watching him with new eyes. The more I learn about Ryan, the more I realize how much there is to admire—and how dangerously easy it would be to fall for him.

When the sun begins to set, Ryan and I say our goodbyes to the kids and head to our hotel. There’s a new kind of energy between us that makes my skin tingle.

The front desk at the hotel is made of sleek, polished wood and is adorned with modern light fixtures. The receptionist sits behind it, typing away on her computer, her brow furrowed in concentration. Behind her, a large screen displays images of the hotel’s amenities and services. The lobby is spacious and tastefully decorated with plush couches and vibrant paintings.

The receptionist—Gina, judging by her name tag—frowns, tapping at her keyboard. “I apologize, but it looks like there’s been a mix-up with your reservation,” she tells us. “We only have one room booked under your name.”

My stomach leaps into my throat, my mind racing with the implications.

“Can we at least get two beds?” I ask weakly.

Gina winces. “Unfortunately not. The only room type we have left are king bedrooms. There’s a convention in town, and we’re overbooked.”

My eyes widen in shock as my mind races to process this information. My gaze darts around the stylish lobby, trying to come up with a solution. I can feel my shoulders tense.

One room. One bed.

Ryan, for his part, seems unperturbed. “That’s fine,” he says calmly, taking the room key from the receptionist. “We’ll make it work.”

Has this man never seen a romantic comedy?!

And just like that, my carefully laid plans for a simple, straightforward work trip fly straight out the window.

CHAPTER 14

EMMA

Ryan and I head toward the gleaming silver elevators. I spot Ryan and myself in the mirrored walls, his strong form towering over me. My mind spins thinking about the situation awaiting us upstairs. I never imagined we’d end up in such…intimate accommodations together.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed how his muscular frame fills out a suit, or the intensity of his brown eyes when they lock with mine.

Why are all the guys on this hockey team so freaking hot?!

I bite my lip as we step into the elevator, trying to tame my racing thoughts. It’s not like anything can actually happen between us. I mean, yes, maybe I’ve dabbled in some extracurricular activities with Lukas and Alex—but that’s all very new and casual. We’re nowhere near defining things or having The Talk.

Hooking up with a third coworker would be ridiculous. Unthinkable.

Deeply hot.

I groan internally at myself.

This thing with Ryan has to stay completely platonic.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. I follow Ryan down the generic hotel hallway, the plush carpet muffling our footsteps. He swipes the keycard and pushes open the door to our room. I step inside and can’t contain a small gasp.

The room is surprisingly spacious and modern, with sleek dark wood furniture and accents of deep blue. Floor to ceiling windows offer a stunning view of the glittering Detroit skyline. But what immediately draws my eye is the room’s centerpiece—the single king-sized bed, adorned with plump white pillows and a fluffy duvet that I long to sink into.

Ryan immediately turns to me, his brow creased with concern. “Hey, don’t worry, I’ll take the floor. You should have the bed.”

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