Page 30 of Pucking Amazing

The guys waste no time drawing me into the conversation, their good-natured ribbing and easy camaraderie quickly putting me at ease.

“So Sydney, what’s the craziest thing you’ve seen as a team doc so far?” one of the players asks. “Any wild rookie initiation rituals?”

I hesitate, not wanting to admit that the Blizzards are the first team I’ve ever worked with, then grin.

“Well, once during med school, I watched a teacher stitch up a med student who tried to impress a girl by doing a keg stand...totally naked. Not a pretty sight, let me tell you!”

The table erupts in guffaws. Warmth spreads through me as DJ and Tyler lean in, their solid frames bracketing me on either side. It feels good to let loose.

“Where are you originally from, Sydney?” Another innocent question, but it makes me tense up.

“Oh, I just moved here from Boston,” I say lightly, determined not to let my smile falter. Eager to change the subject, I turn to DJ. “So, hot stuff, regale us with a tale from your rookie days. I’m sure you have some gems.”

DJ grins and launches into a raunchy story involving a bottle of tequila, a stripper named Cinnamon, and a live chicken, much to everyone’s delight. And as the guys swap increasingly wild tales, I find myself forgetting all about Boston for the moment, too caught up in the laughter and the intoxicating pull of the two men beside me.

I’m digging into my short rib when the voice of Nikolai, a player I don’t know as well, booms from the other side of my table.

“Lightweights couldn’t handle a real party!” he guffaws, and I suddenly tense.

I know he’s referring to Jason, Mikey, and Tomas, who couldn’t join the event tonight because booze is flowing freely.

My jaw clenches. Irritation prickles under my skin at the crude jab about my patients. Pushing away from the table, I make an excuse about saying hi to Vincent, the general manager, seated three tables over with some of the biggest donors.

Weaving between the tables, snippets of gossip reach my ears. I slow my pace as two well-coiffed women, dripping in diamonds, huddle together in scandalous conversation, their eyes darting back to my table.

“I heard the…what did you call them, Gretchen? Oh, puck bunnies!” Giggles erupt. “Well, I heard the puck bunnies throw themselves at that DJ Johnston especially. He has quite the...reputation, if you know what I mean.”

The women exchange a knowing look.

“Oh, I know what you mean! That body and those tattoos...mmm. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed!”

“Right? No wonder everyone’s absolutely feral for him.”

Laughter trills again and heat flares in my chest, my pulse picking up speed. Irritation, yes. But a thorny tangle of something else too...something green-eyed and possessive.

I shake my head and quicken my steps, trying to outpace the unexpected sting of jealousy.

Smile plastered on my face, I greet Vincent, Coach Daniels, and Chloe, determined not to let idle gossip get under my skin, and I relax as they assure me that the event is going well. But as we’re talking a flash of movement catches my eye.

It’s DJ, leaning against the bar with a devilish grin, two champagne flutes dangling from his fingertips. He tilts his head, beckoning me over with a come-hither look that sends shivers down my spine.

After excusing myself I approach the bar cautiously, pulse quickening as DJ hands me a glass.

His fingers graze mine, lingering just a moment too long. Memories of our rooftop rendezvous flood my mind—his strong hands caressing my thighs, slipping higher and higher...

Choking on my champagne, I sputter inelegantly as DJ chuckles.

“Careful there, Doc. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” His eyes sparkle with mirth and...something darker. Desire.

We make innocuous small talk, but the air crackles between us, sparks threatening to ignite at any second. I need to shut this down before I spontaneously combust.

“Well, guess we should rejoin our table...” I hedge, looking for an escape.

But DJ leans in close, his warm breath tickling my ear. My toes curl in my crazy stilettos as I hear his murmur.

“Or we could find somewhere a little more private to continue our conversation.” His voice is low, seductive, and despite my better judgment, it tugs at every nerve ending in my body.

Flushing scarlet, I stumble back a step, mind reeling even as my body responds to his brazen words.

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