Page 196 of Power Play

“Dude’s a fu—dang showoff.” Liam grins and I narrow my eyes at him. “But he deserved for that to be his. It’s about time the trophy came home to DC.”

“Thank you, Liam, and congratulations on the win.” I turn to the camera, but I can feel him staring at me. “We’re going to send it back to Bradley who will break down all the stats from tonight’s game. Stick around.”

Bernie gives me the all clear, and I tuck my microphone in my back pocket.

“Almost had you there, didn’t I?” Liam says, kissing the top of my head. “Wanted to keep you on your toes.”

“You’re never allowed to be in front of a camera again.”

“Well, shucks. How will I survive?”

I shove his arm and he picks me up, skating me toward the bench.

“Put me down.” I laugh. “What are you doing with me?”

“Giving you time in the sin bin for that rough hit. Means I get a power play, Pipsqueak.”

“And what the hell are you going to do with that?”

“Dunno. Might ask you to marry me for real. Might move you into my apartment so I can see you every morning. Might love you until you’re so sick of me, you’ll be fucking begging for me to leave you alone. And you know I like it when you beg.” He opens the penalty box and sets me on the bench. He crouches in front of me and grins. “Want to stick around to find out?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, the pressure in my chest expanding when my eyes meet his. When he takes my hand and kisses my palm, resting it against his cheek. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

“Good.” He taps my knee. “I’m just getting started with you, Sunshine.”

EPILOGUE

ONE YEAR LATER

Piper

“Morning, Piper!”CJ, the security guard stationed at the entrance to the Arena, calls out.

I wave at him and head for the media room, behind schedule but not wanting to be rude. “Morning, CJ. How are the grandkids?”

“They won’t stop talking about the tour you gave them last week. Sarah wants to be a hockey player now. Watching from the stands isn’t going to cut it anymore.”

“As she should. We need more female hockey players, and Emmy will be thrilled. Tell them they’re welcome at the arena anytime.”

I hum as I make my way down the familiar tunnel, in a good mood that seems to follow me everywhere these days.

It’s been a wild year since the Stars won the Stanley Cup.

I secured a contract extension, got promoted to lead play-by-play commentator—becoming the first woman in NHL history to hold the position—and dove headfirst into working my ass off.

After an aggressive free agency period last summer that had dozens of teams vying for our guys with signing incentives and massive paychecks, our core group of players came back in an attempt to repeat their championship run.

So far, it’s going exactly like we hoped. They’re deep in the Eastern Conference finals, up three games to one against New York, and hoping to close out the series tonight at home.

Theyreallywant to keep the Cup in DC.

My friends are as happy as ever, with Maverick and Emmy settling in nicely out in the suburbs and Maven and Dallas welcoming a healthy baby boy who is as cute as can be. He’s pulling himself up to stand already, and I think they have a future football player on their hands.

My sweet Lexi is still a proud single woman who would rather not do a project than ask a man for help. Stubborn and sharp, I admire her ability to not give a fuck.

“Little P! There’s my favorite reporter!” Ethan calls out, grinning at me.

I can spot his black eye from over here. The mark and bruise on his cheek are left over from a motorcycle crash that landed him in the hospital for two weeks and earned him a string of expletive-laced text messages calling him out for his daredevil ways from the team once they knew he was okay.

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