Page 42 of Power Pucking Play

I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering sensations before I can even think of making an attempt to get out of my bed. But my cell beats me to it.

It buzzes, mercifully yanking me out of my hormonal tailspin. It's a news alert: "CHICAGO BLADES SECURE PLAYOFF SPOT!"

Well, well, well.

Looks like Gio and the boys have something to celebrate. And me? I've got a whole new angle for my article. Assuming I can string two words together without thinking about last night's kiss. Or this morning's dream. Or…

Nope. Not going there.

I drag myself out of bed, stumbling toward the coffee maker like it's a lifeline. As I wait for the sweet, sweet caffeine to kick in, I scroll through my notifications. Texts from Sophie, emails from my editor, and...a missed call from my boss.

Crap.

I take a fortifying sip of coffee and hit the redial button, praying he's in a good mood.

"Brookes! About time you called back. I was starting to think you'd gone native out there in Seattle."

I force a laugh, trying to sound casual. "Just doing my job, Charlie. You know, embedded journalism and all that."

"Right, right. So, what've you got for me? Any juicy tidbits on our favorite bad boy?"

I freeze, my mind suddenly blank.

Juicy tidbits?

Oh, I've got those all right. Like how Gio's lips taste like mint and something uniquely him. Or how his hands feel when they're cupping my face. Or how hard his…

"Brookes? You still there?"

I clear my throat, snapping back to reality. "Yeah, sorry. Just, uh, organizing my thoughts. You know, there's a lot to process."

"I bet," he says, and I can practically hear his eyes roll through the phone. "Look, kid, I need something concrete. De Luca's temper tantrums on the ice aren't news anymore. I need the real dirt. What makes him tick? What's he hiding?"

My stomach churns, and it's not just the subpar hotel coffee. "I'm working on it. These things take time, you know? Can't rush the process."

He sighs, and I wince at the disappointment in his voice. "Time is money, Brookes. And right now, you're costing me both. I gave you this assignment because I thought you could handle it. Don't make me regret that decision."

"I won't," I promise, even as guilt gnaws at my insides. "I'll have something for you soon. Scout's honor."

As soon as I hang up, I flop back onto the bed, groaning. What the hell am I doing? I'm supposed to be writing a hard-hitting exposé, not playing tonsil hockey with my subject.

My phone buzzes again, this time with a text from Sophie:

"Hey, boss lady! Got some intel for you. Call me when you can. It's juicy ??"

I hit dial before I can talk myself out of it.

"Lexi!" Sophie's chipper voice fills the line. "How's Seattle? Did you see the news about the playoffs? Isn't it exciting?"

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, Soph, it's great. But what's this intel you've got for me?"

"Oh, right!" I can practically hear her bouncing in her seat. "So, you know Parker Altman? That slimy reporter from the sports desk?"

My stomach drops. Parker's been gunning for my job since day one. "Yeah, what about him?"

"Well, I overheard him talking to his buddy in accounting. Apparently, he's been digging into Gio's past. Like, way back. Childhood stuff, family drama, the works."

I sit up straight, suddenly alert. "What kind of stuff?"

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