Page 63 of Puck Prince

“I didn’t want to do this, Owen. But I can’t have her getting hurt again.” I’m actually surprised by the softness in his tone. He sighs and rubs at his chin, fingers raking through his short beard. “Callie is in a very vulnerable situation right now. Because of some events in her past, even just working in the hockey industry was a risk. But I hired her because she’s an excellent PT.”

“I agree with that.”

“She’s also like a daughter to me. I practically raised her. Do you understand?”

Do I understand the threat laced through every single syllable of what he just said?

“Yes, sir.”

“I want to protect her.” He arches a brow.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

And I do. My nephew is the same for me.

“Which means I wantyouto protect her. As much as I don’t like any of this, I am trusting you, son. You’re an incredible hockey player, Sharpe. One of the best I’ve ever had the honor of coaching. And while I don’t know you that well off the ice, I want to believe that you’ll put the same care, concern, and passion into your personal life as you do your professional life. Do you understand what I am saying?”

I nod again. “I do, sir. And I will.”

“Good.” He grabs the paper and tucks it into his desk drawer. “You’re dismissed.”

Unsure what else to say, I stand up and make my way to the door.

“Oh, and Sharpe?”

I turn around.

“Ice that hand..”

I flex my fingers, pain shooting through my swollen knuckles. “You got it, Coach.”

I let out an exhausted breath as I make my way down the hall. I was ready for a lot of things when I walked in there this morning. Coach is a bit of a drill sergeant on his best days and Satan’s right-hand torturer on his worst. A little fire and brimstone seemed warranted.

But that was… different. Seeing him bare his soul, even if it was just for a second, was an odd sensation.

And then there’s the bigger issue.A contract.

That’s a hop skip and a jump more official than the conditions I agreed to in the hallway of my apartment building.

This whole thing is becoming too real, too fast. I’m contractually bound to a relationship with Callie Coleman.

The woman who gets on every nerve I possess.

The woman who has been nothing but a stubborn pain in the ass since the night I saved her from freezing to death.

The woman who was so stellar in the sack I haven’t stopped thinking about her since that night.

But none of this is real. Even though we just signed a contract, we aren’tactuallydating—we just agreed to keep doing what we’ve already been doing. Coach, the fans, the media, the world… they don’t need to know that.

Some things are real, though.

Like how, as I pass the training room, my chest goes tight. She’s right there, just on the other side of the door.

I wasn’t lying when I told Coach Randy I’d protect her.

And I’d be lying to myself if I said that the concern I have for her safety is fake.

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