Brendan nods. “Is that okay?”

“If Jaz says so.” I’ve been bugging her to ask for help, but I didn’t know she’d take me seriously or invite Brendan for a sleepover. “What are you going to do for Jaz?”

Brendan pulls out a business card. “I used to work for my uncle’s minor league baseball team as a strength and conditioning coach, as well as doing odd jobs for the team, like community outreach. My uncle collects teams like some people collect cars. I know baseball isn’t the same as hockey—but certain parts of the management aren’t that different. When I heard about Sloan, I offered to help. Jaz isn’t good at trusting people to take over her responsibilities. But I promised to keep up with her fundraiser, and that seemed to take a load off her mind. I owe Jaz a favor—something she did for me a long time ago.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking a little embarrassed. “You’re a lucky man, because she’s got a heart of gold. And I say that like a brother.”

I nod.Heart of gold is right.She’d lay down her life for any of us, whether or not we deserved it.

Brendan glances around and walks through the living room,eyeing the fireplace and crown molding. “Good bones in this place. I can see why Jaz wanted to buy it. She was going to send me instructions later today. Do you have anything I could help with?”

“Maybe.” I look him over, unsure if a guy like him has any experience getting his hands dirty. “Are you good with power tools?”

He grins. “Are you kidding me? Give me a drill, and you won’t see me for hours.”

Like that, I know that we’re going to be friends.

Over the next few days, I’m too busy finishing Jaz’s bedroom with Joshua and Brendan to spend time thinking about how much I miss her. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism, but I’d much prefer to whack a nail into a board or crush someone on the ice than discuss my emotions.

With Joshua’s guidance, we finish the built-in desk and bookshelves as well as a spectacular window seat that’s remarkably like the picture Jaz had on her phone.

Gorgeous floor-to-ceiling bookshelves painted in a rich navy blue flank a matching desk that looks out on Granny’s rose garden. I even installed a small gold pendant light over the desk to match the shiny gold handles on her drawers. On the other wall, a new window seat offers the perfect view of the magnolia tree and bird feeder.

I’m ago big or go homekind of guy, and decided the bedroom wasn’t enough. Vale and I tackled the demolition of the wall between the dining room and kitchen, too. With the help of the hockey team, we remodeled the space into one giant room and painted the entire downstairs with the colors Jaz had picked out.

Despite my initial skepticism about Brendan, he’s turned out to be an invaluable help. Not only is he wildly talented with a power drill and paintbrush, he’s also a management genius. He’schecked with every vendor for the upcoming fundraiser, secured two more sponsors, and even made sure our fashion show had all the right touches with Jaz’s approval, including custom hats, socks, and one-of-a-kind Crushers boxers. Even though we will not model them for the event, he claims women will beg to order them for their significant others afterward.

Based on how women flock to Brendan’s magnetic smile, the man could probably sell Crushers’ ice and make a killing.

He even agrees to rehearse with the team for the fundraiser’s opening number. Because the man has no end to his talents, I quickly discover that he dances like a Latin pop star.

After watching the routine twice, he picks up the moves with a flair that’s enviable. His hips definitely don’t lie.

“I thought this guy was here to help Jaz with administrative stuff?” Lucian whispers as we run through the synchronized skating moves for our opening number.

I shrug. “That’s what he told me. I didn’t know he could dance.”

“Maybe he should perform with us,” Leo says. “So he can take the attention off you.”

“Thanks for the support.” I bump his shoulder.

Dawson’s mouth falls open as Brendan adds an extra turn to the choreography. “If I could dance like that, we’d raise a million dollars.”

“We’re hockey players, not dance stars,” I mutter as we form a crooked line.

“No, we’re embarrassing,” Tate says as we all move at different times. “We can’t even do a straight line.”

“Speak for yourself,” Leo says, jutting out his chin. He’s annoyed by how easily Brendan picked up the moves even though he refuses to admit it.

We hit the final pose with big jazz hands, and Brendan scratches his head as we hold our pose. He bites his cheek and frowns. “You’re not staying together with the choreography, but Idon’t think it’s your fault. What this routine needs is not more moves, butless.”

“We feel stupid,” Rourke huffs. “No offense to Jaz. But we’re not dancers. We’re athletes.”

Brendan nods. “I agree. We need to simplify the routine and play to your strengths. Emphasize the skating more and dancing less. But there’s one missing ingredient—your style.”

Leo raises a hand. “What about people who have no style? Like Rourke, here?”

Rourke gives Leo a shove, and he quickly retaliates by pushing back. Brendan’s jaw clenches as the men quickly descend into a juvenile shoving match.

He storms over to them, and in true military fashion, places a hand on their chests and gives them a look that sayscool it. “We’re not fighting about it. When I said style, that’s somethinganyonecan have. It’s like personality. It’s bringing that unique aspect that onlyyoupossess. You might think you’re a macho hockey player, but I want you to check your pride at the door and think of the kids who will benefit from your presentation. This is for a charity—for kids who can’t do everyday tasks without help, some in wheelchairs. And you’re worried about looking bad?”