Page 60 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

“Alright, boys, focus!” Jonathan Reid—the team director—claps his hands, looking around like a principal watching over a class of mischievous schoolchildren. “We’re still on live, and the fans are sending in requests!”

Fans. Right. I’m supposed to be focused on making sure the players don’t turn this entire gift-wrapping event into a WWE Smackdown. I glance back at the screen where comments are flooding in:

@hockeygurl123: Omg, Ryan, you’re doing amazing, sweetie!

@ethansbae: Ethan’s wrapping skills = boyfriend goals.

@wrapwarrior: Someone save Liam from that ribbon, lmao.

Looking up to catch Ethan looking at his phone again, this time I can’t resist sending him another text.

Me: Care to sneak away? I need to ‘supervise’ the supply closet.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but the corner of his mouth twitches as if he’s trying—and failing—not to smile. Two seconds later, I feel his hand lightly brush mine beneath the table, the signal I’ve been waiting for.

Lauren, stationed nearby, suddenly glances over, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. I stiffen, pretending to be deeply interested in the ribbon situation, but Lauren’s gaze lingers a second too long.

“Everything okay, Holly?” Lauren asks, her voice full of that knowing tone, like a mom who’s caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.

“Uh-huh,” I nod, swallowing hard. “Just ... making sure the boys aren’t about to accidentally set the place on fire with that gift wrap.”

Lauren’s eyebrow arches, but thankfully, she’s distracted by the sound of a player knocking over a box of ornaments on the far side of the room. “Liam!” she yells, rushing off to prevent further destruction.

Seizing the moment, I slip out from the chaos and duck into the hallway, my heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. Sure enough, Ethan is right behind me, looking cool as ever.

“Took you long enough,” he says, the corner of his lips twitching with amusement as he crowds me against the wall.

“Yeah, well, I was busy, you know, doing my job,” I quip back, though my voice is breathier than I’d like it to be.

Ethan leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “Is this part of your job description, too?”

“Oh, absolutely,” I whisper, my fingers curling into the front of his jersey as I pull him closer. “Quality control.”

His lips crash onto mine, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away. The chaos of gift wrapping, the TikTok live, the guys shouting back and forth—it’s all background noise now. All that matters is the heat between us, the electric current that seems to pulse every time we’re near each other.

I pull back, my lips tingling. “We should ... get back before someone notices.”

Ethan chuckles, resting his forehead against mine. “Yeah, don’t want to get caught sneaking kisses on live TikTok.”

But just as we’re about to return to the locker room, a familiar voice echoes through the hall, sending a chill down my spine.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Chicago’s golden boys.”

My blood runs cold as I step out to see Jake Roland striding into the room, all swagger and smugness like he owns the place.

And from the looks of him grinning with Jonathan Reid, he might as well think he does.

19

ETHAN

Something walksthrough the door that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Holly’s eyes go wide, her entire body stiffens, and the fingers, which were subtly brushing against mine a moment ago, retract like she’s touched a hot stove.

The tension in the air thickens like the worst kind of pre-game jitters—whipping me around to see what kind of mess we’re in.

TheJake Rolandkind.

Nothing saysthis day’s about to go down the drainquite like the arrival of a grinning ex who looks like he just walked off the set of a cheesy holiday rom-com.

---