Page 3 of Puck I Did It Again

"Maggie's ours." A group of three more players breeze by on their way out of the locker room, claiming Maggie as their own.

"You wish!" King yells after them, only to be met with a one-finger salute as the door slams shut behind them.

"Oh, okay."

"Don't mind them. They're just butt-hurt about Maggie. They've staked their claim on her, but as far as I can tell, she wants nothing to do with them. She's even taught some of Aubree's goats to headbutt them in the junk during goat yoga. That's why I never miss goat yoga night. Do you want to join me tonight? I can introduce you to Aubree and Maggie—and any of the other guys that show up."

Having a couple of female friends sounds amazing right about now. Besides, yoga is relaxing; maybe I can refocus all my horny energy into something more constructive. "Sure. Why not?"

"Great!" A roguish smile lights up his face, causing my pussy to clench. "Maggie's studio is on Main Street. Give me your phone, and I'll text you the address."

I reach into my pocket, pull out my cellphone, and hand it to King, but his eyes shift over my shoulder.

"Hey, there's Monk now." He waves at Monk to join us. "Coach Wynn, this is Monk—Monk, this is our new coach, Wynn." I turn around only to find myself staring into a startled pair of aquamarine eyes, the same color as the ocean we swam naked in together two years ago. "We call him Monk because in thetwo years he's been with the team, we've never seen him with a girlfriend, boyfriend, or even a puck bunny." King shifts his gaze back to my phone, entering his contact information, oblivious to the conversation around him.

"Two years, huh?" I find myself saying, desperately needing to know if he even remembers me.

"Yup. I was waiting to see if fate would reunite me with a certain mermaid I so foolishly let slip through my fingers two years ago in Barbados."

Well, shit, this just got interesting.

two

Wynn

My reunion with "Monk,"or as I know him, Grady, was short-lived since Don interrupted our conversation to finish the tour of the team's facilities. The tour took longer than expected, causing me to run late for the goat yoga class.

The sound of goats bleating is the first thing that greets me when I open the door to the yoga studio, "Love Yourself Long Time," named after the owner, Maggie Long—I found out after an internet search of the studio.

"I'm here for the goat yoga class," I say to a bored-looking teenager behind the check-in desk as I slip off my long winter coat, covering my sports bra and leggings.

"Name." She sighs, never taking her eyes off her cell phone.

"Wynn Flannery."

"Second door on the right—follow the disgusting smell of goat fur." Her fingers fly across her phone's screen, dismissing me from any further questions I might have about this class or future classes.

As I walk from the front desk to the assigned room, I turn around and look at the girl operating the counter, wondering if the owner knows how rude her employee is. Probably not. I can't imagine anyone putting up with such an insubordinate employee.

My thoughts are interrupted when I slam into what feels like a brick wall—except this brick wall is warm and smells utterly delicious. I lift my eyes from the muscular chest in a tight white T-shirt to a pair of deep brown eyes.

"Are you stalking me now, Princess?" Of course, it would have to be Maximus Martin, who I ran into.

I step back, giving myself a little breathing room before I do something crazy and rub against him like a cat in heat—which is precisely how I feel.

"Stop calling me Princess. I'm your fucking coach." I snarl, needing to regain the upper hand in our player-coach dynamic.

"Is that so—you're my fucking coach." His smile widens, making my stomach drop, causing me to wonder if my snarky comment has just backfired. "Because fucking is the last thing I need to be coached on, Coach." He brushes his arm against mine as he reaches for the classroom door, causing goosebumps all over my body. Not to mention my nipples harden into stiff peaks beneath my damn sports bra. Between that and the tight black leggings that are now damp in the crotch, thanks to this jerk revving up my horny meter again, I'm pretty much screwed for this yoga class.

Screwed. I wish.

"After you." He flashes me another smile while ushering me through the door with a big, warm hand on the middle of my back.

A sarcastic response weighs heavy on my tongue as I step through the door to find the room packed with hockey players, goats, and two women I assume are Maggie and Aubree—all eyes are on the two of us—even the goats.

"Welcome! Welcome!" A gorgeous redhead says from the front of the room. "Sorry, you are the last two to arrive, and thanks to these three who don't know the meaning of being banned forlife from my studio, you'll have to share a goat." She motions to the three hockey player who told me of their claim on her earlier today, grinning like a bunch of fools. "There's a spot in the back between Monk and King—you'll have to share Karen." The goat in question gives me a bored look as I walk toward her, reminding me of the girl at the front desk, causing me to giggle.

"Finally, a beautiful sound coming out of that beautiful mouth." Maximus startles me when he leans down and whispers in my ear as he follows me to our designated spot in the room.

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