Page 2 of The Pucking Player

I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched. My brain scrambles to process the revelation that Coach Novak’s baby girl isn’t a baby anymore. Far from it.

Meanwhile, Sophie turns to me, clearly unfazed, and offers a polite smile. But those green eyes, piercing and playful, lock onto mine and hold. It’s like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, and she’s daring me to say it out loud.

My pulse kicks up a notch as I take her outstretched hand. It’s warm and soft, her grip firm enough to tell me she doesn’t mess around.

“Nice to see you again, Liam,” she says, her voice calm and confident, like she hasn’t noticed—or doesn’t care—that I’m still trying to reboot my brain.

“Uh…” The word comes out strangled, which earns me an arched brow from Jessica and a barely contained snort from Nate.

“What took you so long? Did you park in Jersey?” Nate quips as we sit down, shoving my coffee toward me like that’ll somehow snap me out of it.

I take the cup without looking at him, my attention still locked on the girl.

Because Sophie Novak—Coach’s youngest daughter, who used to follow Jessica around at team barbecues withbraces and a scrunchie—is sitting across from me. Only now, she’s…well,this.

And I’m completely, utterly screwed.

Her lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. “Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous Liam O’Connor,” she says, her tone teasing and deliberate, like she’s enjoying watching me squirm. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you lately. Daddy has all sorts of good things to say.”

Daddy.The word lands like anvil, a jarring reminder of exactly why this girl is about as off-limits as they come.

But the way she looks at me—sharp eyes holding mine, that subtle challenge in her voice—makes it damn hard to remember why I should stay away.

Coach Novak would kill me. No, scratch that. He’dmurderme, bury me at center ice, and probably do it with a grin.

The league’s notorious bad boy cozying up to his youngest daughter? Yeah, that’s a disaster waiting to happen. My captaincy—and probably my career—wouldn’t survive the fallout.

Sophie raises her eyebrows, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement, and suddenly, none of that seems to matter. Because even though IknowI should steer clear, there’s something about her that makes me want to throw every rule out the window.

I recover quickly, slipping on the smirk that’s been called both infuriating and irresistible. “Is that so? I hope I live up to your expectations.”

Her gaze holds mine, steady and unflinching, and for a second, it’s like the room narrows down to just the two of us. The hum of the coffee shop fades, and all I can think about is how easy it would be to close the space between us and?—

“Liam.”

Jessica’s voice cuts through the tension, smug as hell. I don’t even have to look at her to know she’s enjoying thiswaytoo much.

She shifts her attention to the journalist at the table, mercifully dragging me back to reality. “And this is Emilia,” she says. “She’s here to cover the hospital visit for the team’s press campaign.”

Emilia practically vibrates with excitement, her grin so wide it looks like it might split her face. “Liam, it’s such an honor to meet you! I’m a huge fan of you and Nate—of theteam, of course. And the work you both do in the community. Not just you two specifically, I mean. Oh, God, I’m rambling, aren’t I? I’ll just…stop talking now.”

I chuckle, reaching out to shake her hand. “It’s all good, Emilia. We’re thrilled to have you here. I can’t wait to meet my little fans and brighten their day.”

She exhales like I’ve just granted her a stay of execution, and the rest of the group dives into a conversation about the game plan for the visit. At least,they’retalking logistics.

Me? My attention keeps drifting back to Sophie.

She’s sitting a little apart from the table’s chatter, her slim fingers curled around her coffee cup. When I glance her way, I catch her watching me out of the corner of her eye.

Our gazes collide, and her cheeks flush. As the two faint stains rise high on her cheekbones, I swear I can feel the heat of it from across the table.

I should stop staring. Ishould. But there’s something so damn captivating about the way she blushes, like she’s not used to being caught off guard.

She ducks her head, glancing down at her coffee as she tucks a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. It’s such a small, quiet gesture, but it hooks me all the same.

I bite back a grin, my mind wandering to places it absolutely shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be wondering what her lips would taste like. Or how soft her mouth might feel against mine.

Oh, fuck. I’m a goner for this girl.

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