Page 26 of The Pucking Player

There’s no way out now. I sigh, setting my glass down and bracing myself. “It’s on his left butt cheek,” I admit reluctantly. “A stylized hockey stick withFortis fortuna adiuvatwritten along it.”

Jessica’s eyebrows shoot up in delighted surprise. “Fortune favors the bold,” she translates instantly, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Wow. That’s…actually pretty badass. But why keep it a secret?”

I fidget with my fork, avoiding her gaze. “Do you remember how Dad reacted when you got your belly button pierced? Adam didn’t want to risk it. Plus, I think he likes having something that’s just his—something only I know about.”

Jessica’s expression softens, her playful edge fading for just a moment. “I get it,” she says quietly. “But...I feel a little left out, you know?”

“I know,” I say, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry. We should have told you.”

Her grin returns, slow and mischievous. “Well, now that I know, we can definitely use this as blackmail material.”

I laugh, relieved that she’s not upset. “You’re terrible!”

“I prefer to think of myself as resourceful,” she quips, winking. Then her expression shifts again, this time tosomething far more speculative. “Speaking of tattoos…you think Liam has any?”

The image that immediately pops into my head—Liam, shirtless, with intricate designs tracing the hard lines of his chest—sends heat spreading across my cheeks.

“Jess!” I sputter, horrified. “I really didn’t need that visual!”

But Jessica is already off and running, waving me off as she ladles the stir-fry into bowls. “I bet he does. Something masculine and mysterious. Maybe a Celtic knot? Or a wolf? Ooh, or maybe something in Gaelic across his shoulders…”

I can’t help it—the mental image is both ridiculous and undeniably enticing. I burst out laughing, Jessica joining in moments later.

“Stop, stop,” I gasp, clutching my sides as the giggles overtake me. “This isnothelping!”

Jessica wipes tears of laughter from her eyes, still grinning. “You’re right. Focus. We need to focus.”

She sets the bowls on the island and leans forward, her tone suddenly all business. “Now, are you going to help the team with this gala situation or not?”

I slump onto one of the high-backed barstools, groaning. “That’s low, Jess. Using sick kids against me?”

She shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “All’s fair in love and PR, baby sis.”

As she turns back to the stove, I let my gaze wander around the room. The juxtaposition of her colonial home’s classic exterior with this ultra-modern interior never fails to strike me. It’s so…Jessica. Traditional with a twist. Just like her.

“Besides,” she continues, a sly glint in her eye, “think of the networking opportunities. Top doctors, hospitaladministrators…people who could really boost your future career. Or, at the very least, open doors.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Fighting dirty is your middle name, big sis.”

Jessica flashes a triumphant grin. “I prefer to think of it as strategic persuasion.”

I poke at my bowl with my fork. “Why don’t you go with Finn instead? Wouldn’t that be more fun for you? You could show off those sculpted arms of yours in a slinky dress. I bet he’d be all in.”

Jessica’s face immediately scrunches like she’s bitten into a lemon. “Finn? Please. That man is as dense as a hockey puck. I’ve been throwing hints his way formonths.I even ‘accidentally’ spilled coffee on my shirt the other day just to see what he’d do.”

“And?” I lean in, intrigued despite myself.

“He offered me a napkin. Anapkin,Sophie!” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “I’m starting to think Dad’s secretly injected the entire team with some kind of anti-Novak-daughter vaccine.”

The mental image is too good. I dissolve into laughter. “Oh God, can you imagine? ‘Step right up, boys! One dose, and you’ll be immune to Novak charms forever!’”

Jessica laughs along, but there’s a flicker of frustration in her eyes. “I swear, I could walk into that locker room naked, and they’d just hand me a towel and ask about the weather.”

“Well,” I say, trying to keep a straight face, “it is unseasonably cold. Wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.”

She chucks a piece of broccoli at me. “You’re terrible. But seriously, what’s a girl got to do to get some attention around here? Rent a billboard?”

“‘Attention hockey players,’“ I declare in my best radiovoice, “‘Jessica Novak is single and ready to mingle. Inquire within. Warning: Protective father may cause severe bodily harm.’”

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