Page 24 of Captain's Claim

Blake never stops moving. He paces along the boards, calling plays, clapping a kid on the back when they make a good pass, grumbling when they miss an easy shot. He’s firm, but patient.

And somehow, watching him like this makes my chest feel weirdly tight.

"Blake's got ‘em running tight this year," a deep voice rumbles behind me.

I jolt, nearly sloshing what's left of my hot chocolate down my coat.

A broad-shouldered man in a weathered Ridgeview Tavern hoodie stands beside us, his gray eyes crinkled with amusement.

Natalie grins. "Eli! You sneaky old man."

Eli Thompson, Iron Ridge legend. Former Icehawks enforcer turned tavern owner, unofficial mayor of the locker room. I've seen his face plastered on nearly every wall around Icehawk Stadium this week.

He nods at Natalie, then turns to me, assessing. Not unkind, but sharp. Like he’s piecing something together.

"Sophia Hart, right?"

I blink. “Nice to meet you, Eli. I'm surprised you know who I am.”

"Small town, sweetheart. Everyone knows everything."

Natalie rolls her eyes. "Don’t let him scare you. Eli likes to pretend he's mysterious, but really, he’s just nosy as hell."

Eli smirks, then nods toward the rink. "Blake’s done a hell of a job with them, huh?"

Something in his voice makes me hesitate. “He clearly takes it seriously.”

"Yeah, well.Hewould."

My brows knit together. “Has Blake always run the program?”

Eli’s smirk twitches. "He took it on. I mean, it was basically his destiny to inherit the role that meant so much to him."

Meant so much to him?What's that supposed to mean?

But before I can ask, a loud whistle cuts through the air and a loud cheer goes up around the rink. Applause breaks out and I join in, snapping my head towards the rink and-

Blake's moving towards us, eyes locked onto me like a goddamn missile. "Alright, Ms. Hart. Time for your Iron Ridge initiation."

"Wh-what?"

Blake smirks, but before I can ask what the hell is going on, a snowball hits him square in the chest.

He barely reacts. Just shifts his weight, flicks a speck of ice off his sleeve, and meets my eyes with an unholy amount of smug amusement.

"Get in here! Hope you can dodge, sweetheart!"

Another snowball slams into Blake’s chest.

I swallow, glancing at the ice rink, where kids are already scooping up handfuls of snow that's been dumped in the center of the ice, their playful eyes bright with mischief.

Oh. Oh no.

"I don’t think so,"I say quickly, holding up my hands. "I’m wearing suede."

Blake just grins. A slow, cocky, downright dangerous grin.

"Not for long."

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