Page 38 of Captain's Claim

And there it is.

The exact spot where my brain short-circuited, my dignity crumbled, and Blake wrecked me with his mouth.

The festival is gone now—no twinkling lights, no swirling snow, no cheery brass band playing festive tunes to distract me. Just the bare cobblestone walkway and thevery normal, very innocentwooden booth where I lost my grip on reality.

Then, as if the universe itself has teamed up to torment me, my office door flies open without a single knock.

“Okay, this is getting sad.”

Great.Natalie.

“Not now. I'm busy.”

She strides in like she owns the place anyway, closing the door behind her before flopping dramatically into the chair across from my desk. Her sharp green eyes flick across my pristine workspace.

Her grin spreads even further.

“Oh, wearedoing this now,” she says, voice far too amused.

She leans forward, plucking my highlighter out of my hand like I’m a child who shouldn’t be trusted with markers.

“It’s been days, and you’re hiding in here like a hermit crab.”

“I’m working.”

Natalie arches a brow. “Sweetheart, you’re color-coordinating spreadsheets.”

I snatch my highlighter back. “It’s called organization.”

She glances at the open tab on my screen. “And this new system of yours…tracking the Icehawks’ social engagement by which emojis fans use in the comments section?”

I hesitate. “…It’s important data.”

Natalie crosses her arms. “Right. And it has absolutely nothing to do with avoiding a certain six-foot-four, hockey-playing menace who kissed you stupid at the festival?”

I tense. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Natalie snorts. Then, because she is the actual worst, she reaches across the desk, plucks up one of my dark chocolate truffles, and pops it into her mouth like she hasn’t just personally attacked me.

"Hey!"

“Mmmm… this is good chocolate,” she says, chewing thoughtfully. “You’ve been stress-eating these in solitude, haven’t you?”

“I—No.”

She grabs another. “Liar.”

I glare. “Those cost me twenty bucks.”

“And I respect your coping mechanisms, but we need to talk about this. And if you're going to binge eat, I recommend Clara's Eclairs from Summit.”

“There is nothing to talk about. And theydosound amazing.”

“Oh, they are. Light, fluffy, filled with just the right amount of cream. Like eating a cuddle in dessert form.”

I groan. “Stop it.”

Natalie levels me with a suddenly serious look. “Sophia. You’ve been holed up in here for days. You haven’t been down to the rink, you haven’t said a word about yourtotally-not-a-momentwith Blake at the festival, and now you’re drinking a $7 latte like it holds the answers to your personal crises.”

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