Page 53 of Captain's Claim

“Alright, I take it back. The real danger here isn’t your saliva, it’s death by enthusiastic sports fan.”

“What is happening?” I hiss, ducking as a rogue napkin flutters through the air like a lost pigeon.

Someone, who I can only assume is not a sober person, has climbed onto the bar and is waving his jersey over his head like he’s conducting a symphony of chaos. A flat-screen above the bar replays the final goal behind him, and we all get the privilegeof seeing the moment Blake winks at me and blows that stupid, cocky kiss all of again.

The crowd erupts as if it just happened again.

I die a little inside.

“Welcome to a Ridgeview victory party, babe.” Natalie smooths her hair, acting as if this is just another Thursday night in Iron Ridge. “You’re experiencing pure, unfiltered sports-induced insanity.”

At least none of them are on their phones. Perhaps no one will see the video ever again?

Then, a particularly aggressive chant erupts from a corner booth overflowing with what can only be described as massive, laughing hockey players.Icehawkplayers. Mugs clink. Shoulders shake. Laughter rumbles like a storm rolling through the room.

And then, I see him.

Blake, holding court in the corner booth like some kind of hockey God. His ash-blond hair is still damp from the post-game shower, and his fitted henley stretches across those ridiculous shoulders in a way that should be illegal.

"Oh God," I mutter, watching him throw his head back in laughter at something Logan says. "He's here."

Natalie follows my gaze and smirks. "Of course he's here. Where else would the captain be after a win?"

"Literally anywhere else?"

My stomach sinks, catching sight of Big Mike at the table too. Right beside Blake. Fuck. The interview. The youth program.Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Is it too late to fake food poisoning?”

Natalie arches a brow. “Sweetheart, if you leave now, theywillhunt you down and carry you back in like a human trophy.”

I swallow. “You’re exaggerating.”

A voice booms from across the room.

“THERE SHE IS!”

The entire bar turns.

Suddenly, the world around me erupts as my name rings out, bouncing off wooden beams and rattling endless empty beer mugs that gather on the nearby table.

I freeze, eyes darting toward the source of the call, heart doing a full gymnastics routine inside my chest.

"Eli! Stop that!"

The bar owner is perched on his damn throne-chair, one boot planted on the seat, grinning like he just won the lottery.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” he booms, holding up a shot glass like it’s the Holy Grail. “It’s a Ridgeview tradition to initiate new members of the Icehawks family! And after tonight’s game?” His smirk deepens, clearing amused at the kiss-blowing from his beloved captain. “I think we can all agree Miss Sophia Hart is one of us now!”

The crowd loses their damn minds.

Natalie claps, bouncing on her heels. “Oh, this issomuch better than faking food poisoning.”

A tray of identical, menacing-looking shots appear in every corner of the bar, dark amber liquid swirling like the stuff of nightmares. I catch a whiff and immediately regret every life choice that led me here.

Eli raises his glass. “Captain’s Choice shots for everyone!”

A chant erupts - deep, thunderous, filled with hockey-sized enthusiasm.

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