Page 5 of Taming the Grumpy Hockey Player

I roll my eyes, though a blush creeps up my neck. Before I can retort, the familiar jingle of the front door opening grabs my attention. Coach Turner strides in, his presence as commanding as ever. He’s dressed in his usual Timberwolves polo, clipboard in hand, looking every bit the organized leader of a professional team.

"Lucy," he greets with a nod. "Thanks for agreeing to meet on such short notice."

"Of course," I reply, stepping forward. "I’m curious to hear more about this campaign."

We settle into the shelter’s small conference room, the walls lined with photos of past adoptions. Coach Turner wastes no time diving into the details.

"The idea is simple," he begins. "Each player is paired with a shelter pet. We’ll promote their stories through social media, events, and local press. The goal is to encourage adoptions while fostering a stronger connection between the team and the community."

I nod, scribbling notes even as my mind races. "It’s ambitious," I admit. "But if it works, it could be incredible for both the team and the shelter. Have you spoken to the players about it?"

"Not all of them yet," Coach admits. "But the initial response has been positive. I believe in this idea, Lucy. And I believe in what you’re doing here. This shelter is a cornerstone of Pine Harbor, and I want to help it thrive."

His sincerity is palpable, and I can’t help but feel a swell of hope. Still, one name lingers in my mind.

"And Logan?" I ask carefully, trying to keep my tone neutral, though a flicker of irritation rises unbidden. He’s been a thorn in my side for as long as I can remember—a walking storm cloud who somehow manages to bring a chill into every room he enters. But then there’s that other side of him, the one I’ve caught glimpses of when he thought no one was looking. Moments when his guard drops, like the time I caught him gently calming a skittish puppy at an event, speaking to it in a low, soothing voice. It’s in those brief, unguarded instances that he seems more human than headline. It’s frustrating to admit, but there’s more to Logan Mitchell than I’d like to acknowledge.

Coach’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Logan’s…adjusting to the idea. He’s not as opposed as you might think. Give him time."

I’m not sure what to make of that, but I decide not to press further. Instead, I focus on the logistics, asking questions about timelines, promotional strategies, and the roles each of us would play. By the time our meeting ends, I’ve filled several pages of notes, and my mind feels a little clearer.

Back in the main area of the shelter, I find Kate sprawled on the floor with a pack of puppies climbing all over her. She’s laughing as one particularly bold pup licks her face, her red curls a mess.

"This," she declares, holding up the squirming pup, "is the best therapy money can’t buy."

I can’t help but laugh as I sit beside her, the puppies immediately swarming me. "You’re not wrong," I say, scratching behind the ears of a little brown-and-white fluffball. "But I need more than puppy cuddles right now. I need advice."

Kate’s eyes light up with mischief. "Wait a second, is this about that Timberwolves thing everyone’s been buzzing about? Spill!"

"Yeah." I recount my conversation with Coach Turner, including his subtle hints about Logan. "What do you think?"

Kate doesn’t hesitate. "I think you should do it. This is huge, Lucy. Imagine how many animals could find homes because of this campaign. Plus, it’s a chance to show the town how amazing you are at running this place. You’re basically the shelter’s sunshine-powered engine."

I roll my eyes, but her words tug at something deep inside me. "What about Logan? You know he’ll find a way to make it difficult."

Kate grins, unabashed. "Difficult, maybe. Impossible? No. He might be a grump, but even grumps have their moments. Maybe you’ll even get to see a softer side of him."

I snort. "Logan? Soft? That would be the day."

"I know," I say, my fingers stilling on the puppy’s fur. "But it’s also a lot of work. And what if it doesn’t go well? What if Logan and I can’t make it work?"

"Then you figure it out," Kate says simply. "You’ve handled tougher things before. And who knows? Maybe Logan will surprise you."

I snort. "That would be a first."

Later that evening, I sit at my desk, staring at the notes from my meeting with Coach Turner. The faint hum of the shelter’s heater blends with the lingering scent of lavender, a calming backdrop to the otherwise still night. The details of the campaign swirl in my mind, but it’s Logan’s name that sticks like a thorn. I keep replaying Coach’s words—his assurances that Logan’s not as opposed as I might think. Could it be true? Could Logan Mitchell, professional grouch, actually care about something more than hockey and his reputation? It’s hard to imagine, but there’s a part of me that wonders if his gruff exterior is a shield, hiding something deeper. What if he’s just as unsure of himself as I am of him?

The shelter is quiet now, the animals settled in for the night. It’s my favorite time to work, free from distractions. But tonight, I can’t focus.

I glance at a framed photo on my desk—me and my dad at a Timberwolves game, years ago. He’d been a die-hard fan, and his love for the team had been infectious. I remember how his eyes would light up when he talked about the players, not just as athletes but as people who inspired the community.

"What would you do, Dad?" I whisper. The photo, of course, doesn’t answer, but it does remind me of what’s at stake. Thisisn’t just about me or Logan. It’s about the animals, the shelter, and the community my dad loved so much.

With a deep breath, I pick up my phone and draft an email to Coach Turner.

I’m in.

Chapter 4

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