Page 19 of Taming the Grumpy Hockey Player

The meeting wraps up, and as we’re gathering materials, Lucy glances at me. “You know, for someone who claims to hate this kind of stuff, you’re pretty good at it.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I reply, smirking. “But thanks.”

She grins, and for a moment, the chaos of the day fades. It’s just the two of us, and I can’t help but think about how easy it is to be around her. How much I look forward to these moments.

That night, as I toss a ball for Lewis in the living room, my mind drifts back to the day. The meeting, the park, the way Lucy’s eyes light up when she talks about something she cares about. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the line, she’s become more than just a colleague. More than just the woman running the shelter.

Lewis drops the ball at my feet, looking up at me expectantly. “What do you think, bud?” I ask, scratching his head. “Is this a terrible idea?”

He barks once, tail wagging, and I laugh. “Yeah, I thought so.”

As I settle onto the couch, Lewis curling up beside me, I let the thought linger. Maybe it’s not such a terrible idea after all.

Chapter 13

Lucy

The Pine Harbor Community Center hums with life. Volunteers hustle between stations, arranging tables, checking donation forms, and hanging banners that read: Adopt, Support, Inspire. The warm, sweet scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies mingles with the crisp autumn air drifting through the open doors. The energy buzzes with anticipation and determination, making the room feel alive.

I glance at the checklist in my hand, mentally crossing off items. Everything is running smoothly, yet my nerves buzz like static electricity. This event is more than a fundraiser—it’s a test of Pine Harbor’s support for the campaign and our mission. If we can rally the town tonight, the momentum could carry us through the next stages.

“Lucy, stop fidgeting,” Kate teases, appearing at my side with a tray of coffee cups balanced precariously in her hands. “Everything’s perfect, as usual. You’ve got this.”

“Easy for you to say,” I reply, taking a cup and sipping gratefully. “You’re not the one standing in front of half the town tonight.”

“True,” she says with a wink. “But you’re the queen of Pine Harbor, remember? They already love you.”

I roll my eyes but smile despite myself. Kate always knows how to lighten the mood.

Across the room, Logan leans against a table, casually tossing a ball for Lewis, who gleefully bounds after it. The laughter of nearby kids blends with the cheerful atmosphere, lightening the moment. Logan glances up, his eyes meeting mine briefly, and there’s a steadiness in his gaze that settles some of my nerves. It’s strange—how his presence has shifted from a source of tension to something grounding.

The sound of a microphone crackling brings me back to the moment. Mayor Collins stands on the small stage at the front of the room, commanding attention with his usual charismatic energy.

“Good evening, Pine Harbor,” he begins, his booming voice cutting through the chatter. “We’re here tonight because of two incredible initiatives: supporting our beloved Timberwolves and ensuring that every animal at Cozy Paws finds a loving home. And we have two people to thank for bringing this vision to life.”

The crowd erupts into applause as he gestures toward Logan and me. Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I force myself to smile and wave. Logan, ever composed, nods politely from his spot, though I catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Mayor Collins continues, extolling the virtues of community and collaboration, before inviting me to the stage. My stomach flips as I step forward, the spotlight suddenly too bright and too focused. But as I grip the microphone, I remember why I’m here.

“Thank you, Mayor Collins, and thank you, Pine Harbor,” I begin, scanning the sea of faces. “This campaign is about more than fundraising and adoption; it’s about building a community that cares. Let me share one story that illustrates why this campaign matters so much.”

I pause, letting the room settle before continuing. “Max, one of our longest shelter residents, came to Cozy Paws as astray, underweight and skittish around people. For months, he watched other animals leave with their new families while he stayed behind, overlooked because of his age and timid nature. But one day, Mrs. Harrington visited the shelter. She had recently lost her husband and was looking for companionship. The moment she saw Max, something clicked. She knelt by his kennel, whispering soft words, and Max—usually wary of strangers—inched closer until he rested his head on her hand. That was it. They’ve been inseparable ever since. Mrs. Harrington told me last week that Max has brought joy back into her home, and she can’t imagine life without him.”

I see nods and smiles ripple through the crowd, and when I glance toward Logan, his expression is unreadable but intent. It’s as if he’s absorbing every word, and for a brief moment, I wonder if he’s thinking about his own second chances.

After the address, the room bursts back into motion. Conversations hum, and the energy feels electric. Logan approaches, his hands shoved into his pockets, his broad shoulders cutting a confident silhouette against the bustling crowd. Lewis trots faithfully at his side, his tail wagging as if he’s part of the celebration. Logan’s usual stoicism seems lighter, more approachable, and as he stops in front of me, there’s a calmness in his eyes that draws me in. It’s not just his appearance that captivates me—the way he carries himself, steady and assured, holds an undeniable magnetism.

“Nice speech,” he says, his voice low but sincere.

“Thanks,” I reply, my heartbeat steadying now that the spotlight is off. “You’re not bad at working the crowd yourself.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Working the crowd?”

“You know, throwing the ball for Lewis, charming the kids. It’s practically a PR campaign of its own.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, one that makes my chest feel unreasonably tight. “Just doing my part,” he says, and there’s a warmth in his tone that wasn’t there before.

The evening shifts into a quieter rhythm as people begin to trickle out. Kate corners me near the refreshment table, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

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