Page 20 of Taming the Grumpy Hockey Player

“So,” she says, drawing out the word. “Logan was definitely looking at you like you hung the moon during your speech.”

“Stop,” I groan, but the blush creeping up my neck gives me away.

“I’m just saying,” she continues, undeterred. “The chemistry is there. Everyone sees it.”

“Everyone?”

“Okay, maybe just me and a few people standing nearby,” she admits with a grin. “But it’s undeniable.”

Before I can respond, Emma joins us, her expression more serious. “Lucy, you handled tonight beautifully. And Logan…” She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. “He’s not as guarded as he used to be. I think a lot of that is because of you.”

Her words settle over me, heavy with meaning. It’s one thing to hear teasing from Kate, but Emma’s observation feels different. It feels real.

The celebration spills out into the Town Square, where strings of lights cast a soft glow over the cobblestone streets. The faint sound of a violinist busking in the corner adds a charming melody to the laughter and clinking of glasses. The autumn air is crisp, tinged with the earthy scent of fallen leaves. Logan and I find a quiet corner near the fountain, the din of laughter and conversation fading into the background.

“Do you ever stop saving the world?” Logan asks, his tone light but curious.

“Not really,” I admit with a laugh. “There’s always something to do.”

“You’re good at it, you know. Bringing people together,” he says, his voice softening.

The compliment catches me off guard, and I glance at him, searching for a hint of sarcasm. But his expression is open, earnest.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice quieter now. “That means a lot.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence feels charged, like the moment before a storm. Then Logan leans closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“Lucy,” he begins, his voice rough around the edges, “I?—”

The words hang in the air, unfinished, as his gaze dips briefly to my lips. My breath catches, the world narrowing to the space between us. He’s so close, I can see the flecks of green in his hazel eyes, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. My heart races, each beat louder than the sounds of the celebration fading around us. There’s something unspoken in the way he looks at me—a quiet intensity that makes my heart flutter and my breath hitch.

Then, without warning, he leans in. When his lips meet mine, it’s soft and searching at first, as though he’s testing if this moment is real. My skin warms, and the tension that’s been building between us for weeks dissolves in an instant. But it’s not tentative for long. The kiss deepens, a spark igniting into warmth that spreads between us. His hand slides gently to the back of my neck, anchoring me as everything else fades away. I feel his steady presence, his warmth, and it’s as though the world has shifted beneath my feet.

When we finally pull apart, the charged silence lingers, the world tilting on a new axis. My skin tingles where his hand brushed my neck, and my heart races as though trying to catch up with the reality of what just happened. For a moment, neither of us speaks, the words tangled in the unspoken emotionsbetween us. I’m breathless, my cheeks flushed. Logan’s eyes search mine, his expression a mix of vulnerability and certainty.

“I guess we make a pretty good team,” he says, his voice low and rough around the edges, a hint of a faint curve lifting the corner of his mouth.

I laugh softly, my heart full and unsteady all at once. “Maybe we do.”

Later, as I sit on my porch with a cup of tea, the events of the evening replay in my mind. The speech, the laughter, the kiss… all of it feels surreal, like a dream I don’t want to wake from. The memory of Logan’s hand brushing my cheek, the warmth of his lips, lingers with a vividness that sends a shiver down my spine. The way his steady presence grounded me, offering a quiet reassurance, even in that fleeting moment, leaves me feeling both exhilarated and unsteady.

But more than the kiss, it’s the way he looked at me—as if I mattered in ways I never expected—that keeps playing in my mind. The vulnerability in his eyes, the quiet intensity, it’s all etched into my thoughts like an imprint I can’t shake. My heart feels lighter, fuller, and yet there’s a twinge of nervous energy coursing through me, a feeling of standing at the edge of something vast and unknowable.

For the first time in a long while, I let myself imagine a future not just for the shelter or the campaign, but for us. It’s not without its uncertainties, but the thought feels impossibly bright, like a light breaking through the fog. It’s a fragile hope, but it’s there, blooming gently in the quiet night. And it’s beautiful.

Chapter 14

Logan

Sunlight filters through the blinds, spilling golden streaks across the room. For a moment, everything feels still—peaceful even. Lewis is sprawled out at the foot of the bed, snoring softly, his paws twitching like he’s chasing something in his dreams. It’s such a Lewis thing—throwing himself into even his dreams with boundless enthusiasm. Watching him, I feel a quiet gratitude for the uncomplicated joy he’s brought into my life. It’s the kind of calm I’ve come to appreciate, the kind that makes the noise in my head feel a little quieter.

But then, the memory of the kiss creeps in.

It’s been replaying in my mind ever since it happened. The way Lucy looked at me—like I wasn’t the guy everyone whispered about. Her touch, warm and unflinching. The way her laughter seemed to melt into the moment, as if it belonged there. It’s all stuck on a loop. And as much as I want to stay in that memory, reality pulls me back, sharper and heavier.

The campaign. The team. Jess.

Rolling out of bed, I rub my face and try to push the thoughts aside. Lewis stretches with a dramatic yawn, his tail thumping against the mattress before he hops down to follow me into thekitchen. His unshakable enthusiasm is infectious, even when I’m not in the mood for it.

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