Page 27 of Taming the Grumpy Hockey Player

I weave through the crowd with a clipboard in hand, answering questions, checking in with volunteers, and trying to keep a mental list of everything that still needs attention. My heart swells as I take it all in: the smiling families, the excited dogs, and the players—these tough, towering hockey stars—kneeling down to meet potential adopters with warmth and patience.

"Lucy!" Kate’s voice cuts through the noise, and I spot her waving at me from behind the merchandise table. Her grin is wide, her energy infectious.

"What’s up?" I ask, stepping over to her.

Kate gestures toward the nearly empty racks of shirts and tote bags. "We’re almost sold out. And don’t even get me started on the Lewis mugs. People are obsessed."

I can’t help but smile. "That’s great news."

"It is," she agrees, but her smirk turns mischievous. "And you’re going to tell me it’s not because of a certain grumpy hockey player being a total natural at this?"

I roll my eyes, though my cheeks warm. "It’s the whole campaign, Kate. It’s everyone’s effort."

"Uh-huh," she teases, but thankfully, she lets it drop when someone approaches to buy the last small-sized T-shirt. I’m about to step away when a burst of laughter draws my attention to the center of the room.

Logan is surrounded by a group of kids, his easy grin softening his usually intense demeanor. He crouches to ruffle Lewis’s fur, tossing a treat into the air with a playful flick of his wrist. Lewis leaps up to catch it, his tail wagging furiously as the kids cheer and clap. Logan’s movements are natural, his laughter blending effortlessly with the crowd’s excitement, a side of him I rarely get to see. Logan tosses a treat into the air, and Lewis leaps up to catch it, earning cheers and applause. Logan’s easy smile catches me off guard, as it always does. There’s something about the way it softens his sharp features, making him look boyish and completely unguarded for just a moment, and it stirs something in me that I can’t quite name. He looks completely at ease—a stark contrast to the reserved man I first met. The way he’s grown into this role is remarkable.

As I watch, a young woman steps forward, resting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. "Mr. Mitchell," she says, her voice steady. "We’re interested in adopting Lewis. He seems like such a wonderful dog."

My stomach twists as I see Logan’s polite smile falter for just a moment. He reaches down to scratch Lewis behind the ears,his fingers moving absently through the dog’s fur. "Lewis is a great dog," he says evenly, though his voice has a tightness to it. "He’d be lucky to have a family like yours."

I step in before the conversation can go any further. "Hi there," I say with a warm smile. "Why don’t I walk you through the adoption process at the main table?"

The woman nods graciously, and I guide her and her daughter away, giving Logan some breathing room. When I return, he’s crouched next to Lewis, his hand resting on the dog’s head. The look in his eyes is enough to stop me in my tracks.

"Thanks for that," he mutters without looking up.

"You’re welcome," I reply softly, sitting down on the bench beside him. "Logan, it’s okay to admit you don’t want to let him go."

He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "It’s not that simple, Lucy. I know this campaign is about finding homes for these dogs, but… he’s more than just a dog to me now. He’s family."

I place a hand on his arm, and he finally meets my gaze. "Then keep him," I say simply. "Lewis deserves a home where he’s loved. And it’s clear that’s with you."

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then he nods, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. "You’re right."

As the event winds down, the excitement in the room turns into a warm buzz of satisfaction. Families leave with adoption forms in hand, sponsors chat with volunteers, and the Timberwolves players wrap up their duties with good-natured grins. Mayor Collins takes the stage, his voice booming over the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank each and every one of you for making today such a success. This campaign has broughtout the best in Pine Harbor, and it’s all thanks to the hard work of Cozy Paws and the Timberwolves. Let’s give them a round of applause!"

The room erupts into cheers and clapping, and I feel a swell of pride as I glance around. But the moment isn’t over yet. Mayor Collins turns to Logan, gesturing for him to join him on stage.

Logan hesitates for only a second before stepping forward, Lewis trotting faithfully at his side. His shoulders are squared, but there’s a subtle tension in his movements, as if he’s bracing himself for the attention. The leash tightens briefly in his hand, and he exhales quietly, grounding himself before meeting the crowd’s expectant gazes. The crowd quiets as he takes the microphone, his usually stoic expression softening.

"Uh, thanks, Mayor," he begins, his voice steady but unpolished. "I’m not great at speeches, but I just want to say thank you. To the team, to Cozy Paws, and especially to Lucy." His eyes find mine in the crowd, and the sincerity in his gaze makes my chest tighten. "None of this would’ve been possible without her. Her dedication and passion are what brought this campaign to life."

The applause is deafening, but Logan holds up a hand to quiet the crowd. "And one more thing," he says, his voice softening as he looks down at Lewis, his fingers brushing lightly against the dog’s fur, centering himself before continuing.. "I’ve decided to keep this guy. He’s part of the family now."

The cheers that follow are even louder, and I can’t help the tears that prick at the corners of my eyes. Logan glances at me again, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. It’s a moment I’ll never forget.

As the crowd begins to thin, Logan finds me near the back of the room, where I’m packing up leftover pamphlets. His presence is a steadying force, his voice low and deliberate as he says, "Hey."

"Hey," I reply, looking up at him.

"I need to talk to you about something," he says, his tone serious but not unkind. "Alone."

My heart skips a beat, but I nod. "Okay. Let me just finish up here."

As he walks away, the weight of his words lingers. Whatever he wants to say, I know it’s important. And as I watch him go, Lewis trailing happily at his side, I feel a flicker of something I haven’t felt in years: the possibility that this might just be the beginning of something extraordinary.

---