Page 4 of Taming the Grumpy Hockey Player

“They’ll ignore you unless you have food. Perfect match, really.”

Despite myself, I chuckle. Mark has a way of cutting through the tension, and for a moment, I let myself relax.

By the time the meeting wraps up, the “Adopt-a-Player” campaign is no longer just an idea. The room feels lighter, the hum of conversation now tinged with excitement and purpose as attendees discuss potential matches and logistics. It’s a budding plan, one that hinges on finalizing details with Lucy and the shelter. As everyone begins to leave, I linger near the back, watching Coach as he finishes a conversation with Mayor Collins and then makes his way toward me. There’s a determined look on his face, the kind that tells me I’m not escaping this meeting without a few pointed words.

“Logan, a word?” Coach’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. He gestures for me to follow him into the quiet corner of the room.

“What’s up?” I ask, crossing my arms as he closes the door behind us.

Coach’s gaze is steady, his tone low but firm. “I want this to work, Logan. And I need you on board—not just halfway. All in. This campaign is about more than just the team or the shelter; it’s about showing people who we are, who you are.”

“I get it,” I reply, but my voice comes out more defensive than I intend.

“Do you?” Coach leans forward slightly. “Look, I know the media hasn’t been kind. I’ve seen the headlines, too. But this is a chance to change that narrative. People love a redemption story,Logan, and I know you have it in you to give them one. But you’re going to have to let them see it.”

His words land heavier than I want to admit, pressing against the stubborn wall I’ve built around myself. For a moment, I just stand there, jaw tight, letting the silence do the talking. Finally, I exhale sharply and mutter, “I’ll try, but don’t expect miracles,” I mutter, a flicker of uncertainty tugging at the edges of my voice. Letting people down isn’t something I’m eager to relive.

“Good,” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “And smooth things over with Lucy. You’ll need her trust if this is going to work.”

As I leave the room, Coach’s words echo in my mind. Trust. Redemption. For the first time, I feel the weight of what’s ahead—and the possibilities it could bring.

“Hey,” Mark says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You coming?”

“In a minute,” I reply. He shrugs and heads out, leaving me alone in the quieting room.

A message notification buzzes on my phone. I pull it out, frowning at the screen. It’s from one of our sponsors, expressing interest in the campaign and suggesting it could boost not only the shelter but also the Timberwolves’ image.

I tuck the phone back into my pocket, my thoughts swirling. The idea of working with Lucy…it’s not exactly comfortable, but maybe that’s the point. Facing her relentless optimism might be exactly what I need to push past my own walls and figure out if there’s more to this than discomfort. Maybe stepping out of my comfort zone is what I need, even if it means facing her relentless optimism head-on.

As I head toward the exit, I can’t help but wonder what’s in store. For the team. For the shelter. For me.

Chapter 3

Lucy

Morning sunlight streams through the windows of Cozy Paws Animal Shelter, casting golden streaks across the linoleum floor and bringing a gentle warmth to the bustling space. The shelter is a blend of organized chaos and comforting charm—rows of neatly labeled kennels line the walls, their occupants wagging tails or curling into cozy naps. The scent of clean hay and faint lavender from the diffuser wafts through the air, masking the occasional whiff of wet fur. In one corner, a playful calico kitten bats at a hanging feather toy, while across the room, a lazy hound stretches luxuriously in its pen.

I stand near the play area, surrounded by cheerful barks and the occasional meow, yet my mind is far from the lively scene. My clipboard—a trusted ally during chaotic adoption events—is clutched against my chest as if it holds answers to the million questions swirling in my head.

The “Adopt-a-Player” campaign. It’s been a day since I got that email, and I still can’t decide if it’s genius or a potential train wreck. What if it’s too much pressure for the shelter staff? Or worse, what if Logan’s gruff demeanor alienates the very community we’re trying to engage? The opportunity for the shelter is huge—greater visibility, increased adoptions, and,possibly, funding for the much-needed expansion we’ve been dreaming about. But partnering with the Timberwolves also means partnering with Logan Mitchell. And that’s where my resolve wavers.

"Lucy?" Emma’s voice breaks through my thoughts, soft but firm. She’s perched on a stool at the reception desk, sorting through paperwork. "You’ve been staring into space for a solid five minutes. Are you okay?"

I shake myself free from my musings, offering her a quick smile. "Yeah, just…thinking."

Her raised eyebrow tells me she’s not buying it. Emma’s always been the quieter, more pragmatic foil to my whirlwind personality, someone who keeps things grounded when my ideas threaten to spiral out of control. Her sharp eye and steady patience have saved more than one adoption event from turning into complete chaos.

"Is it about the Timberwolves thing?" she asks, sliding off the stool and crossing her arms.

"Maybe." I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "It’s a big deal, Emma. This could help so many animals, but it’s also a lot to take on. And…Logan."

Her lips twitch into a knowing smile.

"Logan’s not so bad, you know."

"He’s grumpy," I counter, earning a laugh from her. "And stubborn. And…just so…Logan."

"Sounds like someone’s been thinking about him a lot," she teases, nudging my shoulder as she walks past.

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