Page 8 of Taming the Grumpy Hockey Player

“You’re getting comfortable, huh?” I mutter.

Lewis doesn’t bother responding, just stretches a little more, like he owns the place.

Before I know it, I’ve picked up the chew toy lying nearby and toss it across the room. Lewis is off the couch in a flash, bounding after it with a kind of joy I don’t quite understand but find myself watching anyway.

I shake my head, but when he trots back, tail wagging, I toss the toy again.

I don’t think about what this means. About what Lucy would say if she saw me like this. About how easy it’s been to let this dog in when I swore I wouldn’t.

Instead, I just lean back against the couch, watching as Lewis drops the toy at my feet, ready for another round.

Chapter 5

Lucy

The Pine Harbor Community Center is alive with color and energy. Bright banners featuring adorable shelter animals flutter near the entrance. Strings of fairy lights loop along the railing, twinkling even in the daylight. Tables covered with cheerful checkered tablecloths are arranged neatly in rows, each boasting everything from homemade baked goods to shelter brochures. The scent of cinnamon rolls from Kate’s table drifts through the air, mingling faintly with the lingering hint of fresh paint.

I stand at the center of the action, clipboard in hand, as volunteers bustle around me. It’s organized chaos—my kind of chaos—but there’s an undercurrent of nerves humming through me. This event is a big deal for the shelter, for the Timberwolves, and, apparently, for Logan Mitchell.

My stomach flutters at the thought, but I shove it aside. "Focus, Lucy," I mutter to myself, scanning my to-do list. This isn’t the time to dwell on my overly complicated feelings about Pine Harbor’s resident broody hockey star.

Kate appears at my side, balancing a tray of cupcakes that somehow match the banners perfectly. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes sparkle with the satisfaction of someone whoseaesthetic vision has come to life. "See? Coordination is an art," she says with a playful wink. Of course, they do—Kate’s aesthetic radar is infallible.

"You’re in full control mode," she says, her tone teasing. "Have you even stopped to breathe today?"

"Breathing’s overrated," I reply with a smirk. "These tables aren’t going to set themselves up."

Kate sets down the cupcakes, brushing an invisible speck of icing from her sleeve. "You’ve got this. Everyone’s buzzing about how great this event is. You should enjoy it a little."

I glance around, taking in the festive atmosphere. Kids are already swarming the craft station, a group of seniors is inspecting the raffle prizes, and the Timberwolves’ logo is proudly displayed on a banner behind the main stage. The small-town spirit is tangible, wrapping around the event like a warm hug.

Still, my gaze keeps drifting toward the entrance, where I know Logan will make his grand appearance any minute now. My nerves twist, half from anticipation and half from the uncertainty of what to expect. Would he bring that same guarded energy, or would I catch another rare glimpse of the man he hides so well?

When he does arrive, it’s not exactly grand…but it’s effective. Logan walks in with Lewis trotting happily beside him, the dog’s leash in one hand and what looks like a bag of dog treats in the other. His face is set in a straight, almost severe expression, making it impossible to tell if he outright hates this campaign or if brooding is just his natural state. And yet, for all his gruffness, Logan’s clearly made an effort—his Timberwolves jacket is clean and crisp, his dark jeans fit perfectly, and his hair is just tousled enough to look effortless.

But it’s the way he interacts with Lewis that catches my attention. The dog barks happily, pulling slightly on the leash togreet a group of kids, and Logan kneels to calm him, his voice low and steady.

"Good boy," he murmurs, scratching behind Lewis’s ears. The kids giggle as Logan hands one of them a treat to give to the dog, and I catch a glimpse of something I don’t expect: Logan smiling.

The sight is disarming, and for a moment, I forget what I’m supposed to be doing. Kate nudges me with her elbow, a knowing grin on her face.

"Earth to Lucy," she says. "You’re staring."

"I am not," I reply quickly, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

Kate’s grin widens. "Sure, you’re not."

The event unfolds beautifully. Logan’s presence draws a steady crowd, and his interactions with Lewis are a hit. At one point, a shy little boy approaches hesitantly, clutching his mom’s hand. Logan kneels to Lewis’s level, handing the boy a treat to give to the dog. “He’s friendly,” Logan says gently, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. The boy’s face lights up as Lewis wags his tail and takes the treat delicately. Logan glances up with a rare smile, the kind that seems to melt his usual stoic demeanor. It’s a small moment, but it draws a collective ‘aww’ from the onlookers and leaves me momentarily breathless. Parents snap photos of their kids petting the dog, and a few teenagers hover nearby, clearly impressed by Logan’s status as a local celebrity.

Logan and I find ourselves sorting through a pile of raffle tickets at the main table. As we both reach for one at the same time, our hands brush, sending a sudden jolt through me. Goosebumps prickle along my arms, and I immediately blame the chill of the AC kicking on at that exact moment. Logan, however, pulls his hand back quickly, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. I barely have time to process what just happened before he clears his throat and mutters, "Seriously," holding up a ticketwith nearly illegible scrawl. "Is this supposed to say Sarah or Sasquatch?"

"Definitely Sasquatch," I reply, biting back a grin. "Maybe it’s a new fundraising demographic we didn’t consider."

Logan’s mouth quirks into a half-smile, and the sight catches me off guard. It’s fleeting, but it’s there—a glimpse of the man behind the brooding exterior. Together, we manage to untangle the ticket mess, our teamwork seamless despite the banter.

Just as we finish, Mayor Collins joins me near the raffle table, his usual charismatic smile in place. "This is quite the turnout," he says. "And I have to say, you and Logan make quite the team."

I laugh nervously, brushing off his comment. "It’s all about the animals."

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