Page 1 of Slap Shot Daddies

Prologue

KENZIE

Conversation meldswith the rhythmic bass of the music resonating through Ally’s house.

The air is rich with the warm, inviting scent of something caramelized and laced with alcohol. One of Nick’s cocktail creations, no doubt.

The house is brimming with people, their bodies shifting and mingling through the living room, the bustling kitchen, and spilling out onto the back patio, where a fire pit crackles and pops against the sharp, crisp air of a Minnesota night.

I take a sip of my drink and lean back against the wall, observing the scene.

Ally moves through the throng with an almost ethereal grace. Her laughter rings out, a bright sound that carries above the music, while her hair catches the light perfectly, shimmering like spun gold.

To most people, she appears to be the quintessential hostess, seamlessly transitioning from one conversation to the next. Her hands lightly graze arms in passing, her smiles are warm and welcoming. People are drawn in.

But I see beyond the surface.

There are the subtle touches. The way Brooks’ gaze softens when he watches her, as though he’s committing each of her movements to memory.

The way Nick leans into her space, his grin wide and conspiratorial, as if they share a secret joke.

The way Tyler can’t seem to go more than two minutes without finding a reason to pull her close, anchoring her at his side.

They don’t merely admire her. They revolve around her.

And it’s not just desire; it’s a deep-seated devotion.

I take another sip, the ice clicking against my teeth as I swallow down a pang of something that feels dangerously close to jealousy.

Not because I want to take it from Ally.

It’s just that I don’t think I’ll ever have something like it.

I step onto the back porch, where the cool night air greets me with a brisk embrace, a sharp contrast to the warm, pulsating energy of the party inside.

The comforting scent of burning wood from the fire pit wafts gently around the space.

A small gathering of people is scattered across the porch, their laughter rising softly in the night, forming intimate clusters. Their breath forms misty clouds in the crisp evening air, a testament to the chill that has settled over the scene.

I pull my arms tightly around myself, as if to ward off both the cold and the heavy feeling lodged in my chest.

Why am I like this?

I should be immersing myself in the joy around me, not letting my thoughts spiral over matters that aren't even mine to worry about.

Ally deserves happiness, and if she's found it in abundance, then good for her.

Still, I can't help but feel somewhat out of place, lingering in the shadows while everyone else mingles with ease. I sigh, taking in a deep breath letting the air fill my lungs and clear the fog from my mind.

Just as I begin to convince myself to call it an early night, a deafening roar bursts forth from inside the house, a cacophony of loud whoops and cheers erupting from the living room, intertwined with waves of laughter and the rhythmic clapping that dances through the open patio doors.

My stomach tightens with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. What on earth could be causing such a commotion in there?

Without a second thought, my feet carry me forward. I step back into the warm glow of the house to uncover the source of the excitement that has captured everyone’s attention.

The atmosphere inside the house has transformed dramatically—it's electric, brimming with animated conversation and the rhythmic sound of hands slapping backs in warm greeting.

I navigate through the crowd, tracing the source of the lively uproar until my eyes fall upon a group of guys stationed at the entrance. Their broad shoulders and massive frames form an imposing barrier, filling the doorway with their presence.

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