Page 1 of Puck You Very Much

Prologue

Lucy James wanted three things: respect, success…and, most of all, an empty trash can to throw up in.

God, she was nervous! So nervous, her stomach was doing the most ridiculous flips, as if she were an obvious beginner attending an advanced yoga course. She balled her hands into fists to stop them from shaking while taking deep, concentrated breaths, exhaling as softly as possible through her mouth, which was twisted into a smile. She didn’t want the stern-looking woman with short gray hair and red-rimmed glasses to notice that she was on the verge of a panic attack.

Leslie Forth was everything Lucy wanted to be, at some point. She was a PR icon! Thirty years ago, she’d been the first woman in the United States to become the head of PR and marketing for a major sports team—not just some unknown hockey team, but the L.A. Hawks, who graced cereal boxes across the country and were three-time Stanley Cupwinners. Yes, Leslie Forth was a pioneer in a male-dominated world, and Lucy would follow in her footsteps.

After she threw up, that is. And then brushed her teeth thoroughly. Seizing control of sports marketing would probably have to wait until tomorrow. But that was okay. She was young, she had time…and she needed to relax! She had landed her dream job, and they weren’t going to fire her on her first day.

Were they?

Oh jeez, if she kept getting distracted like this, she wouldn’t hear herself getting laid off, anyway.

“…Under no circumstances should you lose your new ID card! Without it, you won’t be able to enter the parking garage or office.”

Lucy forced herself back to the present and cleared her throat. “Of course not,” she replied matter-of-factly, swiping her damp palms over her pencil skirt. “I’ll pay attention to that. And don’t worry, I’m not forgetful.”

“Many new employees say that, but then suddenly their ID card mysteriously goes missing, just so they can get a new ID with a better photo. Like one with their eyes open.” Leslie’s pursed lips clearly betrayed she didn’t understand such superficialities.

“I don’t care what I look like in my photo,” Lucy reassured her immediately.

“Wonderful.” Apparently, that was exactly what her boss wanted to hear, because she bared her teeth in a way that people with poor eyesight might mistake for a smile. “The photo will be the least of your problems, anyway. The hardest part will be dealing with the players.”

Lucy nodded. She had already come to that conclusion.

“To put it bluntly: Most of them don’t particularly enjoy being bossed around, especially not by a woman. But it’s extremely important not to be influenced by them, because if they get the feeling you’re afraid of them or—worse—crushing on them, you might as well pack your bags. Understand?”

“That won't be a problem,” Lucy replied firmly. “I always remain professional and don’t intend to be intimidated by a few ice hockey giants.”

Leslie narrowed her eyes. Under the cold fluorescent lights, they flashed skeptically, as if trying to read from Lucy’s face if she was putting her on.

Yes, Lucy knew that look. She was a measly five feet tall and looked young for her age. Most people didn’t take her seriously at first. When people saw her, they suddenly had the urge to call her ‘sweetie’ or ‘cutie’ and pat her on the head. It was incredibly unnerving, and it meant she always had to work twice as hard as her colleagues. She had to be smarter, more professional, funnier, and more assertive than her peers or her arrogant, chauvinistic coworkers. She was too short and her hips and breasts a bit too large, so she always wore heels to stand taller and prudish blouses, or else nobody took her seriously. It wasn’t fair, but it was how things were. It was just as much a part of the job as having to remain professional and not be intimidated or manipulated.

Yes, she loved hockey, and being able to work closely with the players was part of the reason the butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. But not because she adored them and wanted to jump into bed with them. If she ever became involved with an athlete, she could kiss her career goodbye! No, she was happy to be a part of the team because she respected the hard physical work and discipline of the players. She understood the sacrifices necessary to achieve goals.

“All right,” Leslie said thoughtfully, glancing briefly at the clipboard in her arms and drumming her fingers on it. "Well, your résumé is impressive; I was just wondering…”

“Yes?” she asked cautiously.

“You know what? I’ll throw you straight into the deep end. We’ll just see if you sink or swim.” Satisfied with this decision, Leslie nodded. “What do you think?”

Lucy swallowed the lump in her throat as she nodded back. "Sure." She was struck by how convincingly that word came out of her mouth, now that the butterflies in her stomach had changed into something more aggressive. But she had been waiting to prove herself, right? Now was as good a time as any. “What exactly isthe deep end,if I may ask?”

She expected the worst: She’d be asked to spontaneously lead a press conference, come up with an idea for an advertising campaign, or get a smoothie (not green!) somewhere within half an hour—through L.A.’s afternoon traffic, no less. Impossible things!

But a name, no more, came out of Leslie’s mouth: “Dax Temple.”

Lucy furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “The player? The Hawks’ forward winger?” She groaned inwardly at her stupid question. Leslie was obviously talking about the currently most successful winger in the NHL, and not some new religious retreat!

Leslie nodded sternly and handed her the clipboard. “Yes. I want you to prepare Dax Temple for his press conference in an hour. Here are the things he’s allowed to talk about, and these are the things he should keep to himself.” She tapped the points in question.

“Okay,” Lucy replied slowly. Briefing a player for a press conference didn’t sound too bad. “No problem.”

The corners of the older woman’s mouth twitched as if Lucy had said something funny. “That’s the right attitude. However, to be frank, Dax is a bit…complicated.” She cleared her throat. “He doesn’t like to be told what or what not to do. Also, today is his birthday and it’s always a…difficult day. So, if you can deal with him, I won’t have any concerns about you being a good fit for the organization.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes at her boss.

Dax Temple wascomplicated? What was that supposed to mean? But before she could open her mouth and ask, Leslie stepped back.

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