Page 70 of Coach's Temptation

I stand frozen in the doorway of the hotel's professional kitchen, taking in the chaos before me. My championship-caliber hockey team, the men I've trained to be elite athletes, are wearing fucking aprons and covered in what appears to be every baking ingredient known to man.

Connor's got flour in his playoff beard. Logan's attempting to pipe something that looks more like abstract art than frosting. And Ryder—Jesus Christ—has managed to get icing not just on his apron but somehow in his hair.

At the center of this disaster zone stand Lucy and Natalie, directing traffic like they're running some kind of pastry boot camp.

Natalie's got a smudge of chocolate on her cheek, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, looking way too pleased with herself.

I cross my arms, my scowl deepening. "What. The hell. Is this."

Natalie looks up, those green eyes sparkling with mischief. "A team-building exercise, Coach. You should join in."

Ryder chooses that moment to drop an entire bag of flour on the floor, creating a white cloud that engulfs half the team. They cough and laugh, looking like a bunch of kids playing in the snow.

"Team building is done in the gym. Or on the ice. Not in a goddamn bakery."

Natalie just grins, and oh, fuck. I hate when she does that. Because I already know where this is going.

"Get in here, Coach. Stop that grumbling and lighten up."

"No."

She's already moving toward me, grabbing my arm and pulling me forward. "Yes."

I let out a long-suffering sigh as she drags me into the flour-dusted chaos. "This is a mistake."

Natalie beams up at me, eyes dancing with mischief as she shoves a mixing bowl into my hands. “It’s only a mistake if you suck at baking.”

I grip the bowl, trying to maintain some semblance of control as Natalie circles behind me. Her fingers brush against my waist, sending electricity through my body as she ties the strings of an apron at my waist.

"Arms up," she commands, and like an idiot, I comply.

She presses against my back, reaching around to secure the neck strap. Her vanilla scent mingles with the sugar and butter wafting from the ovens. I inhale deeply, not sure which is more intoxicating - her or the cookies.

"There." Her hands linger at my sides, smoothing down the apron. "Perfect fit."

I glance down at the fabric stretched across my chest. In flowing script, it reads 'Kiss the Cook' with little hearts dotting the i's - exactly like the ones in her injury reports.

"You did this on purpose." I turn to face her, bowl still clutched in my hands. "This whole thing is a set up."

She blinks up at me, those damn lashes making my knees weak. "I have no idea what you mean."

But the slight quirk of her lips gives her away. She knew exactly what she was doing, getting me down here, wrapping me in this ridiculous apron, pressing herself against me whereanyone could notice the subtle, yet completelyintentionaltouches.

My grip tightens on the bowl. God help me, but I want to kiss that smirk right off her face.

I stare at the sugar cookies laid out before me, wondering how the hell I ended up here. Years of coaching, and somehow I'm decorating cookies with a team of misfits.

"Mine's gonna be the worst cookie in history." Connor grabs fistfuls of sprinkles, dumping them onto his creation with maniacal glee.

"Dude." Ryder squints at his own cookie. "Is it just me or does this look like a—"

"Hey! Keep it PG, rookie." I grab the piping bag, surprised by how natural it feels in my hands. Years of drawing up plays on a whiteboard translate oddly well to frosting work.

My cookie takes shape - clean lines, perfect spacing, balanced color distribution. I step back, horrified at my hidden talent.

"You're a natural, Coach." Natalie sidles up next to me, her eyes sparkling. She hesitates, fingers playing with her apron strings. "Actually, speaking of natural talents... I have been meaning to ask you about something."

I lean in close, keeping my voice low. "If this is about your natural talent with your hands from the other night, I'd be happy to provide a performance review."

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