Page 81 of Coach's Temptation

"Phew. If that's how we make up," she murmurs breathlessly, tracing circles on my shoulder, "I might start fighting with you more often."

"Make up sex, huh?" I catch her wandering hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Careful what you wish for. I can think of about fifteen rules we just broke, and that's not counting the ones about proper workplace conduct."

She smiles, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Then it’s a good thing I never cared much about rules.”

Chapter Twenty

Natalie

The roar of celebration fills the private jet, echoing through the spacious cabin as champagne bottles pop open, spraying arcs of gold into the air.

Laughter and victory chants bounce off the sleek leather seats, and the team, grown men, the best in their field, are acting like kids on Christmas morning.

The Icehawks did it.

Aclean sweep.

I watch as Connor pours a ridiculous amount of champagne into the oversized Stanley Cup replica someone smuggled onto the plane. Blake is perched nearby, his arm draped over the back of the seat, a lazy, satisfied smirk stretched across his face despite the ice pack secured to his shoulder.

I adjust the wrap carefully, making sure it stays snug against his bruised skin. “How’s it feeling?”

Blake exhales, tipping his head back against the headrest. “Like I got hit by a truck, but in agoodway.”

I shake my head, rolling my eyes. “That’s not a thing, Maddox.”

He grins at me, the afterglow of victory making him look ten years younger.

“I don’t know, Doc,” Logan chimes in from across the aisle, raising his champagne glass. “Getting your ass kicked for four straight games and winning? Feels like a damn good truck to me.”

A cheer goes up around the cabin, another bottle popping as Ryder, who's still hyped on adrenaline, launches himself over two rows of seats to tackle Connor.

The plane rocks slightly, but no one cares.

It’s all victory. It’s celebration.

And yet…

My eyes drift across the cabin, to where Hunter stands near the cockpit, silent.

The team captain is half a bottle deep in celebratory champagne, nursing his injuries but still smiling. The rookies are already singing some terrible victory anthem and the assistant coaches are grinning ear to ear.

But Hunter isn’t celebrating.

He’s watching. Calculating. The tension in his broad shoulders is too tight for a man who just got the win of his career.

"Take it easy tonight," I tell Blake, not taking my eyes off Hunter as he chokes on a laugh at the sight of Ryder leading the awful singalong at the front of the plane. "No heavy lifting those champagne bottles."

"Yes, Doc," he grins, giving a mock salute with his good arm. "Thanks for getting me out there tonight. It was amazing to be a part of the clean sweep."

"You did well to sit out those first two periods." I adjust the ice pack, making sure it covers the worst of the swelling. "I thoughtHunter was going to burst a blood vessel when I told him I was only giving you 20 minutes on the ice."

Blake's grin widens. "Worth it though. Did you see their faces when I stormed out for that final period? Vancouver thought they had us."

"That goal was pure magic." I shake my head. "Sophia's gonna be one proud fiancé when we land."

Blake nods gratefully. "Thanks, Nat. Really. We couldn't have done this without you."

My heart swells with pride. It's a simple sentence, but it hits deeply.

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