Page 4 of Bar Down

He was also brilliant, principled, and unexpectedly graceful on the ice—a quality that made him not just a solid defenseman but an increasingly important voice in the team's strategy. When he'd blocked that shot in the final minutes, diving across the ice with perfect timing, she'd held her breath until he got back up.

Not that she'd ever admit that to anyone, least of all herself.

As she reached her sleek silver Audi—the one indulgence she'd allowed herself when she finally secured the PR director position after years of being told she was "too ambitious" or "not quite ready"—Stephanie reminded herself of the cardinal rule she lived by: never lose control of the narrative. Not the team's, and certainly not her own.

Tomorrow was a new day. Another chance to craft the right story for a team on the rise.

As long as the team's mathematically-minded defenseman didn't interfere with her carefully plotted strategy.

And if he did? Well, Stephanie Ellis never backed down from a challenge. Especially one with dark eyes, broad shoulders, and an analytical mind that somehow managed to drive her crazy and impress her all at once.

Chapter Two

Marcus

Marcus's morning routine never varied: 5:30 AM alarm, fifteen minutes of stretching, protein shake, twenty minutes reviewing game footage from the night before, then a five-mile run. The consistency had kept him in the league for three seasons, backed by his personal stats.

This morning, however, his mind kept drifting from the familiar New Haven streets to a pair of bourbon-colored eyes and a scent of perfume he hadn't yet pinned down.

He pushed harder, cranking up his pace until his lungs burned and his legs screamed. Physical pain had always cleared his head better than thinking.

By the time he returned to his apartment—a one-bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the harbor—his watch showed he'd shaved nearly two minutes off his average time. At least something was going right.

His phone buzzed with a team notification as he stepped out of the shower. He checked it immediately, water still dripping down his back.

Emergency team meeting. 9:30 AM. Mandatory attendance.

Marcus frowned. Unexpected meetings threw off pre-game preparation and rarely brought good news. His mind cycled through the possibilities: trades, coaching changes, ownership issues? None made sense given their current place in the standings.

He dressed quickly—dark jeans and a navy button-down that Kane's girlfriend had once told him "worked with his complexion," whatever that meant. Marcus didn't care about fashion, but he'd learned that certain clothing choices kept teammates from making stupid comments, letting him focus on the game.

The traffic suggested he'd hit the facility eleven minutes early. Perfect timing for a pre-meeting coffee.

The team's practice facility café was packed for a morning after a game. Marcus scanned the room, instinctively reading the plays developing off the ice. Kane and Liam huddled in a corner table, locked in serious conversation. Rookies Ethan and the younger players clustered nervously by the windows. Chenny and Mateo bent over Chenny's laptop, probably checking his latest vlog stats.

And there, at the counter waiting for coffee, was Stephanie Ellis.

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