Page 60 of The Overtime Kiss

I remind myself:I am disciplined. I am disciplined. I am disciplined.

But when Tyler pushes someone into the boards with that delicious scowl? My discipline is definitely on thin ice.

Before the game ends, I say goodbye to my friends and head to the family suite to gather the kids. I thank Lauren again for helping out. “Please,” she says. “Thank youfor giving me a little extra time with the grandkids.”

“Did you see that last block by your dad?” I ask Luna andParker once the Sea Dogs W flashes on the scoreboard and their winning anthem blasts through the arena.

Parker snorts. “No. I’m not that into hockey.”

My eyes pop. “Blasphemy!”

His brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

Ooh, a chance for me to teach him. “It means you don’t agree with a particular religious belief.”

“But…this isn’t religion,” he says as we make our way out of the suite.

“Hockey is definitely a religion in your home,” I say.

He seems to give that some thought. “Yeah, maybe it is.”

Luna skips a few steps. “Hey, Sabrina, did you know that a Sea Dog is a nickname for a sea lion, which is more like a seal? Not like a dog at all,” she says, then plucks at the logo of a fierce-looking Husky-type dog on her Sea Dogs hoodie.

“Do you think we should let the team know?” I stage whisper.

Luna snickers. “Yes, but I don’t know if seals would be a good team logo.”

Parker scoffs. “Sounds like blasphemy to me,” he says as we reach the elevator that’ll take us to the authorized personnel area.

I spin toward him. “Yes, that is indeed blasphemy.”

A few minutes later, my stomach is flipping more than I want it to when Tyler emerges from the locker room and heads our way.

In his suit.

It should be illegal to look that good. The suit is forest green, the shirt is charcoal, the tie is absent. The top button is undone, and I can’t stop staring at that little patch of skin visible as the man strides toward us in all his towering glory, long legs eating up the concrete floor.

Stop staring. He’s your boss.

With more effort than it should take, I snap my gaze upfrom his throat—dear god, I’m staring at a man’s throat—but switching the view to his handsome face doesn’t help my cause. Because…that beard…those lips…his eyes.

And most of all, the way he smiles at his kids, warm and welcoming. “Hey, kiddos,” he says and holds out his arms.

Luna and Parker run, and as if they weigh nothing, he hoists them both up, one on each side. My throat tightens with unexpected emotion—a poignancy I didn’t anticipate as he says, “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, even though sometimes hockey’s boring,” Parker says.

Tyler’s jaw drops in mock shock. “What did you say?”

Luna laughs. “It’s blasphemy, right?”

I hang back, letting them have their family moment, but Tyler keeps walking, stopping when he reaches me. “Well, as long as you had fun reading books and playing board games, that’s what matters,” he says to them.

And yup, emotions swim up my chest, higher. His kids are so lucky to have not just his support but his love. It’s pure and real. It’s not tied to attainment. It’s simply there…in the air, in his hugs, in his voice. It’s constant—a rudder.

He sets them down, cocks his head, and says, “Does anyone want Mabel’s cookies? I hear the Best Ice Cream Shop in the City is selling them now.”

“Yes!” Parker says.

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