Page 1 of In My Hockey Era
1
A TOTAL DISASTER
Lucy
Blood doesn’t bother me.Neither does vomit, broken bones, or the ungodly things people manage to get stuck in places that those things shouldneverbe.I’ve been a paramedic long enough that my stomach is made of steel, my hands move before my brain can process the chaos, and I don’t flinch at much.
But this?
This is offensive.
I stare at my coworker Ethan, who has the audacity to lookexcitedas he waves his phone in my face.“Tell me you’ve seen this.”
“I’melbow-deepin someone’s emergency Taco Bell regret, Park,” I deadpan, tossing a pair of used gloves in the biohazard bin.“No, I have not seen whatever you’re trying to show me.”
Ethan grins.“Oh, you’re gonna hate it.”
“Then why would I want to see it?”I toss an annoyed look his way.
“Because you hate things loudly, and it’s fun for me.”
I sigh, and snatch the phone from him as we step outside the hospital doors, the chilly evening air sharp against my flushed skin.Our partner for the night, Decker, is already perched on the bumper of our rig, drinking his fourth energy drink of the shift.If he’s not careful with those things, he might end up as our next cardiac patient.
He jerks his chin at us.“What’s she hating now?”
Ethan’s grin stretches wider.“Just wait.”
I glance down at the screen.The official Instagram of my beloved hometown hockey team, the Dallas Stampede is plastered across it, along with a picture ofhim.Bennett Wilder, center of the team, grinning like he doesn’t have a single thought in his head beyond beer and puck bunnies.
My gut reaction iswarmth, because I’ve spent most of my life loving this team, and Wilder is the kind of player who makes it easy.All heart, ridiculous talent, and that golden retriever energy that has half the league underestimating him—right up until he burns them alive on the ice.
But then I read the caption.
“Hockey Romance Book Club, anyone?Join Bennett Wilder as he dives into the world of romance novels and discusses his thoughts in a special Stampede book club series!”
I blink.Reread it.Look up at Ethan.“Tell me this is a joke.”I mentally search for the date.It’s February, so it can’t be April Fools.
“Oh, it’s real.”
Unchecked rage simmers inside me.“This is the dumbest PR stunt I’ve ever seen.”
Ethan laughs.“There it is.”
Decker leans over, snatching the phone from me.His brows shoot up.“Dang.The Stampede are really pushing this?I don’t get it.”
“Oh, I do.It’s the most moronic thing I’ve seen.A desperate, gimmicky attempt to turn hockey players into thirst traps for fair-weather fans.Trust me, it isn’tjust a book club.” I swipe my phone open, my fingers flying as I dig up the article Ethanclearlymeant to piss me off with.“It’s a personal attack on women’s intelligence.”
“Wait,what?”Ethan’s dark eyebrows push together.
“Trying to get casual fans interested by havingWilderread a romance novel and talk about it on social media.”I look up in disgust.“Do they think women areidiots?That we need some shirtless hockey bro to read us a bedtime story before we understand the sport?”
My pulse rises in anger.
“Hey, don’t knock bedtime stories.”Ethan smirks.“I bet Wilder’s voice is real soothing.”
I chuck my empty water bottle at his head.He dodges it, laughing.
“I’m serious!”I gesture wildly at my screen.“This team has some of the most dedicated female fans in theleague, and instead of talking about how we break down plays, memorize stats, know this game as well as anyone, they pullthiscrap.”
