Page 17 of Puck Yes

I imaginegetting turned onisn’t a good answer.

“Almost ready,” I call, then hustle over to the shelf with the heap of fake fur lumped on it.

Stefan is the playful, outgoing team captain I’ve spoken with several times over the last few years when my brother played here. The handsome Dane has ice-blue eyes, a dusting of stubble, and a panty-dropping smile, and the times I was single I would have loved to be asked on a date with him—but he also has a gorgeous fiancée from his hometown who he gave a sparkling, four-carat diamond to. I might have noticed her ring on social media and in person when I met Annika at last year’s Christmas party. She’s basically perfect—she speaks three languages, happens to be a brilliant young climatologist for the world’s leading think tank studying climate change, and is legit a nice person. I can’t even hate her. I just like her.

“Just trying on the costume,” I say. Like I was supposed to be doing ten minutes ago. But I’m trying it on with Hayes in the same room. That looks bad. “Over my clothes,” I add quickly.

There’s a pause, then a clearing of a throat from the other side of the door. “Well, it sounds like more fun is being had in the back of the cabin than the cockpit.”

Hayes dips his face, laughing silently into his hand, and I realize my faux pas. “Of course I’m trying it on over my clothes. That’s how you wear it.”

No wonder Xander needed a girlfriend upgrade.

“I’m sure there are many ways to wear a costume,” Stefan calls back, and he sounds…amused.

Great, I’m embarrassing myself in front of the new guy and the team captain.Real smooth, Ivy.

Hayes watches me, seeming to catalogue my every move as I wiggle into this purple furball that’s supposed to be anAbut resembles more of an ink splotch. Once I shove my arms into the costume, I tug it up to my neck, then zip it. With Blob on—though not the head—I spin around and hold out my arms. “How do I look?”

His smile is slow and sexy. “Somehow even hotter.”

The weird thing is I believe him.

But since I don’t need to parade around the arena in a costume, I take it off, then head to the door with the costume under my arm, and myjust a friendly neighbor who’s also a wedding dateby my side.

When I open the door, Stefan’s shooting a casual smile my way as he runs his long fingers through his bedroom-style hair like I bet Annika did mere hours ago. His sandy-brown hair has golden streaks—like he somehow, incongruously, plays hockey in the sun—and it always makes him look freshly fucked.

It’s a good look.

The corner of his lips hook up in a grin.

He’s wearing a Henley.

7

MY LIFE MOTTO

Stefan

Since I’m a lucky guy in general, I figured I might be fortunate enough to bump into Ivy some morning when she was walking that little dog around the neighborhood, the one I saw on her social when I did my Ivy recon last night. Or I guessed that I might run into her in the building when I popped by to see Hayes.

Sure, Icouldhave DM’d her. But why DM when I’m great in person?

But then look what karma served up this afternoon—I get to work with her. I swear, fate loves me. Possibly, there are HR guidelines about asking out someone you work with. I’m not concerned though. I’ll deal with thoseafter.

Something about Ivy hooked me a few months ago when I ran into her at the Hockey Hotties calendar fundraiser in the park. We chatted for a while about Denmark, and she peppered me with questions about the country I’m from. She was especially curious why I didn’t have an accent. Well, when your diplomat parents move to the States when you’re young, you tend to lose it, I told her. They’ve since returned to Copenhagen, and so have my brothers and sisters. I didn’t tell Ivy I miss them terribly.

Instead, I entertained her with stories of the pranks my friends and I got into on the houseboats there once upon a time, then listened as she told me all the places she wanted to travel to in the world. Ivy was easy to talk to, fast, and clever with her mouth, and witty girls get me every time. It didn’t hurt that she had a certain mischievous look in her midnight-blue eyes the whole time we chatted. What can I say? I like mischief. Even though she’s Ryker’s sister, I still looked her up that night after the event, since I was single for the first time in years. But I learned she was dating some douche named The Dapper Man. I mean, who else would call himself that but a twat?

And now she’s not dating him, and she’s not a teammate’s sister.

The runway is all clear.

With flushed cheeks—perhaps from changing into that costume quickly—she’s standing next to Hayes, adjusting Blob under her arm. I flash her a smile. “I don’t get a preview of the costume too?”

“You’ll have to wait till I hit the ice,” she says and sticks out her free hand, adopting a more business-like persona. “It’s good to see you again, Stefan.”

This is how we’re doing it? All professional? Fine, fine. It’s still contact and that works for me. I take her offered hand and shake. Her skin is soft, and her palm feels good in mine, but as much as I’d love to read into a handshake, I don’t. I believe in winning women over with the total package of me.

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