Page 2 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

My cheeks heat even though we’re in an ice rink.

“Go,” she says. “I can’t get fired on my first day.” She gently pushes against my chest, a silent request to let her go. I back up a step, but my wolf is howling in my head in protest. My unicorn is more genteel in his reaction, but he’s disappointed too.

“Fired?” I ask.

“Meet my new assistant, Randi Quinn,” Coach calls out. “She is here to work. You—”He narrows his eyes at me.“—are to let her do her job. No flirting.”

Miranda’s face turns pink, the color rising from her neck and into her cheeks, and she lowers her eyes. I respect Coach, but I want to punch him for embarrassing her.

“I take it you two know each other?” Coach asks.

Miranda nods. “We grew up together.”

“You’re Irish, and he’s from Scotland. What’s up?” Carter glares, his gaze snapping from me to Miranda and back again.

“Long story. I’ll tell you later,” Miranda says.

I grab my helmet and turn to go back on the ice.

“Your number is eighty?” Miranda asks with a laugh.

Buckling my chin strap before snagging my stick from where I left it leaning against the boards, I nod. “Aye, I told you I’d pick it if I ever played. It’s been my number on every team I’ve been on.”

I feel her eyes on me as I skate back to my spot to run the drill again. It’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to turn my head and look at her. I can’t help it, I’m weak. A quick glance shows me Miranda is back behind the protection of the glass. Good. Nothing can happen to my Miranda now that she’s back in my life.

Carter skates up to me and taps my shin with the blade of his stick.

“Dude. I had no idea you and Randi knew each other. She’s my best friend from college and arrived from New Zealand today. She is going to be in the spare room. She has nowhere else to go. Are you good with that?”

I can’t stop the grin splitting my face. “Better than good. You can be my best man at our wedding.”

Coach blows his whistle twice, never a good sign.

“You want to make the PHL All-Star Game, Mac, you’re gonna have to stay focused. You too, Carter.”

Coach’s words light a fire under me. Now with Miranda here, I can see everything I want for my future, and the All-Star Game, along with the prize money offers, will help me get it.

2

MIRANDA

Liam jerks his head toward the tunnel. I assume it’s a signal to get the hell out of his practice and stop being a distraction to his players. Daphne, the team’s social media manager and my friend, must interpret it the same way because she stands.

“Let me give you the tour of the rest of the place and get you settled in your office. Liam will want to talk to you after practice.”

As I follow Daphne to the tunnel taking us out of the practice rink, I look back to the ice. Declan is bent over with his stick on the ice, ready to start the next play. Even his helmet and cage can’t hide his strong jawline or the tendrils of black hair escaping the edge of his helmet. Wearing his pads, he’s gigantic, but I know under them he is muscular with broad shoulders and strong arms that give the best hugs. The few times we’ve cuddled together when visiting I got to enjoy being near all his muscles. He wasn’t playing hockey then. I bet there are more, larger muscles now. I shouldn’t think about my best friend’s older brother like that, but I do. Like always, our connection is strong because he lifts his beautiful blue eyes to mine, and a jolt of electricity shoots through me.

We leave the practice rink and Daphne gives me a tour of the locker and training rooms before ending up in my office. It’s off the locker room and next to Liam’s office. The space is nice with a chair and desk, a couple of armchairs, and a couch I’m longing to take a nap on. I don’t sleep when I travel. I can’t let myself relax enough to be vulnerable and sleep on a plane. I cheated and did my trip in two segments. First, I flew from Auckland to Los Angeles yesterday. I got a room at an airport hotel for Christmas Day and tried to nap for a few hours before going back to the airport to catch an overnight flight from L.A. I arrived in Philadelphia early this morning and took a hired car to the rink here in Atlantic City. I can’t wait to get to my room at Trevor’s and crash. If I can get a solid twelve hours of sleep, I’ll be okay.

I take the chair behind my desk and before Daphne’s ass can hit the couch, two heads pop through the door, grinning. Kendall is my best friend and roommate from college, and Mallory Carter is Coach Liam Morgan’s fiancée and Trevor Carter’s older sister. I don’t know her very well but it’s nice to see another friendly face. They bounce inside and sit on either side of Daphne.

“So,” Kendall says. “You and Mac?”

“Mac?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Declan Mackenzie. You know damn good and well who I’m talking about. I saw everything on the ice this morning. Spill the tea.”

“Ooh, yeah, tea sounds good. Daph, where can I get a cuppa?” I rise from my chair. I don’t want to discuss me and Declan. Not that there is a me and Declan.

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