Page 26 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

Mallory gestures toward the ice with her cocoa cup. “Those two talking to Stone are my nephews,” she says, inclining her head to two dark-haired little boys near the entrance to the rink.

As the kids get ready to take the ice, a little girl with red braids turns and waves wildly. “Hi, Miss Morgan!”

Kendall waves back. “Hi, Rowena!”

Rowena buckles the chin strap on her helmet and skates across the ice to Bedard.

Daphne chuckles. “She has such a crush on him. It’s adorable.”

“It’s a mutual admiration society. He’s a fan of hers, too.” Kendall leans forward to speak to me. “I’m a first-grade teacher, and Rowena is one of my students. Burke volunteers at my school, so all the kids know him.”

“Trevor always has a crowd. He’s so good with kids,” Mallory says.

Miranda nods. “He’s going to have a whole pack.” She turns to Kendall and bounces in her seat with excitement. “I love that my kids will get to grow up with your kids and Trevor’s.”

Kendall huffs out a laugh. “Slow your roll, Randi. I’m not getting remarried anytime soon, and single motherhood isnotin my game plan. And Trevor isn’t even dating anyone!”

Miranda turns a hopeful gaze my way.

I raise my hands like I’m going to ward off her questions, but no such luck.

“Don’t look at me! We’re dance partners, that’s it. I’m not having a pack. I’m not having kids at all.”

My eyes remained fixed on the kids skating. They’re doing a drill where they pass pucks back and forth and then shoot at the goal. I can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. I’m a female wolf shifter. I’m supposed to want a big family. It’s how it’s done.

I’m unnatural.

No one is saying anything. Have I shocked them? Cautiously, I turn my head slightly to gauge Miranda’s reaction. She’s eating a chocolate chip cookie.

“What?” she mumbles while chewing.

I feel Mallory’s touch on my forearm and turn toward her. “It’s okay. I know the pressure female wolf shifters have to have big families, even now. I don’t shift, but I still hear it. My sister doesn’t want kids either. My mother only planned on having two—they were so exhausted with two kids they forgot they had sex after my sister was born, so Mom was shocked to discover she was four months pregnant five months after having my sister. Trevor was an oops. But Mom still thinks we should want five or six kids each. Liam and I only plan to have two. My older brother has two. Trevor will probably be the only one of us with a bunch of kids.”

Well, that keeps Trevor firmly in theonly a flingcategory. No strings, no future, no kids. We’re having fun while we’re together, and then when the show ends, we move on. He may end up with a ton of kids, but he knows they aren’t coming from me.

We drink cocoa, chat about random things, and watch the practice for a while, but the exhaustion from the early morning trip to New York creeps up on me. Stifling a yawn, I snag a cookie to take with me and stand.

“It was lovely chatting with you all, but I need to get back to my room. I’m about to drop, and I need to pack for the two away games this week.”

Not counting the All-Star Game, this will be my first time traveling with the team and working around their game-day schedule. We’ll need to fit rehearsals wherever and whenever possible. We’re not going to have a studio or a theater space. It will be hallways in arenas and hotel rooms. Trevor seems to be the type to be okay with challenging circumstances—hopefully he can adapt.

After everyone says goodbye, I walk down the stands to ice level so I can leave. I’m at the last step when Trevor skates up to the glass and motions me over. We move along to the bench area so we can talk without the glass separating us.

“Thanks for staying,” Trevor says.

Shrugging, I gesture to Miranda with a jerk of my head. “There was spiked cocoa and cookies. Couldn’t miss that.”

If anyone ever asked, I’d insist it was the boozy cocoa making my stomach flutter and not Trevor’s lopsided grin. I’d be lying.

“Are you going back to your room?”

“Yeah, I’m exhausted and need to pack for the road trip.”

“What are you doing for dinner?” he asks.

“Ordering room service, probably. I need to catch up on sleep.”

“Yeah, me too,” he admits.

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