Page 70 of No Pucks

“When he shows up, he’s being escorted out. I figured you’d want a front-row seat.” Logan’s face lights up, and his joy is intoxicating.

I grab him and kiss his smile, wanting to taste it. “You’re fucking evil.”

“It wasn’t my idea—well, not having him escorted out, but inviting you was,” he says between kissing me.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea if I go?” I stroke my thumbs over his cheeks, looking into his eyes.

“You used to play for them, and you’re my coach. I’m not going to blow you in the owner’s box with my grandfather, brother, and mother there. So I think we’ll be okay.”

I shake my head. “Good. I’d prefer you not.”

“But the bathroom is fair game.”

“Why don’t we wait until we get back here after?”

“No promises.” He snaps his teeth.

I dig through my closet, trying to find something nicer to wear in my pile of unpacked boxes.

“You really should unpack.” Logan casually leans against the doorframe.

“I hate unpacking.” I finally come up with a flannel that’s nicer and in the team colors, so I won’t look odd. I pull it on and start to button it when Logan shoves off the door frame. “What?”

“You can’t go looking like that.”

“What?” Is he serious? “Is there a dress code?”

“No.” He scoffs. “If you wear it, I cannot promise I won’t jump you at some point.”

My lips twitch, and my chest feels a strange warmth. Could this be what happiness feels like? It has been so long, I can’t quite remember. I don’t remember anything feeling this way.

“Promises.” I grab his jaw, dragging his mouth to mine.

“I don’t need to promise. I keep my word.” It might be the sexiest thing he has ever said to me.

His grandfather sent a car, and it feels slightly awkward getting in it together, but Logan assures me it’s fine. We’re taken to a private entrance with direct access to the owner’s box.

“Look at you,” a guy says when we enter. From the look of him, he’s Logan’s younger brother and a spitting image of his father. But on closer inspection, he grins like Logan does, which isn’t like their father at all. “I can’t believe you pulled this off and added a cherry to the top. I’m Evander.” He holds out his hand, and I shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Evander. I’m Anthony.”

“I know who you are, Hawke.”

Their grandfather, Mr. Cadieux, joins us, offering his hand. “Good to see you, Hawke. I was quite happy to see you take over the Gods.” As the owner, I’d always known who he was, but we interacted with him a lot less than our coaching staff. “My grandson told me you’re a great coach.”

My gaze flicks to Logan, and he shrugs.

“It’s good to see you too, sir. Glad to see the team doing so well,” I say, feeling a little weird about the entire situation suddenly but determined to stay cool.

“I’m not mad about it!” He checks his watch. “Make yourself at home. We have a chef and personal bartender who can make you anything you want. They are very good, trust me. We’re expecting the disturbance to be here any minute. Just stand back and let security do their thing.” He winks and is just as charming as I remember him.

“Thanks,” I say, turning my attention to Logan again. “How much does your brother know?” I ask under my breath.

“He was at the bar,” Logan says nonchalantly.

“For fuck’s sake. Why are New York bars rife with youngsters?” I say softly, but apparently, it wasn’t low enough.

“Calm down, old man. The kids will stay off your yard,” Evander says all smug, having obviously heard me.

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