Page 34 of Puck Sweat Love

“Worse,” he says, looking truly miserable as he adds, “She has a family member with the Badgers.” I curse, and he nods.“Yeah, and not just any family member. It’s Remy fucking Lauder. He’s her fucking dad.”

I nearly choke on my beer as I sputter, “Shit. You hooked up with the new head coach’s daughter?”

Stone grimaces. “Yep.”

I let out a soft, low whistle. “That’s...”

“Complicated? Bad form? Career suicide?” Stone supplies. “Yeah, I know.”

Lauder isn’t just any coach. He’s a legend in the league, respected and feared in equal measure, and I’m pretty sure Badger management had to sacrifice a virgin to get him to sign a three-year contract. He gets results, but he’s a militant son of a bitch. The man once benched a star forward for “looking too happy” during practice and allegedly makes rookies cry just by staring at them too long. His idea of a team-building exercise is making his athletes hold plank until at least one person throws up. Players swear his whistle was sent to earth because the devil couldn’t reach them, causes long-term hearing damage, and is pitched specifically to trigger PTSD flashbacks.

Basically, he’s my kind of guy, and I expect we’ll get along fine.

But I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be caught messing around with his daughter.

Or standing too close to his daughter.

Or making eye contact with his daughter as I passed her in the hall, which could happen at any time. She works in the Badger’s administrative office, a job she landed a few months before her dad was hired on to “take the Badgers to new heights,” so it isn’t a nepotism thing. She apparently just loves hockey, too. I’ve heard she even coaches a women’s competitive rec team in her spare time.

“Yeah, you can’t date Remy,” I finally say, shaking my head. “You should just forget you ever met her. She seems cool, andI wish I could tell you to follow your heart or your dick or whatever, but?—”

“I know,” Stone cuts in, reaching for his beer. “Believe me, I know. I’ll just have to avoid eye contact and pretend I’ve developed a case of amnesia if I run into her around the complex.”

I huff. “Oh, you’re going to run into her. I’m surprised you haven’t already. She’s the one who took my prints and ran my background check before I signed my contract.”

Stone sinks lower in his chair. “I had a current background check on file in Seattle before I took the transfer, so they just used that one. But shehasto know I’ve joined the team, right? I seriously doubt she’s been getting everything ready for camp andnotnoticed my name on the roster. But she hasn’t texted or emailed or…anything.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I say gently. “Maybe it means that she understands how complicated this could be for you and plans to keep your connection on the downlow.”

“There is no connection,” Stone says. “It was just a two-night stand. Just a long weekend with a pretty girl. I shouldn’t still bethinkingabout her, let alone dreaming about her.” His jaw clenches. “But I do. All the time.”

I grunt.

He grunts.

I grunt again, and finally, he smiles. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s just a case of wanting what I can’t have. I’ll keep pretending it never happened. Eventually, my subconscious will get the message. And soon, we’ll be busting our asses so hard, we won’t have any energy for dreaming.” He arches a brow. “Speaking of, you feeling okay about juggling camp and a new lady at the same time? I know you’re usually a one-track-mind kind of guy.”

“I am,” I acknowledge. “But I don’t know if that’s really been serving me. It might be time to let that go. Open my mind a little.”

Stone’s eyes flicker with mischief again, signaling the end of the serious portion of our discussion. “Been serving you… Look at you, Cranky Tanky. You’re starting to sound like a yoga guru already.” Mimicking Stephanie’s soothing “yoga” voice with eerie accuracy he adds, “Exhale and release what doesn’t serve. Inhale possibility. Exhale limitations. Namaste.”

I grin. “Not bad. If the star forward thing doesn’t work out, you could teach yoga. Or start one of those podcasts people listen to when they’re trying to go to sleep.”

He groans. “Dude, I love those. How did I sleep before Sleepy Time with Sylvia? Have you listened to that one? Her voice is magic.”

I shake my head. “Nah, I sleep just fine. I’m out the second my head hits the pillow. Especially lately. The yoga really is helping. I’ve been sleeping great, the pain in my shoulder is better…” I shrug. “I mean, I haven’t checked my blood pressure since the doc did, but it feels better. So far, I have zero complaints.”

“Especially about your hot teacher,” he says, wagging his brows again. “Maybe I should try a private lesson, if they’re that helpful.”

“Maybe you should,” I say, refusing to give him the satisfaction of threatening to punch him again. “Steph’s got a gift for knowing what’s wrong with a body and how to fix it.”

“How to fix a body…” Stone hesitates before adding with a bat of his lashes, “And how to fix a Cranky Tanky heart.”

I snort, but I’m laughing as I tell him to go fuck himself.

We head for the door, Stone singing “Cranky Tanky Heart” to the tune of “Achy Breaky Heart” beneath his breath as I roll my eyes.

But after we’ve said our goodbyes, and I’m walking back to where I parked my bike behind the practice rink, I can’t help thinking that maybe he’s right. And maybe I need to trust that that my heart knows what it’s doing.

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