Page 57 of Match Penalty

Hunter looks up from taping his stick. "What kind of mission?"

"The kind where we help Cammy with auction merchandise instead of making her haul forty boxes down here."

"I'm in," Aleksi says immediately, jumping up. "Anything to avoid Scottie's protein shake lecture."

"Hey!" Scottie protests. "The importance of proper post-workout nutrition—"

"Save it for the rookies," Wolf cuts in, standing. "She can't carry all of those down here. Let’s go."

I see Seven head my way, too. “Coach, can you make a Serendipity's run?” His eyebrow furrows until I tell him why, and then he heads in the opposite direction as the rest of us.

Within minutes, I've got ten guys following me to the elevators. When we arrive, Cammy's exactly where I left her, though she's managed to create some semblance of order among the chaos.

Her eyes widen when she sees us all file in, and something in my chest tightens at the way her eyes sparkle with surprise. "What is this?"

"Your cavalry," I announce, starting to direct traffic. "Hunter, Wolf—grab those boxes by the window. Aleksi, start setting up stations in the conference room. Scottie, don't even think about bringing that protein shake in here."

To my relief, all ten guys jump into action, organizing all of the boxes for signing. I head to Cammy's desk, finding a stack of markers in her top drawer. Our fingers brush as I hand her one, and the contact sends electricity shooting up my arm. Her breath catches, and I know she felt it too.

"You didn't have to do this," she says softly.

"I wanted to." I catch her gaze, willing her to understand everything I can't say. "Besides, it's the least I can do after—"

"Yo, JP!" Aleksi calls from the conference room. "Where do you want the jerseys?"

The moment breaks, but something in Cammy's expression has softened.

I spend the next hour coordinating the most efficient signing operation the Hawkeyes have ever seen. The guys set up an assembly line, passing items down the conference table while trading chirps and stories.

"Remember to make them legible," Cammy reminds everyone. "We need people to actually know whose signature they're bidding on."

"Unlike Ziggy's chicken scratch," Hunter teases.

"Hey, my signature is artistic," Wolf defends.

"Yeah, if by artistic you mean that it looks like a drunk spider fell in ink,” Trey adds.

Cammy moves between stations, checking items off her list and occasionally catching my eye with a smile that makes my heart stutter. At one point, she reaches for a box on a high shelf, and I'm behind her before I can think better of it.

"Let me," I say, my chest brushing her back as I grab the box. She freezes, and for a moment, we're pressed together, her warmth seeping into me.

"Thanks," she whispers, turning slightly. We're so close, I can see the flutter of her pulse at her neck.

Seven appears in the doorway then, coffee in hand. He takes in the scene—his daughter's flushed cheeks, my proximity, the organized chaos of players signing merchandise.

But instead of the scowl I expect, he just walks over to Cammy.

"Here," he says, handing her the cup. "JP mentioned you could use this."

He hands it to her and then gives her a kiss on the head. “I have to go to a playdate with Milo, but I’m proud of you and everything you're doing to help these kids and the foundation. Don't work too hard today, okay?”

As soon as Seven leaves, her eyes shift between the coffee and me, surprise evident on her face. "You asked my dad to get me coffee?"

I shrug, trying to play it cool despite the victory I feel at Seven's small gesture of... well, not approval exactly, but something. "We're best friends now. Didn't you see that smile he just gave me?"

"Looked more like he was hoping that if he stared long enough, that you’d combust into flames," she says, but she's fighting a grin.

"That's just how he shows affection." I pull out her chair. "Sit. Relax. We've got this under control."

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