Page 140 of The Pucking Arrangement

“Cut it out,’” I warn, pointing at him.

“He’s so in love,” Nate agrees, shaking his head.

“Fellas.” Finn drapes an arm around Liam like they’re announcing my engagement. “Our boy is done for.”

Liam, at least, has the decency to not look pleased about it. Instead, he scowls, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, well, if he is, he better watch his fucking step.”

The room erupts into fresh laughter.

“And there it is,” Adam says gleefully. “Ladies and gentlemen, the big brother growl.Now you’re getting the full experience,brother-in-law,” he taunts, emphasizing each word. “Karma’s a bitch.”

“Do you hear it?” Nate cups his ear. “Dmitri’s our pissed off grizzly.”

Liam shoots them a glare, then turns it on me. “You better tread carefully, Dima?—”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, or else you’ll end me.”

“No, Sophie will,” Finn corrects. “Liam will just help her bury the body.”

Liam grunts, which is not a no.

A new round of chirps is gearing up when the door slams open so hard the walls shake.

The room immediately shuts up.

Novak’s glare locks on me, the kind of look that once made a rookie piss himself. “Sokolov,” he growls. “What the fuckwas that?”

I sit up straighter. “It was a clean hit, Coach?—”

“I don’t give a shit about the hit!” His voice booms through the room. “I do care about my top fucking defenseman taking himself off the ice forfive goddamn minutesbecause some Muppet ran his mouth!”

The guys collectively wince.

“That temper of yours,” Novak continues, stepping closer, voice sharp as a skate blade, “is a goddamn weapon when you use it right. But tonight, you let that chirping moron get into your head and almost cost us the fucking game.”

I grit my teeth. “I know.”

“Do you?” Novak’s voice drops. “Because I don’t give a fuck if your nanny’s dating the entire first chair of the fucking New York Philharmonic?—”

Adam chokes.

Finn whistles.

Liam winces.

Coach turns to him. “Yeah, you heard me, big brother.” Then Novak turns back to me, jabbing a finger at my chest. “You play for the Defenders. Your only goddamn priority is winning hockey games. You clear?”

“Clear,” I grind out.

Novak holds my glare for a long, tense moment before stepping back.

“Good. Now go ice your fucking knuckles. And next time someone runs their mouth?” He levels me with a look. “Shut them up with your play, not your fists.”

With that, he storms out.

Silence. It doesn’t last long.

“Nanny’s dating the entire first chair of the Philharmonic?” Adam wheezes, nearly falling off his stall.

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