Page 81 of The Huckleberry Bookshop

Mullens, still in his skates, towered over his quiet teammates as he made his way past discarded gear to Athena’s side.

In his hockey shorts, shoulder and chest pads, he took her stack of recipes.

A chorus of hoots rose in the room as the men waited to see what he’d do with them. Even Athena tensed, the muscles of her neck standing out.

Mullens walked to the room’s outer ring, where the lockers and benches were situated. He turned the papers around to read the recipe’s name.

“This is a good one.” He handed it to a rookie, who crumpled it like Mullens had with the pancake recipe that fateful first day. Mullens cuffed the man upside the head. “Don’t be a jerk like me. Show some respect.”

He cut a quick glance at Athena and raised his brows, waving the bundle of papers. “Any pro tips for us lugs?”

She blinked, shaking her way out of her stunned silence. “It’s a fairly easy recipe. If you have questions, you know where to find me.” She turned as if planning to leave, then faced the room again. “Oh, and there are various dietary modifications listed at the bottom for those who need them.”

“Hey, Athena?” Mullens called.

She slowly faced him, her expression one of extreme wariness.

“I want to apologize. I know I haven’t shown you anywhere near a proper amount of respect in the past. I was a jerk. No excuses. And I’m sorry. I’m going to do better.”

She inhaled, her chest expanding, the tension lines in her face smoothing like a reversal of a water drop causing ripples.

Mullens turned back to his task of handing out recipes. “I know y’all probably won’t believe me, but I’ve tried every single one of her recipes from that cookbook she gave us when she joined the team.”

“Tried ripping them out of the book, you mean?” Landon muttered, looking at the sheet he’d been given.

“Nope. Cooked them all. Athena knows what she’s doing, and in case you haven’t figured it out, I’m a giant, disrespectful doofus who she should’ve taken out back and shot on day one.”

“Giant old doofus,” Leo chirped. The guy was in his late twenties, and not that much younger than the men on the team he called old.

“Yeah, I’m old. Old enough to not act so stupid when trying to catch a woman’s attention.”

“Dude, you have no game,” Dylan said, shaking his head.

“Like you’re one to talk. Doesn’t Jenny hate you?” Mullens fired back.

Dylan smirked and lifted his brows, making Mullens wonder if the hate-hate relationship he’d heard about around Sweetheart Creek was actually a pack of lies.

“I hope you’ll make him grovel for a very long time,” Maverick told Athena as he reached for his copy of the recipe.

Mullens made him tug it from his grip, grumbling, “Very funny.”

Maverick grinned. “Just trying to be helpful.”

“Give her one of your cars, Mullens,” Leo suggested. “Then she’ll know you’re serious about your groveling.”

“Women like new cars and trucks,” Landon commented, perking up.

“Mullens did let me borrow his Corvette,” Athena said, her tone playful.

Mullens. She’d never once called him that. But instead of it feeling like she was putting distance between them, making the interaction impersonal, it felt the opposite. Like he was accepted. All parts of him. From his horrible playboy persona to the guy who was still healing his childhood wounds. From the man who’d disrespected her in front of the team to the one now trying to make amends.

Accepted and forgiven.

He’d never experienced such an overwhelming, surging swell of love.

“Oh-ho!” Dylan crowed. “Mullens has it bad! Look at him!”

He smiled and shook his head. He didn’t particularly enjoy being ganged up on by the guys, but if it brought Athena into the team’s fold they could tease him for the rest of his life. He might even give them some fodder to keep it going.

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