Page 2 of Slapshot Kiss

My stomach does an embarrassing little flip.

I turn around so quickly Nadia laughs. "Oh, babe. You have it so bad."

"I don’t have anything," I retort, and keep walking.

The problem with Wyatt Larkin is that he's exactly the kind of man I should know better than to want.

I've spent most of my life around professional hockey players.

My father has coached them for years, which means I've seen enough hotel lobbies, team parties, postgame celebrations, and women waiting outside arenas to understand the ecosystem.

Hockey players are fun. They're charming. They're very good at making women feel like the only person in the room right up until someone else walks into it.

And Wyatt?

Wyatt is twenty-four, gorgeous, cocky, and seems physically incapable of being within ten feet of a woman without flirting with her.

He's also one of my father's players.

Being Coach Brennan's daughter comes with one very simple rule, even if Dad has never actually sat me down and said it out loud.

The team is off-limits.

Which has never been a problem before.

Until Wyatt.

"I need food," I announce.

Nadia hooks her arm through mine. "Come on. We’ll get you some comfort food. It’ll help that nervous system of yours calm down."

We stop at a truck called Melt, because I can smell grilled cheese from twenty feet away and there are some things in life worth standing in line for.

By the time we have our sandwiches, Nadia has thankfully dropped the subject of Wyatt.

We find a spot at the end of a bench and I bite into mine while the carnival moves around us in a blur of music, lights, and screaming children.

The cheese pulls in a perfect string.