“Holy hot damn!” Ivy’s tongue was thick as she yelled like we were ten feet away instead of standing with her arm looped through mine. “Would you look at this?” She waved her free arm at the packed pool room before us. “It’s like one giant gorgeous man buffet!”

I darted my eyes around, thankful no one noticed my twin sister’s total lack of filter.

“Come on,” she said, tugging me toward the crowded custom bar Gage had in the corner. “I need another drink.”

“Opposed to the three you had at home?” I teased, but she ignored it. I was shocked she’d managed to keep a straight face during Dad’s mortifying introduction a little bit ago on the deck.

Oblivious to her level of drunk, Ivy hip-bumped her way to a secure spot in front of the bartender Gage hired for this house-party.

“I’m still recovering from Europe,” I said, leaning next to her. Seriously, I couldn’t understand how we could be identical and yet completely different. We’d just moved back home after a whirlwind six-month Europe visit. I only remembered a few months thanks to Ivy’s uncanny ability to get free drinks wherever she went.

“Pepper,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We’ve been home for a week. You should totally be ready to party now.” She tapped the wooden bar with her perfectly polished pink fingernails, flashing the guy behind it her best smile. “Can I have two seven and seven’s please?”

“Sure thing,” he said, turning to grab the goods to make the drinks.

“One!” I blurted so loud the dude jolted, nearly dropping the glasses he’d grabbed. I chuckled awkwardly. “She meant one.”

“Come on, Pepper!” Ivy was straight up whining now like I had denied her a turn at the Barbie dream house. Which I’d only ever done once just to irk her. She’d broken my Captain America action figure earlier the same morning.

“Someone has to be the DD,” I said.

“We took an Uber.”

Damn. Thought she was drunk enough to forget.

“What is your problem?” She asked, wrapping her fingers around the glass the guy set before her. “Are you scared of all Dad’s fine-as-hell Sharks?”

I huffed, taking a second to glance around the room.

Wall-to-wall hockey players.

Our dad’s guys.

The Seattle Sharks.

It’s not that they weren’t equally gorgeous and alluring in their own way, but I knew all too well that nine times out of ten, these guys chose hockey over everything else. Ivy and I had played second to hockey in Dad’s life for as long as I could remember. Though, if I was being fair, we wouldn’t have graduated from MIT without all his hard work.

Great. There’s that Pepper Guilt.

“You so need a drink,” Ivy said, then stood a bit taller. “Or a man.” She arched an eyebrow, scanning the room. “Yes! A good romp will do loads better than a drink. How long has it been? A year? Two?”

I lightly smacked her on her shoulder. “Shut up!” I shook my head. I may have been dying for a good kiss—the kind that shot sparks down my spine—or more, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to find that here.

Except from maybe that gorgeous red.

No. I wouldn’t think about his hands on my hips or how my skin had flushed the second he’d touched me.

I had a code—no hockey players.

Ever.

Especially ones who I’d be working with on a day-to-day basis.

For now, I was content to daydream about Thor busting down my bedroom door with his hammer.

“One drink,” I said and waved the guy down. “And you drop the man business.”

“Deal.” Ivy smirked that winning smile that surfaced any time she talked me into doing something I had no interest in. Like the time we went skinny dipping in the ocean when we were sixteen. Or when we’d stolen Dad’s car to catch a U2 concert two cities over. Or a six-month trek across Europe before we accepted adult jobs.

I thanked the guy when he handed me the drink, spinning to lean my back against the bar.

Dad was across the room, several muscled men hovering around him. Music blared but not blasted, allowing for a good background beat to the various conversations happening all at once and successfully covered up the kids screaming delights from the backyard.

If Dad hadn’t personally asked us both to be here, I wouldn’t have even considered crashing a party hosted at one of the Shark’s house. Though, I couldn’t deny that Gage McPherson had taste, and was one I considered a friend, despite it being years since I’d seen him. His house may be the size of a mansion, but it was obviously a home. Somehow, he was one of the rare ones that juggled a family and his super-star career.

Nine out of ten. There is always one.

And there he was.

“Thanks for having us,” I said as Gage walked by with a wiggling toddler on his hip that could’ve been his mini-me.

Well if that wasn’t adorable.

Gage smiled, his blue eyes bright as he shifted the toddler to reach out his free arm. He tucked me into a side hug, then jerked Ivy against his chest. “So glad you two came!” He released her. “It’s been way too long since I’ve seen you two. I swear you were both going through a pigtail phase.” He teased.

I snorted, smacking his chest. “One,” I said, holding up a finger. “You may be old, but you’re not ancient. Yet.” He laughed. “And two,” I continued. “I never went through a pigtail phase. That was all Ivy.”

He flinched, an apologetic smile on his face. He focused harder on our long blonde hair, finally noting the soft pink color that dusted the tips of mine. “Sorry,” he said, then glanced at Ivy. “I can never tell the difference. Especially if your hair isn’t a different color, Pepper.”

Ivy laughed. “I swear that’s the only reason she dyes it!” She took another long sip of her drink. “Because legit no one can figure it out.”

“Sorry,” Gage said again, chuckling.

“No worries,” I said, and reached up to finger a small strand. “Pink,” I pointed it out. Maybe I’d gone too soft on the color. Starker shades flipped through my head as I considered switching it up for the season.

“Nice!” He shifted the boy on his hip. “Shouldn’t it be green though?”

My eyes popped. “Why the hell would it be green?”

“Because you’re a Shark now, right?”

“Shark! Shark!” The little boy squealed.

I laughed. “I keep forgetting.”

Gage arched a brow at me. “First official day is tomorrow. Better start remembering.”

Right. I was the newly hired Shark’s Statistician. Adulthood and all that.

Thanks for the reminder.

“Who is that?” Ivy finally set down her drink to point at a fully muscled dude in a tight black shirt across the room. “He’s not married, is he?” She asked before Gage could answer.

Not with all those Bunnies around.

“That’s Crosby,” Gage said, his gaze protective as he tried to grab Ivy’s attention. “And no, he’s not. But—”

“Oh chill,” Ivy cut him off. “I’m just curious. You don’t have to go all big brother on me.”

He chuckled. “You have quite a few of those big brothers here, Ivy. Be cautious. For the younger players sake.”

Even though it had been a few years since we’d seen him, he still remembered Ivy was the wild card.

“Yes, Dad.” Ivy rolled her eyes.

Gage shuddered. “Never again, Ivy.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve got to feed this thing.” He nuzzled his son. “See you two around. Have fun,” he eyed Ivy. “Not too much, though.”

“Good to see you, Gage,” I said as he flashed me a wink and disappeared with the wiggling boy into the crowd.

“I need an intro,” Ivy said, her eyes locked and loaded on Crosby where he still chatted with a few of the other guys and the bunnies around him.

“Good luck,” I said, sipping the way too strong drink. “Gage didn’t make the offer. That means Warren and Rory sure as hell won’t either.”

“Who said I needed them?” Ivy wetted her lips and rolled her shoulders back. “How do I look?”

“You look gorgeous, as always.”

And it was funny because despite being identical, I always thought Ivy looked prettier than me. Not in a jealous, spiteful way, but in a factual way. She exuded confidence, charm, sex appeal—all the things I didn’t. It’s like we were split into identical opposites in the womb—she got the extrovert genes, and I got the introvert ones. She’d rather be the center of attention even in her sleep where I’d much rather be left alone unless absolutely necessary.

Ivy had hundreds of friends.

I had few.

She loved widely and trusted quickly.

It took much more work to earn my trust.

Maybe I was the skeptic because I was born four seconds earlier than her.

“Wingwoman me?” She asked, drawing me back to the party.

“What?” I blinked. “No! I don’t know him. I haven’t had my first day with the team yet.”

“Well,” Ivy said, pushing out her chest. “Now is good a time as any to meet all the newer players we’ve missed out on in the past few years.”

“I don’t want—”

“Love you, Pepper. You’re the best sister ever!” Ivy cut me off, dragging me across the room before I could blink.

There were times I was grateful that she yanked me out of my shell.

Now was definitely not one of those times.

Crosby was six feet of bulk with black hair and stark brown eyes. He turned the second Ivy stopped beside him as if she had some kind of magnet wrapped around her neck. He spared me a glance, then back to Ivy, and then me again. This kind of look had occurred our entire life—so many times I could see when the twin realization hit.

“Hi,” I offered, awkwardly waving even though only a few feet separated him, me, and Ivy. “I’m Pepper Harris. This is my sister Ivy.”

His eyebrows raised. “Crosby,” he said. “Some introduction earlier on the deck.” He sucked his teeth. “Coach’s daughters,” he uttered the term like a challenge.

“And you’re one of our lead defensemen,” I said. “Now that our titles are out of the way—”

Ivy elbowed me in the ribs, cutting off my sharp retort. I flashed her a subdued glare. She knew I couldn’t stand to be labeled as nothing more than the Coach’s daughter. Or Ivy’s twin sister. Someday I’d come up with my own title—a cool one—like The Peppenator or Pepper Prime.

The thought made me snort, which earned me a mortified look from Ivy. For as drunk as she was she sure could lob the guilt my way.

“I’m going to…be elsewhere,” I said, gesturing behind me and backing up without looking.

Right into something very hard and very big.

“Sorry!” I spun around, met face to face with the big hard thing. A chest, chiseled, broad, and covered in a soft black cotton T. I looked up. And up. Until I locked eyes with the most intense pair of green eyes I’d ever seen in my life.

Oh holy hell.

I hadn’t noticed how green Eric Gentry’s eyes were in the hallway earlier.

Damn. Damn.

Two steps out of one awkward situation and I’d smacked right into another.

A totally, stupidly hot piece of awkward.

He’s a Shark!

Right.

“All good,” he said, grinning down at me with no move to leave. “So, Pepper,” he said my name like a victory.

My lips parted, the words tying on my tongue. No one ever guessed my name first. It was always Ivy, and after that introduction on the deck, from a far distance, he shouldn’t have been able to tell us apart that easily.

He tilted his head, his long red hair tied back in a man bun. “I like it better than Statistician.”

No coach’s daughter jokes? Fuck, this guy was damn near perfect.

“Yes,” I said and cleared my throat when it cracked. “Enjoying the party, Goalie?” I teased to try and shake off the sparks making my heart race.

“You say that like you have something against them,” He said.

I chuckled. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not at all. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the upcoming weeks. Just surprised to see you again so soon. Was there something you wanted in particular?”

That damn smile. It was somewhere between a sexy smirk and a good-ole’-boy grin.

Goalie. Shark. Hockey player.

Right. Oh well. No harm no foul.

“I wanted…” his voice trailed off and his eyes widened slightly like he was rummaging his brain for an excuse. Finally, he shrugged. “It’s about time I made a new friend. Why not with my new Statistician.”

I laughed, the tension in my shoulders loosening from the joke. “A whole roster of guys isn’t enough friends?” I teased.

He scrunched his brow. “Hell no,” he said. “Half of them are out of their mind.”

“And the other half?”

“They’re old and washed up,” he said, jerking a punch into Warren Kinley’s shoulder as he walked past. “Way to be late, Kinley.”

“Who you calling old?” Warren growled, but there was as much of a smile on his lips as Warren ever had. “At least I can buy a drink, youngen.” Warren laughed and then his eyes bulged when they fell on me.

One second I stood on my own two feet, the next I was crushed against the huge beast’s chest. “When the hell did you get back in town?” He set me down.

“Last week,” I said, smiling. I glanced over my shoulder to see if I could wave Ivy over, but she was incredibly busy putting on the flirt game with Crosby. Lost cause. “How have you been?”

“Fantastic,” he said. And that was that. Warren never was one to overly share.

“I’m so glad to hear it.”

“I’m so glad to see you…” his voice trailed off as he leaned down, eyes scanning the small pieces of pink hair that fell over my shoulders. “Pepper,” he sighed. “Fuck, why do you have to make it so hard to figure out?”

I chuckled. “Wouldn’t be fun any other way.”

Though Eric hadn’t struggled…

“So glad you’re an official Shark now,” Warren said, effectively cutting off my ridiculous thoughts. He gave me another bone crushing hug. “I’ve got to go check on the wife. She’s up to her elbows in food.”

I furrowed my brow, totally not following that line but shrugging anyway.

“It’s not that hard,” Eric said, reminding me of the gorgeous goalie’s presence.

“What?”

“Telling you two apart.” His eyes were focused over my head, and I turned to follow his gaze.

Ivy. Laughing and practically falling all over herself in front of Crosby.

“You don’t think so?” I asked, never taking my eyes off the scene.

The heat increased behind me as Eric shifted to lean closer to my ear. “Nope.”

“Why is that?” I asked, ignoring the chills erupting across my skin.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked.

“Obviously not,” I chided.

“Well,” he said. “One of you is very, very drunk.”

I burst out laughing. “That much is true.”

I watched Ivy for a few moments, wondering—not for the first time—what it would be like to be that carefree. That reckless and wild.

She shifted suddenly, straightening just slightly, her lips pulling too tight at the corners.

“Oh fuck,” I blurted, then glanced over my shoulder and up at Eric. “Sorry!”

I bolted across the room, shoving a few walls of muscle out of my way with all the strength my five-foot-one frame possessed.

“Hey, sis,” I said, totally cutting off whatever Crosby had been saying. “Can I borrow you for a second? Or a night,” I whispered when I wrapped my arm around her shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, Pepper.” She flashed her best fake-grin at Crosby as she leaned into me a little too much. “See you soon,” she called over her shoulder as I dragged her toward Gage’s front door.

The crisp fall air hit us as I guided her through the door.

“You’re a life—” Ivy’s words gurgled the second we made it off the porch steps.

A splatter of puke hit the flowerbed just off Gage’s entryway.

I’d have to send a cookie-basket apology tomorrow.

I cringed as she hurled her guts up, but I smoothed my hand up and down her spine, trying not to gag against the sour-fruity smell of the liquor that caused the sickness.

“Saver,” she finally sighed after the worst was over. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before resuming her spot against my shoulder.

I shifted, trying to hold her up and reach in my pocket for my cell at the same time.

“Need some help?” Eric’s voice made me jump, which elicited a deep groan from Ivy, whose lids were now practically closed as her head lolled against my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said, whispering as if the entire party might hear me ask for help. “Could you get my phone and call us an Uber?”

“You Ubered here?”

“Yes,” I said, baring almost all of Ivy’s weight now. If I didn’t hurry, I’d never get her in the cab. “My car is…broken.” I struggled against the dead-weight that was my twin.

“Here,” he said, reaching out his arms. “May I?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” I said as he scooped Ivy into his arms like she was nothing more than a sleepy puppy. I sighed, relief washing through my muscles.

“Let me give you a lift home.”

I raised my brows.

“I could grab your dad if you’d feel more comfortable—”

“No!” I cut him off. “Please. No. He’s seen Ivy drunk before, but not…incapacitated. I’d rather not be privy to a lecture.”

“Understood. Let me take you two home.”

I hesitated, contemplating the risk of letting a complete stranger take me home.

Uber drivers are strangers. At least this one works for Dad.

“What?” He grinned before I could answer. “You don’t trust a Shark?”

Something like that.

“Just this once,” I teased and followed him toward his massive F-150. “You’re awfully heroic.”

“Being a decent human being counts for heroic now?” He asked as he buckled my half-conscious sister into the back cab.

A blush crept across my cheeks. Damn this guy was good. Usually it took people days to warm up to my sardonic and nerdy banter.

“Unfortunately, yes,” I said, hurrying around the truck to the passenger seat. He beat me there, holding my door open for me.

I eyed him like he was a Loki illusion.

He rolled his eyes, offering me a hand up into the truck before securely closing the door behind me. A heartbeat later he was behind the wheel.

“Where to, Pepper?”

An uncontrollable chill raked over my skin when he said my name. I rattled off my address and then laughed. “Iron Man,” I mumbled.

“What was that?” he asked as he turned off of Gage’s street.

“The way you said my name. Pepper. It was so Tony-like. Plus, the whole hero thing.”

“Tony?”

“Yeah. Stark?” I eyed him, noting he looked completely oblivious.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me or to Ivy? Because I’m almost one-hundred percent certain she can’t hear you right now.”

I only spared my snoring sister a glance before I gaped at him.

“I thought you were messing with me earlier,” I said, shocked. “You truly don’t know anything about these movies?”

“I’m so confused,” he said, focusing on the road.

“You’ve never seen Iron Man?”

“Nope,” he said.

I gasped, grabbing the center of my chest like he’d torn out my arc reactor.

“That’s bad?” He asked, barely holding back at laugh at my reaction.

“It’s horrendous. At least tell me you were joking about never seeing Thor.”

He pressed his lips together in a shameful line.

“Oh my God! What have you been doing with your life?”

“Um…” he arched a brow at me before returning his eyes to the road. “Hockey?”

“Ah,” I said, nodding as he turned into our apartment complex lot. “That’s right. I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” He asked as he parked in front of Ivy’s and my unit.

“That for players, hockey is life.”

He killed the ignition, hopping out of the car before I could assure him I could get Ivy into our place myself.

I totally couldn’t.

“You assume I have no life outside of hockey just because I haven’t seen a random movie?” Ivy’s snores didn’t stop as he scooped her out of the car and cradled her against his chest without breaking a sweat.

“Random movie?” I mocked him as I stomped toward out front door. I threw it open, ushering him inside and to Ivy’s room. He laid her gently on her bed, and we quietly closed the door behind us. “I legit don’t have enough time in the world to tell you how wrong you are.”

“About a movie?” He teased.

“Yes!” I huffed. “The comic book universe is so intricate and complex and…and…ugh! There is no way you’re that oblivious.”

“Ouch,” he said, crossing his arms over his ripped chest. “So I don’t religiously watch movies.” He shrugged. “I don’t have social media either.”

I gaped at him again. “What? You’re a professional athlete. You have to have at least an Instagram page.”

“Yeah, sure. One that I’ve never seen. My publicist runs it.”

“You’re missing out.”

He scrunched his brow. “On social media? Doubt it. If that’s life I don’t want to live it.”

Touche.

“Not that. Comic book movies.”

He chuckled. “Fine, Pepper,” he said, emphasizing my name. “Enlighten me.”

“What?”

He shrugged, glancing around our quaint apartment. “I’m here,” he said. “Enlighten me. Show me what I’ve been missing.”

A thrill went through me—the one signature to inducting an innocent person into a totally torture-worthy fandom. “You sure you’re up for it?” I teased.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

“Oh,” I said, smirking. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”