The chill from the rink did nothing to stop the heat flushing my skin from head to toe.

The private viewing room in the club.

Eric’s lips crushing mine.

The delicious way he claimed my mouth.

His hands on my hips and his hardness against my—

CRACK!

Shit!

A scrimmage was in full swing, the sounds of shredding ice, cracking sticks, and the puck smacking against the boards jerked me back to the present.

Damn it, Eric.

It was just a kiss. Nothing more.

Then why can’t I focus?

I clenched my hands into fists, letting the cold tingling my fingers ground me.

Shedding the red-hot images that had haunted me since last night, I slipped into the role I’d worked years to earn. My eyes darted around the ice, tracking the movements of each player.

“Aren’t statisticians only supposed to work on game days?” Mason’s voice called from behind me, and I tried not to cringe.

It wasn’t like we’d had a bad break up all those years ago, totally opposite actually. It was a mutual agreement, one where he was certain he’d make an NHL team and would have no time for a relationship. Which was just as well, since we’d drifted apart by that point anyway. But, he was the reason I didn’t even consider dating players.

Eric’s tongue flicking the edges of my teeth.

That growl from his chest that made my thighs clench.

I ground my teeth, focusing harder on the action happening in front of me.

“Yes,” I finally answered Mason, not bothering to look over my shoulder. I knew he’d be beside me within minutes.

He’d been doing that often since I came home—hanging around. Not for me. But for Dad. When he saw me, he saw my relationship to the coach of the Seattle Sharks and nothing more. Just some girl he used to know who had one hell of a connection.

“But,” I continued, trying not to immediately be short with him. “I’m new. I want to practice as much as the Sharks do, and I have numbers to run, anyway.”

“Can’t deny your work ethic,” Mason said, leaning his elbows on the box railing. Dressed in a pair of athletic pants and a long sleeve shirt, it was easy to spot what I’d seen in him back in high school. He was regularly handsome, but as much as people expected us to fall back into our high school love, there wasn’t a chance.

No spark.

No connection.

Nothing beyond agreeable friendship—on my end at least.

My eyes tracked the puck as Bentley took possession, gliding across the ice as quick as lightning and as graceful as a gazelle.

Damn, he’s fast.

A few blinks and he was bearing down on Gentry, whose reflexes were almost too fast to follow as he blocked the puck.

My heart leaped and I bit back a smile. Who was I kidding? I had to lock down an all-out cheer for his quick movements.

Shit, when did I become full-on TeamGentry?

Probably around the same time he stole my breath with that kiss.

No, earlier than that. When he’d scooped up a drunk Ivy and helped me get her home safely.

“Nothing going on with the farm team today, Mason?” I asked, needing to force myself out of my overcrowded mind.

“Tomorrow. You want to come track my stats, nerd?” He playfully nudged my side, and I chuckled. The term was a badge of honor for me, and he knew it.

“Can’t. I have to stay focused on the Sharks. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I understand who takes priority here. Always have.” There was a hint of sadness in his tone, but it was nearly drowned out by the ambition. I wished I could help him, but I couldn’t make him a better player. If Dad saw him as an asset for the team, he would’ve put him on the roster. “So,” he said, sighing. “You have eyes for Gentry?”

“What?” I snapped, taking my eyes off the ice and gaping at him.

He tilted his head. “Isn’t tracking the goalie your main focus?”

Air whooshed out of my lungs, my shoulders dropping.

Damn, I needed to find a grip, fast.

“Right,” I said, clearing my throat. “But not just Gentry,” I said, hoping his name wasn’t coated in a lusty-tone. “I have to keep tabs on Davis too, and then triple check each team’s line-ups.”

“Even the opposing?” He asked.

“Yes,” I said, grinning slightly. Anytime I thought about my job I got all giddy inside. “I have to stay on top of who is actually on the ice. If it doesn’t match the roster given to me, I have to get the offending player off the ice. It throws off all the stats, if not. I can’t accurately track if I don’t have the proper list.”

Mason whistled. “And you do all that solo?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m one of five. I already have a good crew. We’ll all work together to keep track of time-on-ice, faceoffs won/lost, shots on goal, missed shots, shot types, hits, takeaways, penalties…all of it.”

“Don’t envy you,” he said. “All the years I’ve known you, and I still can’t believe you’re into all this shit.”

I hissed. “This shit lets me help the team win games.”

He raised his hands, palms up. “Whoa, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I only meant the numbers and everything. The quick thinking.”

“You’re saying you don’t think fast on the ice?” I challenged, the hot air rushing out of my lungs.

“No, of course, I do,” he said. “But that is different. When I’m on the ice…everything else fades away. The crowd, the other players, it’s me and the one guy I need to steal the puck from.”

Like every other player.

Hockey was life.

And now that I was part of the team, it would become mine, too. But, I’d learned enough from Dad over the years to know I would become an expert at compartmentalizing. If I didn’t? I’d fuse with the Sharks and never see myself again. Not that Dad didn’t try—but he was married to the game.

I fell silent again, despite Mason making no move to leave my side.

Focused, calm, centered.

This was practice for the Sharks and I both. I needed to keep my skills sharp, train my brain to track the stats until I could do it in my sleep.

After practice, I was up to my elbows in stats, crunching the numbers to sharpen my skills. Adrenaline coursed through my blood with each set and result, my stomach thrilling with the completion of a formula. I couldn’t believe I’d gotten so lucky to land my dream job. I’d earned this title, and I was determined to prove to anyone who ever doubted my position on this team simply because of my father’s status just how wrong they were.

I drowned out the memory of the paparazzi’s loaded questions and finished up my work.

“Pepper, wait up!” Mason called behind me in the hallway as I headed for the arenas’ exit.

I stopped, my boots squeaking against the slick floors as I spun around. “What’s up, Mason?” I thought he’d ducked out after practice had ended.

“I thought maybe you might want to have dinner?”

I started walking again, and he fell into step beside me.

“Um…” I swallowed hard. The exit doors were in sight like a beacon. If I could reach them maybe I wouldn’t have to come up with an answer.

“Or coffee?” He asked.

I fished my cell out of my pocket, bringing up the Uber app.

The doors were only a few steps away, but I’d still have to stand and wait a few minutes for the ride. Before I could order the car, Mason gently grabbed my wrist, forcing me to look at him.

“Comic book store?” He raised his brows as we came to a stop in front of the doors.

I laughed, sighing. “You’re that desperate? You hate comics.”

“I could stand the fru-fru crap for you.”

I glared at him, pressing my lips together before I could launch into a million reasons why he was so off-base.

Chatter filtered through the exit doors.

Lots of chatter.

Too much, actually.

I craned my neck, pushing the door open slightly before slamming it shut again.

“Damn,” I hissed.

“What is it?” Mason asked, repeating my peek motion. “Oh!” He said, excitement coloring his voice. “They’ve been insatiable all season. It’s because the Sharks are on a hot streak.”

Paparazzi. I understood they had a job to do, but they hadn’t been too kind to me the other day, and being the center of attention made my palms sweat.

I wiped them on my leggings and sighed.

Ivy was perfect for that world. The action, the attention. It was no wonder she was interning at one of the local magazines.

I glanced behind me. “There’s a back way out, right?”

“Screw that,” Mason said and gripped my arm. Before I could blink, we were through the doors and facing thirty of Seattle’s ravenous reporters.

“Ms. Harris!” One of them yelled.

I was stuck with them blocking a clear path to my non-existent car and Mason behind me. If there were a path, I would’ve sprinted all the way home.

“What do you think the rest of the season is shaping up to look like?”

“Are the numbers good?”

“Who has the best shots on goal as of today?”

They rattled off questions so fast I couldn’t follow. Instead, I stood there, opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water. This was so not my scene. My heart raced so hard I was certain it would bust out of my chest any second.

Mason nudged me from behind. “Talk, Pepper,” he whispered.

“I…uh…” Damn it. This was why I chose a profession totally out of the spotlight.

Clearly, you were wrong.

Why did they care?

“Are you and Mason back together? Do your fathers know?”

“Mason, are you here about that rumored trade?”

“Do you have any comment on the speculation that you’re too young for this position?” Another one asked. “That you were handed the job because of who your father is and that the Sharks are risking the season?”

“What the hell?” Eric’s strong voice snapped from behind me.

Mason umphed when Eric pushed him out of the way.

“Come on,” he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Gentry!”

“Gentry!”

The reporters called his name, but he simply shook his head and pushed us through the crowd like a bouncer.

“Get in,” he said, holding the door of his truck open for me and helping me inside. He slammed the door and two seconds later he was behind the wheel, rushing us out of the parking lot like the paps may be following us.

I glanced over my shoulder to be sure they weren’t.

Of course, they aren’t.

I wasn’t that important.

Gentry was, though, as one of the Sharks’ up-and-coming players and with all the blocks he’d had this season alone. His contract would be huge when he re-signed.

“Thanks,” I said once my heart had de-lodged itself from my throat.

“You know me,” he said, his tone light. “Hero.”

I laughed, the action releasing the tension in my shoulders. “Iron Man.”

“I’m starting to get used to that.”

I grinned at him, taking the moment to appreciate how he looked behind the wheel. Freshly showered, his hair still damp, but tied in a knot at the back of his head, the muscles in his arms and legs no doubt sore from practice.

Those thick muscles he’d draped me across to hide me in the private viewing room.

The way his hand had been gentle yet possessive when grabbing my rear.

The grin melted off my face and I jerked back into my seat, staring straight ahead.

We hadn’t been alone together since.

And now I was in his truck, heading toward my apartment.

“Um…” God, why couldn’t I have Ivy’s ability to speak? To have a conversation under any circumstances. To be confident and cool as opposed to fumbly and awkward.

“I finally got that part,” he said, filling in my obvious fail.

“Oh,” I said. Brilliant.

“I figured you would’ve stayed later after practice. I was going to try to catch you.”

“I didn’t realize,” I said, wringing my hands in my lap.

“What were you doing with Mason?”

“What?”

He turned onto my street, sparing me a look. “You two looked like you had walked out together. Was he supposed to give you a ride home?”

“Ugh, no,” I said. Was he jealous? Or simply curious because of the job Dad had given him. “He dragged me out there.”

“You’re joking.”

“No,” I said as Eric parked in what was quickly becoming his spot outside my apartment. “Mason has always been a fan of that stuff. Any way he can get noticed. Or be seen with me or Dad.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s fine. I was just…taken off guard.”

Again.

And I shouldn’t have been. I knew what I was getting when I signed on to an NHL team.

“I didn’t think they’d be interested in me so soon. If they even were at all.”

Eric chuckled. “Of course, they’re interested in you,” he said as he got out of the truck. I hopped out before he could come open the door for me which earned me a chiding glare.

“What?” I said, smiling. “I’m completely capable of opening my own doors.”

“That’s not the point, Pepper.” He arched a brow at me as he reached in the back of his truck and grabbed his trusty toolbox plus another cardboard box.

“Then what is the point, Iron Man?”

He shook his head. “Respect. Appreciation—”

“Hero things,” I cut him off, teasing him. He motioned for me to open my garage, and I obeyed.

“You act like you’ve never been around a gentleman before.” He popped the hood of my car and rolled up the sleeves of his grey thermal.

“You weren’t very gentlemanly when you had me pinned against the private viewing room’s wall.” The words blurted from my mouth and I bit down on my tongue, a flush heating my cheeks.

His eyes snapped up to mine from where he bent over my engine, the searing look only making my skin flush hotter. He held my gaze, those green eyes churning as if he was right back in that room, my legs wrapped around his hips, our tongues dancing, fire-crackling—

“It was just a kiss,” he said, dumping a bucket of ice-cold water all over the flames in my core. “No big deal,” he continued. “Right?”

My lips fell apart, shock and ice and anger swirling inside me and stealing any retort I may have had.

So, naturally, I snorted instead.

Brilliant.

“What?” He asked, no longer looking at me but focusing on my car. “You said it yourself, we’re just friends. No chemistry.”

He’s really going to act like that kiss wasn’t world-shaking?

Maybe it wasn’t for him.

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling smaller than Antman.

“I did,” I said, clearing my throat. “And I meant it. You’re right,” I continued, finding my voice. “It wasn’t a big deal at all. I was simply pointing out that your hero-antics only go so far.”

“I’m not following.” He glanced up at me.

There.

Something sparked behind his eyes.

Something that suggested our kiss wasn’t nothing.

Or maybe I was seeing what I wanted.

“I mean,” I said, forcing myself to respond. Channeling Ivy’s boldness, I walked a little closer, until he unfolded himself from my engine and stood, never breaking our gaze. “That when it comes down to it, you may be a hero by day, but you’re a villain after dark.”

His lips popped open, but no words came.

I smirked, loving the shock that crossed his features.

“I’m going to make us some food.” I nodded toward my car. “Come in when you’re done.”

I spun around before I could lose my composure, and walked to my front door. I couldn’t resist a look over my shoulder as I opened it. Eric’s eyes were still on me, and they were hotter than ever.

There.

Chew on that, Iron Man.