"No." Taylor clenched her jaw, shook her head, and repeated the word, a little louder this time. "No."

It didn't matter how loud she said it because nobody was paying attention in middle of the chaos that surrounded her.

Her twin nieces—Madelina and Suzanne—were arguing about something. Uncle JP was doing his best to separate them while Aunt Emily chased Tristan, Taylor's rambunctious four-year-old nephew, around the living room with his pants. Tristan had decided a few days ago that he no longer wanted to wear clothes, and keeping him dressed had apparently become a battle ever since then.

Taylor blew the hair from her eyes with a long-suffering sigh and glanced at her own twin sisters, Mia and Cassie. They weren't running around or arguing, but they were having a rather loud discussion on the merits of the latest addition to the Banners' training roster. Dad stood in the doorway that separated the huge living room from the dining room, interjecting his own opinions in his booming voice.

Yes, chaos definitely reigned in the house—just another typical Sunday family dinner. Taylor looked around with wide-eyed dismay then glanced at Sonny. "Please tell me I was never like this when I was growing up."

Sonny laughed, the loud sound filled with warm amusement. "You had your moments, Pumpkin. But most of them were on the ice."

Taylor made a low noise—a cross between a grunt and a sigh—then shook her head. She was pretty sure Sonny was exaggerating. Maybe. Then again, maybe not. She'd been an only child for the first eleven years of her life, so maybe she had contained her energy to the ice.

A rapid spattering of French erupted from the corner of the room, followed by a loud squeal as Uncle JP caught Tristan and swung him over his shoulder. He grabbed the pants Aunt Emily held out to him then walked toward the sofa and dropped down next to Taylor.

"Your father is right, ma lutine. You didn't have to deal with all this, eh? But on the ice was a little different."

"I think you're all exaggerating."

Her mom popped her head around the corner, taking in the chaos with one quick glance, then rolled her eyes before settling her gaze on Taylor. "They're not exaggerating. Dinner's ready."

The twins—both sets—bounded out of the living room, squeezing past Sonny in their hurry to get to the dining room. Emily took a squirming—and now dressed—Tristan from JP and followed the girls. Something that came close to resembling silence settled around the room. Taylor took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to enjoy the momentary respite.

"So tell me why you don't think it's a good idea, Pumpkin."

"Because I don't."

"It makes sense, ma lutine. I would try the same if I was in his position."

"But it doesn't make sense. He's supposed to market the Blades, not the Banners. And going behind my back to contact both of you was just sneaky. Although I don't know why I'm surprised. I shouldn't have expected anything different from stupid Chuckie-the-fart."

Sonny and JP shared a quick look, one filled with a ton of silent communication she couldn't decipher. Sonny sighed and sat down on her other side, effectively pinning her between the two men. She could sense a battle brewing and folded her arms in front of her, ready to dig in her heels.

"Who is Chuckie-the-fart?"

"The guy who called you. The team's new PR Director. Charles Dawson."

"And you call him Chuckie-the-fart?" Sonny's confusion was clear, both in his voice and in his frown. Taylor blew out another heavy sigh.

"Yeah. Don't you remember him? He used to be on my team when we were kids."

"No, afraid I don't."

"Sure you do. He was a few years older. A little big. He wasn't very good. He used to torment me all the time."

"Sorry, Pumpkin, I don't remember. What I do remember is you always going head-to-head with the bigger kids, thinking you had to prove yourself."

Taylor's mouth dropped open in shock. "I most certainly did not."

Her surprised words were greeted by laughter from both men. She frowned and gave them both a look that clearly conveyed her thoughts. JP leaned over and ruffled her hair, just like he used to do when she was younger.

"Ah, but you did, ma lutine. Every chance you got."

She frowned again and waved a hand in dismissal. "Whatever. That doesn't matter anyway. What matters is that he went behind my back and called both of you after I told him I wasn't interested. And you both said yes! I still can't believe it."

The odd sense of betrayal swept over her once more when she thought about it. Chuckie's proposition still had her seeing red. He wanted to do some photo shoots and press releases featuring her with her gold medal—and with her dad and uncle. A "family legacy" story, he told her. A real, genuine, human interest piece to draw people in.

He'd had the nerve to tell her the idea had just come to him in the fifteen minutes he'd been talking to the small group of players after Mr. Murphy had introduced him. She didn't believe it. No way.

And then, to make things even worse, he'd opened that stupid, sexy, full mouth of his and said that they had a better chance of drawing in the crowds by using Sonny and JP, that people would take them more seriously since they were real "professional hockey players".

Yeah—because no way could the women on the Blades be professional hockey players.

Anger swept through her once more at the memory of those words. How could he even say such a thing? And how was he going to market the team if that's what he really thought? She should have cross-checked him, right then and there, and knocked him flat on his ass instead of telling him no through her clenched teeth and walking away. Maybe then he wouldn't have gone behind her back.

"You need to think about the team, Pumpkin."

Taylor blinked, forcing all thoughts of Chuckie-the-fart from her mind before looking over at Sonny. "I am thinking about the team! If he wants to promote the Blades, he should be focusing on them, not you guys."

"I thought he was."

"Okay, so maybe he is. A little. But he also wants to use the two of you. That takes the focus off the team."

"You need to look at it realistically, Pumpkin."

"I am."

"No, you're not. It's a brand-new league and it's going to be an uphill battle to get it off the ground. Anyone worth his salt is going to do whatever he can to promote it and make it a success. Sounds like he's doing just that."

"No. What he's doing is making things more difficult for me."

"More difficult?" Sonny leaned back and studied her with his patented steely gaze. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything." She tried to push up from the sofa but Sonny stopped her. Great. Her and her big mouth. She shouldn't have said anything.

"What did you mean, Taylor?"

"Nothing. Honest. I'm just tired and stressed a little, that's all. Just ignore me." She held her breath, waiting to see if he'd push, hoping he wouldn't. How could she explain the subtle digs she was getting from a few of her teammates without it sounding like she was whining? So some of the girls were giving her a hard time, saying that the only reason she was on the team was because of Sonny and JP and their connections. So what? It was only a few of them, like Rachel and Jordyn Knott and Amanda Beall. And Taylor knew better, knew it wasn't true. She shouldn't let it get to her—which is exactly what Sonny would tell her if she told him.

He opened his mouth—no doubt to ask her again what she meant—but didn't have a chance to say anything because her mom poked her head into the room and gave all three of them a stern look that was softened by the smile playing around her mouth.

"Are the three of you done? Because we're waiting on you."

"Yup, all done." Taylor pushed up from the sofa and hurried into the dining room, giving her mom a small smile of thanks as she moved past her. She heard Sonny mutter something beneath his breath and noticed the questioning look he tossed her way as he took his seat at the table. She wasn't out of the woods yet but hopefully she'd get a reprieve for the night.

That was all she needed, just a small reprieve. Then she could spend time coming up with a story to give him if—when—he asked again.