Taylor dug the toe of her skate into the ice and pushed off. The muscles of her legs warmed and stretched, coming alive with each stride. Long, balanced, more natural than breathing.

How long had she been doing this? Years. More than half her life. It was what she wanted to do. What she needed to do. It was in her blood—blood that had nothing to do with her step-dad and her uncle. They were related by marriage, not by birth. But nobody cared about that, not when they only focused on her name.

Not when they couldn't look beyond the name and see her talent for what it really was: natural talent. Skills she had worked on, developed and sharpened for as long as she could remember.

Would it be different if she didn't carry Sonny's last name?

Her stride faltered and she lost control of the puck, sliding sideways as Maddison Sinclair nudged her out of the way. Taylor bit into the mouthpiece and swallowed back a curse as a shrill whistle pierced the chilled air.

Dammit. What had brought that thought on? Where had it even come from? Bitter anger burned low in her gut—anger at herself for even thinking something like that. Sonny was her father, in every way that counted. He had officially adopted her two years after he had married her mom but even if he hadn't, he'd still be her father. He'd done so much for her—for both of them. So why was she having such selfish, immature thoughts now?

Taylor glanced to the side and felt the heat of anger rush to her face. It was his fault. Chuckie-the-fart. All of it. If it hadn't been for him, she wouldn't be thinking like this. Damn him and that stupid kiss. If it hadn't been for that stupid kiss—

Oh, who was she kidding? None of this was Chuckie's fault, no matter how much she wished it was. She'd been out of sorts even before that stupid kiss, trying to figure out where she belonged, trying to figure out what she wanted to do.

Trying to face the reality that the Blades were the best she could ever hope for because there was no place else for her to go. For any of them to go. This was it. A lifetime of sweat and hard work. Of broken bones and pulled muscles and cuts and bruises. This was it, the best any of them could hope for.

But that didn't help explain her mood. And it certainly didn't help explain that kiss.

Why had he kissed her? What had he been trying to accomplish? She didn't understand it—or her reaction to it. It was like she'd been slammed into the boards from behind. Like someone had slashed her feet with a stick and sent her flying. Like—

"LeBlanc." Coach Reynolds' voice cut into her thoughts, startling her. Taylor glanced around and noticed that everyone was huddled around the coach—everyone but her.

She ignored Rachel's biting laugh and joined the group. Sammie tossed a questioning glance in her direction but Taylor shook her head, sending her the quick message that she was fine and wasn't going to answer any questions.

Now only if Rachel would wipe that self-serving smirk off her face…

"Just a little over two weeks before our first game, ladies. It'll be here before you know it. Are we ready?"

There was a low chorus of "Yes, Coach", the voices almost subdued. Coach Reynolds frowned and looked around, her dark gaze resting on each face. "I don't think I heard that. I said, are we ready, ladies?"

"Yes, Coach." The answer was loud, all sixteen players answering in unison at the top of their lungs. Coach nodded, a small smile briefly tugging at the corner of her mouth. "That's a little better. We have six practices left—let's make every one count. You ladies have worked hard to get where you are, but we're not done yet. I want to see one hundred and fifty percent out there. Each time. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Coach."

"Good. Are there any questions?"

Rachel pushed her way to the front, a calculating gleam in her eyes. "Do you have the starting lineup ready, Coach?"

"Not yet. I should have that ready by practice on Saturday." Coach paused and looked around, her gaze assessing. "Which means no slacking. From anyone."

Sammie raised her hand, a blush fanning across her cheeks when Rachel and Amanda laughed at her. Coach threw them both a quelling look then turned her attention back to Sammie.

"Reigler. What is it?"

"Have you heard anything about ticket sales? Is anyone but our families even going to show up?"

Coach Reynolds pursed her lips and looked toward the glass. Taylor didn't have to turn around to know she was looking at Mr. Murphy and Chuckie and the other suits that had gathered next to Sonny and JP. The Coach's gaze moved from the group of men and briefly touched on Taylor before moving back to Sammie.

"It's not our job to worry about ticket sales, Reigler. It's our job to get out there and play our best game. Leave the sales to the suits, okay?"

Sammie nodded, a motion echoed by several of the other players. But Taylor heard the undercurrents in the coach's voice. The hesitation, the worry. No, it wasn't their place to worry about the sales, but every single woman here understood the importance of those sales. Without them, there was no team. And if there was no team, there was no place left for them to go.

"Any other questions? No? Okay, hit the showers. I'll see everyone back here Saturday morning, bright and early." Coach Reynolds blew the whistle again, short and low, then nodded toward Taylor. "LeBlanc. A minute."

Oh great, now what? Taylor schooled her face into an expressionless mask. "Yes, Coach?"

"What happened out there? Looked like you lost your concentration."

"I—" She hesitated, wondering how to answer. It wasn't like she could tell Coach Reynolds the truth. No, that wasn't right. She could tell her the truth—she just couldn't tell her why. "I did. Sorry. It won't happen again."

"Listen, LeBlanc. I know you're not happy with this whole set-up."

"You do?"

"Yeah." Coach Reynolds smiled, the small gesture brief but understanding. "I get it. I wouldn't be too happy about it if I was in your shoes. But—"

"I know. If it helps the team…" Taylor shrugged and let the words fade into the chilly air.

"That's the spirit. You better get going. I think they're ready for you."

Taylor looked over her shoulder, dread filling her. Yeah, they were ready for her. But was she ready for them?

Not by a long shot. But it wasn't as if she had any choice in the matter.

She skated over to the boards, adjusting her stride as she reached the door. The last thing she needed was to trip and fall. Yeah, wouldn't that look just great. At least nobody was taking pictures or filming anything.

Yet.

She came to a stop next to Sonny, taking comfort in the wide smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "You okay, Pumpkin?"

"Yup. Never better."

Sonny leaned closer and lowered his voice. "You know I can tell when you're lying, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just don't feel—" She stopped midsentence when Mr. Murphy and Chuckie-the-bastard came up to them.

Don't look at him. Don't look at him.

She repeated the phrase to herself a dozen times, not that it did any good. Sure enough, her gaze drifted over to him. Tall, lean, broad. And brooding. Definitely brooding. She could see it in the set of his square jaw, in the defiant tilt of his head.

And in the depths of those stupid ocean blue eyes when he turned and looked at her. Was it her imagination, or were the tips of his ears turning the slightest bit red? Like he was embarrassed or something.

Good. He should be.

And at least she wasn't the only one blushing.

She looked away and forced a smile to her face as Mr. Murphy introduced the small group of people. Taylor barely heard their names, not when she was more focused on the look Sonny was giving her—like he had noticed something between Chuckie and her and was trying to figure it out.

Ridiculous. There was nothing between them.

Nothing except the memory of that stupid kiss that had made her stupid toes curl inside her stupid skates.

She tightened her grip on the stick and flashed a bright smile at nobody in particular. JP nudged her and briefly shook his head. She tamed the smile, wondering if maybe she had gone a bit overboard with it.

A robust brunette stepped to the front, her wavy hair sprayed into submission. Dark lashes, too long and thick to be natural, framed a pair of shrewd hazel eyes. Her full mouth was outlined in a dark mauve. Professional makeup accented her fair skin and sharp cheekbones, turning her face into some wizard's canvas. The woman looked vaguely familiar. A few seconds went by before Taylor recognized her as a reporter from one of the local stations.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she realized just how real things were about to get.

The woman came to a stop and looked up at Taylor. Her head tilted to the side as she studied her, a frown creasing the smooth skin of her forehead. "We have a few minutes before we get started. Would you like to freshen up?"

"Freshen up?"

"Yes. You know. Maybe put some makeup on and fix your hair before we get started?"

"Oh. I, uh—" Taylor swallowed and darted a panicked look at Sonny and JP. They both stared back at her, their expressions annoyingly blank and completely helpless. "I don't, um, I mean—I just had practice and—"

Mr. Murphy stepped forward and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "They just came off the ice, Patricia."

"Yes, of course. Well, I suppose we can work with the natural look." The woman didn't look like she wanted to do any such thing. She pursed her lips and looked away, her gaze settling on Sonny then moving to JP. An appreciative smile spread across her face and she moved a little closer to him. Taylor's hand tightened on her stick and she fought against the urge to hit the woman with it.

Chuckie moved next to her and clamped a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. Taylor tossed him a dirty look. Did he really think she'd do something as stupid as hit the woman?

Yeah, he did.

Of course he did.

"Patricia, why don't we let the men get their skates on while we go over what you wanted to see. Or maybe you'd like to talk to Taylor while we waited? Did you have any questions for her?"

"I think I have everything I need from her bio and stats." Patricia glanced down at the notes in her hand, her mouth moving soundlessly as she read over them. Taylor almost rolled her eyes but Chuckie's hand tightened on her shoulder in warning.

And what was up with that? How did he know what she was getting ready to do?

"Started playing at age six. Gold medal winner. Athletic scholarship. Scholar-Athlete." Patricia kept reading, the words turning into a barely audible mumble. She looked up, a plastic smile on her face. "No, I have everything I need."

Hope flared in Taylor's chest. "So, this isn't like a real interview?"

"No. We'll be doing mostly action shots. The camera will film the three of you on the ice for a little bit as I talk in front of the boards. Then they'll piece everything together back at the studio and run it tonight."

"Oh." The hope flared even brighter. "I can do that."

"I'll need to ask your father and uncle a few things, of course. And Mr. Dawson and Mr. Murphy. But I have everything I need from you."

The hope withered and died, morphing into something else. Not disappointment. No way. It must be anger. Or maybe impatience. Or—

Chuck's fingers squeezed her shoulder once more. "But you will be focusing on the Blades, correct? That was the whole purpose of you coming here today."

"Of course." She waved her hand absently, the smile never leaving her face. "I do know how to do my job, Mr. Dawson. No worries."

Sonny came to a stop next to them, silencing Taylor and Chuckie both. "You ready, Pumpkin?"

She glanced at Chuckie, wondering why the muscle in his jaw was jumping again, then looked back at Sonny. "Ready as always."

"That's my girl." He turned to the reporter, his gray eyes glittering in the overhead lights. "Did you want us to do anything in particular? Taylor has some mean stick handling skills that would be—"

"That's fine. Just whatever you're comfortable with." Patricia smiled and moved toward the glass, coming to a stop next to the big guy balancing a camera on his shoulder. Taylor frowned then turned toward Sonny.

"I think we were just dismissed."

JP approached them, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at Chuckie's hand where it still rested on her shoulder. She felt Chuckie stiffen a split second before he dropped his hand, then smothered a laugh when JP's gaze cleared. Yeah, right. His concern was seriously misplaced if he thought there was anything going on between them.

"Don't worry about her, ma lutine. We have more important things to do, eh?"

"Yeah. I guess." She twirled the stick in her hand then followed Sonny and JP out to the ice. She felt a hand drop to her shoulder once more and turned around, surprised to see the serious expression on Chuckie's face as he stood behind her.

"I really need you to go out and wow them, Tay-Tay."

She glanced down at his broad hand. "Yeah. Sure. No problem." She quickly shrugged his hand from her shoulder and stepped onto the ice, forcing all thoughts of deep blue eyes and a warm, toe-curling kiss from her mind.