Chapter 1

Icannot believe I let my friends drag me to a sports event. One where I’m literally freezing my ass off at that. Who in their right mind wants to sit in an arena that’s set to the same temperature as my refrigerator and watch a bunch of guys skate around and hit something with a stick?

I could think of a lot better ways to spend my Friday night. But the thing about friendships is sometimes you have to take one for the team. My friend Harper is a physical therapist for the NY Strikers. The girl lives for hockey. Personally, I’ve never seen the appeal.

Did I mention it’s cold in here?

I’ve lived in New York my entire life. I’m used to the season changing, the harsh winters, but this is different. It’s a different kind of cold. As I sit here waiting for the players to come out and start doing whatever it is they do.

Harper is buzzing with excitement next to me. “Can you believe these seats? Aren’t they amazing?” she screams right into my ear.

“You know my family has a box, right? We could be sitting up there, with the warmth,” I tell her while eyeing the expanse of glass windows that overlook the rink.

“But that’s not the same experience as being right here. Wait till the game starts. You’ll see.” She jumps up and down in her seat.

“You do realize that if my cousins are in attendance tonight and they see me down here, they’re going to be dragging both of us up to that box.”

“Is it dragging if I go willingly?” Harper grins. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to Enzo dragging me off pretty much anywhere.”

“Ew, gross. And that’s not happening. Trust me when I say you do not want one of my alpha, I am man cousins chasing you down.”

“What about your brother? He’s younger but I could make it work.” She laughs.

“Not happening.” I shudder at the thought of one of my best friends and Alessandro hooking up.

Just. No.

The announcer starts talking about the teams, and then everyone is suddenly on their feet. Harper yanks at my arm to get me up. I look at her like she’s grown two heads. She’s jumping around, screaming, and yelling out some nonsense about the Strikers.

I watch as a bunch of players come out onto the ice. They skate across the rink, shooting pucks in every direction. “What are they doing?” I ask her.

“Didn’t you just tell me your family had a box?”

“Yeah, and?”

“You’ve been here before, right? You have watched a hockey game before, haven’t you?”

“I’ve never been here, and whenever I’ve been forced to watch anything sports related, I usually ignore the world around me and scroll on my socials.” I shrug.

“This is just their warm-up. They’ll do their stretches and shit before the game actually begins.”

“Okay, so why is everyone cheering like they just won a gold medal?” I question her.

“It’s the Stanley Cup. They play for the Cup, not a gold medal. And we’re cheering because we’re supportive of our home team. Like you should be,” Harper explains while keeping her eyes on the ice.

“Right, got ya,” I grumble under my breath. Which I can see, mind you. I wonder if heated seats are a thing here? If not, they should be.

“I can’t believe you’re sitting next to me in purple right now,” Harper says.

“What’s wrong with purple?” I narrow my glare at her. “And this is Chanel,” I point out while running a hand down my coat.

“I’m sure it is, but purple is the opposing team’s color.” She shakes her head at me.

I sit back down and pull my phone out of my bag. There’s only so long a girl can watch a guy skate around on ice and hit something with a stick into a net. My eyes are glued to my screen until a knock on the window in front of me has me glancing up. A player in a red and white uniform smiles in my direction. The sharpest blue eyes sear through me and then he turns around and skates off.

The spectators behind me are in an uproar over the interaction. Cheering and chanting a name I can’t quite make out. “Who was that?” I ask Harper.

“That was Travis fucking O’Neil. The fact you even have to ask that is just…” She shakes her head again, her expression incredulous. “I clearly have a lot to teach you.”

The players all leave the ice again, and I tug on Harper’s arm. “Where are they going? Is it over?”

“No, it’s not over.” She laughs. “It’s barely started. They’re going to the locker room. They’ll be back out.” Harper finally sits down and checks her phone. Her lips part on a loud gasp, and her eyes bug out of her head.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, peering over while trying to get a look at her screen.

Harper moves her phone out of my sight line. “Come on, I have to go and see one of the players about something,” she says.

“You’re not working tonight,” I remind her.

“I’m always working. If they call, I have to see what they need. It’ll only take a sec.” She yanks at my hand until I’m standing.

“I can just wait here for you,” I suggest.

“And risk you going home? Not a chance. You’re watching the whole game and you’re watching them win,” she says with a definitive nod.

I don’t have a choice but to follow Harper when she starts pulling me across the stands. She stops at a gate and shows a security guy her pass. He waves us through and then we’re moving down a mirrored tunnel.

But none of this prepares me for the scene we walk into. I stop in my tracks, forcing Harper to pause in front of me. “What?” she asks.

“Harper, this is their dressing room,” I whisper. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. All probably wondering what this strange woman is doing in a men’s locker room.

“I know. It’s awesome, right?” Harper smiles and then continues to drag me along. She comes to a full stop in front of that same player at the window. The one with the blue eyes. “Hey, Travis, what do you need?”

Travis.I roll the name over my tongue. He looks from Harper to me. “Your friend,” he says, staring in my direction.

“Excuse me?” I ask, shockingly aware that I’m in the team dressing room all over again.

“You’re wearing the wrong color, babe.” He reaches behind his back, pulls something out of his bag, and hands it to me. “Put this on. It’s a spare.”

I look down at his hand and the jersey clutched in his fist. “Why?” I ask him. I happen to really like my purple coat. It’s warm. And like I said, it’s freaking Chanel. I don’t know why people have such an issue with what I’m wearing tonight.

“Because red is going to look so much better on you, and it’ll help us win.” He smirks.

“Wearing red is going to help you win? How, exactly?” I lift a questioning brow even as my arm reaches out to accept the jersey.

“It’s good luck,” Travis says.

I glance at Harper and she just stares right back at me with wide eyes. I can see it on her face, though. Exactly what she’s thinking.

Don’t argue. Just put on the damn jersey.

Travis takes hold of my hand. “Follow me,” he says without actually giving me a choice.

It’s not until we turn a corner that I realize my friend isn’t behind us. She’s let this hulk of a man drag me off to God only knows where, to do God only knows what. Alone.

“You can change here,” Travis tells me, nodding at a small cubicle space. “No one will see you.”

I stare at him. I don’t know why I’m playing along. But I am. I undo the button of my coat. “I’m wearing clothes under this, just so you know. It’s not like anyone would see anything anyway,” I say while shrugging out of the sleeves and handing him my coat.

Travis doesn’t hide the way his gaze runs up and down my body. “Yeah, that’s not an outfit I want all my teammates seeing you in.”

I roll my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing,” I tell him as I tug the jersey over my head and flatten it in place. Then I hold out my hand to take my coat back.

Travis keeps it in his firm grip. “I’ll return it after the game. Better yet, I’ll buy you a red one.”

“I’m going to freeze my ass off out there in this,” I whine.

“I know a way you can stay warm.” He smirks.

“How?”

He leans in to whisper in my ear. “Just think of all the ways I’m going to fuck you after this game.”

“You seem really sure of yourself,” I tell him.

“I am. Now, come on. It’s time to get back out there.” He takes my hand and leads me around the corner, stopping before he turns to me. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’ll tell you my name after you win tonight. If you lose, then… well… guess you’ll be left wondering.”

“I don’t plan on losing.”

“Nobody ever plans on losing.” I shrug before pivoting on my heel and heading out of the locker room with Harper in tow.

She leads us back to our seats in front of the ice. “I can’t believe you just got O’Neil’s jersey,” she shouts at me.

“Why?”

“You have no idea what just happened in there,” she says.

“I met a superstitious hockey player who had a fit because I wasn’t wearing red,” I tell her.

“Oh, girl, no. You were just claimed by Travis freaking O’Neil.”

“I didn’t get claimed by anyone. Besides, he doesn’t even know who I am. When he finds out, he’ll want this jersey back and then he’ll want to forget he ever met me.” It’s the way it always is. Guys find out my last name and they run. Or they hang around long enough to accidentally “run into” one of my family members. And then I never hear from them again.

“Yeah, I think Travis is gonna be different. I’ve got a feeling.” Harper sighs.

Everyone stands when the players start coming out onto the ice again. And Number Nine looks right at me and waves. Travis waves. At me. At least I think he’s waving at me.