3. Emma

My stomach twistswith a heady mix of excitement and nerves as I step into the Blizzards' practice facility on Monday morning. The sleek, modern building practically screams success and prestige.

It smells familiar, like fresh ice and worn leather. It smells like home. I drink in the vibrant atmosphere, memories of my childhood flooding back.

This is my secret truth—the reason I care so much about hockey, the reason I have been dying for a chance to work with this team my whole career.

My father was the head coach of the Blizzards.

I spent countless hours as a child in this practice facility with my parents, watching Dad coach the team he adored. This place was my second home.

Until it wasn't.

I've been fighting for a way back to that feeling of belonging ever since.

Everything feels different now. I'm not a wide-eyed kid anymore, I'm a professional. Squaring my shoulders, I'm ready to prove myself worthy of this incredible opportunity, legacy be damned.

I spot Chloe Bennett, the head of PR and marketing, standing by the reception desk. She's a confident woman in her early thirties with long, blond hair and sharp features, and looks to be about five months pregnant.

Chloe sees me too, and approaches me with a warm smile and outstretched hand, putting me at ease.

"Emma, welcome! We're thrilled to have you join the team. I can't wait to show you around," Chloe says enthusiastically as we shake hands.

"Thank you so much, Chloe. I'm beyond excited to dive in," I reply, matching her energy.

Together, we set off through the facility, Chloe's heels clicking confidently on the polished concrete. I know this place like the back of my hand, of course, but I'm not about to say that.

I don't want anyone here to know about my family.

Women have a hard enough time working in sports, even without rumors of unfair hiring practices. I got this job fair and square, and I'm determined to earn everyone's respect the regular way.

I have no illusions that I can keep this secret forever—frankly, anyone who searched my name on the internet could probably figure it out—but for now, I want to be just another normal member of the team.

As we walk through the bustling practice space, I catch glimpses of the dedicated players immersed in their training. The weight room is buzzing with activity as muscled athletes push themselves to the limit under the watchful eye of the strength coach.

In the PT area, players work with trainers to rehab injuries and optimize performance. My mind flashes to the scorching-hot guys I met at the club on Saturday.

Lukas with his panty-melting grin and Slade with that sexy, brooding intensity. I wonder if they're around here somewhere?

Don't you dare blush, Emma.

Maybe I'll get lucky and avoid them all day. The last thing I need is any awkward run-ins while I'm trying to make a stellar first impression.

We enter the marketing department, and my eyes widen at the sight. The walls are adorned with past campaign posters and team memorabilia, a visual tapestry chronicling the Blizzards' brand evolution. It's like walking through a hockey history exhibit, each image telling a story of triumph, perseverance, and the unbreakable bond between the team and its dedicated fans.

The fans are really loyal, I'll give them that. Last year's season was abysmal, but rumors are that with the new hires the team made, the ticket sales this year are stronger than ever.

Chloe leads me around the marketing office, introducing me to the team. They greet me with warm smiles and firm handshakes, their enthusiasm palpable. But as we approach one desk, I pick up on an odd vibe emanating from the woman seated there.

"Emma, this is Alison, our marketing manager and my second-in-command," Chloe says, gesturing to the striking brunette.

Alison looks up, her cool gaze assessing me from head to toe. There's a guardedness in her demeanor that sets her apart from the others' warm welcome. She offers a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod.

"Welcome to the team, Emma," Alison says, her tone polite but lacking warmth.

"Thanks, Alison. I'm thrilled to be here," I reply, trying to echo her professional air.

As we move on, I can't help but wonder about Alison's reserved nature. I make a mental note to tread carefully around her, sensing that there may be more to her than meets the eye.

Chloe leads me to my new cubicle, a cozy space already set up with a sleek computer and a Blizzards-themed mousepad. "So, as our new social media manager, your role is crucial in connecting with our fans and elevating the team's brand," she explains.

I nod, my mind already buzzing with ideas. "Absolutely. I'm thinking alongside content that informs, we create some video content that will inspire the fans, bring them back into how exciting and emotional hockey can be, and how much they love this team. Really forge those deep connections with the fans, you know?"

Chloe beams at me. "I love the way you think, Emma. With your creativity and the resources we have here, I have no doubt you'll take our online presence to new heights."

She outlines some exciting initiatives on the horizon: fan meet-and-greets, charitable partnerships, cross-promotions with local businesses. My imagination shifts into overdrive as I brainstorm ways to amplify these events on social.

Live QAs with players, behind-the-scenes peeks at community outreach, interactive challenges to engage fans in the team's mission—the possibilities are endless. I can hardly contain my excitement.

Social media management might not be everyone's idea of super meaningful work, but I know how transformative it can be. I love hockey, but I've never been able to play it because of my asthma. Instead, I've spent years following athletes and teams on social, connecting with them and rooting for them from afar.

I know first-hand how sports can get people through devastating, life-altering times. And how for some people, building communities online is as close as they'll ever get to having a family of their own.

"I can't wait to dive in and start bringing these ideas to life," I say, my voice brimming with enthusiasm.

Chloe places a hand on my shoulder, her eyes shining with approval. "I have a feeling you're going to do great things here, Emma. Welcome aboard."

As she leaves me to settle in, I take a deep breath, soaking in the energy of my new surroundings. This is it. My chance to make a real impact, to channel my love for hockey into something powerful.

I'm barely aware that there are even hot guys in the building.

Or at least that's the lie I'm choosing to tell myself right now.

No sooner has Chloe walked away than I dive headfirst into the season opener campaign, my mind racing with possibilities. I pull up stats on the team's performance last season, scroll through fan posts on Twitter and Instagram, and analyze what other teams have done for their kickoff campaigns.

Hours fly by as I get lost down the rabbit hole of research, the pieces of the puzzle slowly clicking into place. A hashtag to rally the fans. Behind-the-scenes videos of the players gearing up for the big game. Giveaway contests for signed jerseys and VIP experiences. It all starts to take shape, a crescendo building in my mind.

By the time I come up for air, the sun is setting outside the office windows. I lean back in my chair, a grin spreading across my face as I survey the presentation taking shape on my screen. This is it. This is how we reintroduce the Blizzards to the world and make them the team everyone's talking about.

The underdogs turned contenders, hungry for the championship.

I can practically hear the roar of the crowd already. My blood thrums with adrenaline, that familiar rush I always get when I know I'm on the brink of something great.

Dad always said that feeling was how he knew he was right where he belonged. On the ice, stick in hand, ready to make magic happen.

And now, here I am, finding my own magic. Different tools of the trade, but the same drive to leave a mark. To build something memorable.

I put the finishing touches on the campaign outline, every cell in my body buzzing with anticipation to share it with Chloe and the rest of the team.

"Emma! There you are," Chloe calls out, popping her head around the corner. "I was just about to head out. What do you say we cap off your first day with a tour of the practice facility? We only got to see what we walked by this morning, so I can give you a proper look at the space now."

"Sounds perfect," I reply, biting back the desire to say, even though I know my way around here pretty well! I log off and grab my coat. "Lead the way!"

We meander through the halls, and Chloe points out the various offices and conference rooms. But it's not until we reach the practice rink that the reality of where I am truly hits me. The chill in the air, the smell of fresh ice, the way our footsteps echo in the cavernous space—it's achingly familiar.

Memories flood back, vivid as ever.

Racing down here as a little girl, pigtails flying, to watch Dad and his players run drills. Sneaking sips of Gatorade and trying on helmets three sizes too big. Begging to stay for just five more minutes, even as my fingertips turned numb from the cold.

I close my eyes for a moment, fighting back a wave of emotion. I didn't realize how hard it might be to be back here, without my parents.

Just as Chloe and I are about to head back to the office, a burst of laughter catches our attention. We turn to see Lukas and Slade emerging from the locker room, playfully shoving each other as they make their way towards us.

Sweet lords of hockey hotness.

I knew I'd be seeing them around work, but I didn't expect to be ambushed by their combined sex appeal on day one. My breath catches in my throat as they approach, all tousled hair and boyish grins. Lukas's green eyes sparkle with mischief, while Slade's stormy gaze sends spark from my head to my toes.

Up close, their magnetism is even more potent.

Desire sparks over my skin, and I hope that my new boss can't see the heat creeping into my cheeks.

Chloe waves them over. "Guys, let me introduce you to our new social media manager, Emma! Emma, this is Lukas Dvorak and Slade Harrison."

Lukas's eyes widen with surprise as he reaches out to shake my hand. "Emma? Well, I'll be damned." His grip is firm, sending a jolt through me. "Fancy meeting you here."

I tilt my head, trying to play it cool despite my racing heart. "Have we met before?" I joke, trying very desperately not to think about the weight of his hand sliding up my thigh.

"Not officially." Lukas flashes a roguish grin. "But let's just say your reputation precedes you."

Slade steps forward, his gaze unraveling me. He takes my hand in his, his calloused fingers rubbing at my skin in a way that feels dangerous.

"It's a pleasure," Slade says, his eyes flickering in a way I can't quite read. "I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."

I have to bite my tongue so hard not to make a sex joke in front of Chloe. Yes, Slade, I would love to see a lot of you—all of you, in fact.

Instead, I duck my head, breaking eye contact with him and retracting my hand. My face is definitely aflame right now.

"I'm looking forward to working with you both." I take a breath and then realize I can't leave it like that. "And the rest of the team, of course!" I hurry to add.

"Of course," Lukas echoes with a smirk.

"We'll see you guys tomorrow," Chloe says, putting her hand on the small of my back and guiding me back toward the facility's exit.

"Nice, uh, meeting you!" I say, trying not to look over my shoulder at their hot, hot faces.

Talk about a recipe for disaster. I need to keep my head on straight and focus on my job, not get distracted by the tantalizing prospect of locker room hookups and steamy encounters.

What have I done to myself?!