Puck Yes (My Hockey Romance #2) Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Tags Authors: Series: My Hockey Romance Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
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“No to the first, yes to the second. I took lessons, but never competitively or anything. Just for fun. I spent enough time at rinks when I was younger, and I didn’t want to sit on the sidelines.”

I don’t, either, when it comes to her.

In the months since Annika called off our engagement, I’ve been lonelier than I want to admit. I miss interesting company, and that day Ivy and I chatted in the park was the first time I’ve sparked with someone. I don’t know where it will lead. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines, either, when it comes to her.

“That’s my life motto, too, Ivy,” I say, keeping it simple.

She quirks a questioning brow. “Did I say it was my life motto?”

“No. But that’s what I heard.” We pass a series of framed photos of Avengers all-stars over the years, including yours truly.

She’s quiet for a beat, as if puzzling something out. “Maybe it should be.”

“I highly recommend it,” I say as we near the tunnel that’ll take us to the ice. If this convo keeps going well, I’ll use this chance to tell her I saw her pics on social and that I’d love to take her out for a drink.

Maybe then the long months ahead might be a little more interesting.

8

NUMBER18

Ivy

In the tunnel, I replay the last few things The Viking said. I thought we were discussing skating, but then it seemed like he was flirting.

Is he the Henley guy from earlier? The hopeful guy? A Henley’s a broad qualifier though.

The bigger concern about Stefan is, oh, you know, he has a freaking fiancée. My jaw ticks with irritation. Is this how Xander romanced Simone? Did he flirt with her while he was dating me?

“Are you still enjoying Pacific Heights?” he asks as we near the ice. “We were talking about a new Turkish café on Fillmore that you wanted to try when we last spoke.”

You were with another woman when we last talked.

But I bite back the words. I can’t be pissy with the team captain. That’s not a good look for the new mascot. “The café is great,” I say, with false cheer. I mean, the café is great. “And how’s everything with you?”

Maybe that will remind him he’s involved.

But his smile is pure flirtation. “I can’t complain about a thing. How’s your dog? Is she liking the neighborhood as well?”

That feels flirty too. He says it like we’re on a date. Like he’s checked out my personal social and all my pics with Roxy. What’s his deal?

“She’s a big fan.” It comes out cold, and that’s no good either. I try to let go of my annoyance at, well, men. “She’s practically the neighborhood mascot.”

When his crystal blue eyes meet mine, they glimmer. “A mascot and a mascot. I like that very much,” he says, full of charm but also something subtler. A late-night charm. A late-night gaze too.

Maybe he’s just being friendly. As the team captain, he’s the face of the team, does a ton of press interviews. It makes sense he’d want to chat with the mascot since I have to work the promo angle hard. I fasten on a professional smile. “Thanks again for the mascot protection services. They were much appreciated.”

“Anytime. I’d be happy to help,” he says. “Speaking of, would you—”

A deep, Barry White-esque voice calls from the rink. “Oh good, you’re here.”

I snap my gaze to a lithe man in a purple turtleneck and leggings who’s skating to me at the edge of the rink. “I’m Moses, head of the Ice Crew. You must be Ivy. There are skates for you on the bench. Lace up and come join us.”

“I’d love to,” I say, then I turn back to Stefan, ready to put my uncertainty and frustration behind me. I can’t make enemies. I need this job. When he hands me the costume, I take it with a smile. “Thanks for walking with me.”

“I’m here for all your needs,” he says in a smooth, sexy voice that has me questioning everything.

Especially since he’s already walking away in that damn Henley.

At home that night, I try out a baked feta pasta recipe that Aubrey sent me and try to make sense of this afternoon at the rink. Going from Hayes to Stefan felt a little like whiplash. One guy was all I want you but can’t have you, and the other was pure charm. As I set the dish in the oven, Roxy stares forlornly up at me, attempting to use cuteness to sway me to enlist her as a taste tester.

“You can’t do that to me. I have no willpower when it comes to your face,” I say, then tell her to “strike a pose.”

She turns to the side, giving me her best three-quarter profile. “There. Now I’m not spoiling you,” I say, then give her a tiny piece of cheese. “This is just compensation for the user experience you provide.”



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