Pucking Around: A Why Choose Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 1)
Pucking Around: Chapter 15

Mars Kinnunen might just be the most intimidating man I’ve ever seen. I thought the man looked big from across the ice. In person, he’s a giant. Then he took that mask off, and my stomach flipped.

Jake and Caleb are pretty boys—perfect jaws, cheekbones for days, the floppy jock hair. All-American athletes. But Mars is…wild. He looks like the toughest guy on a hockey team had sex with a Viking and made a super baby.

He’s got a full blond beard an inch long, trimmed longer under the chin. The rest of his hair is shaved to the skin around his nape, leaving a full head of unruly blond hair at his crown long enough to pull back into a messy knot.

His features are rugged too—his nose sits a little crooked at the bridge, likely from a break; his left brow is scarred in two places. But he has the most beautiful ocean blue eyes, piercing in their intensity. I felt like he was staring into my soul as he scowled at me.

I shake my head with a soft laugh. This has certainly been an interesting first day.

I catch up with Tyler in his office to grab my backpack and he introduces me to Hillary, the team nurse. She’s a lovely, older lady with curly grey hair and kind eyes. She’ll be responsible for scheduling my appointments.

“We’ve got an office ready for you down here,” she says, leading me towards the gym. “It’s easiest to catch the guys during their strength and condition time, so we have a few exam rooms set up right off the floor. It’s a bit like herding sheep,” she adds with a chuckle. “Sometimes you just gotta stick your crook out and snag one. I’ve found the easiest way to get them to come willingly is to catch them on the treadmill. You show me a hockey player who likes the treadmill, and I’ll show you a liar.”

I laugh. “Strong treadmill avoidance. Got it.”

I can already hear the clank and jangle of workout equipment over the boom of loud rock music.

“They’re usually good about turning it down if you can’t hear yourself think,” she calls over the music, pulling open a glass door.

“Wow,” I murmur, stepping inside.

The facility is amazing. You wouldn’t know it from the somewhat nondescript hallway, but the room opens into a gymnasium-like space spread over two levels. There’s the main floor which is all for weightlifting. Several guys are milling around, doing reps and spotting each other. Most are players, but the guys in polos must be the strength and conditioning team.

A wall of glass lined with treadmills to my right lets the guys look down on the main practice rink. It’s already been cleared from the exhibition game, and it looks like figure skating lessons are happening now. Upstairs is a running track.

“All the therapy equipment is through there,” Hillary says, pointing to a large set of open doors to the left. “We’ve got hot and cold tubs, massage tables and chairs, all the PT equipment you could want, space for stretching. And our corner of the world is right here,” she finishes with a wave of her hand at a set of three doors along the wall.

She opens the first door and stands back. I peek my head in. It’s just a windowless broom closet with a desk and a chair. Frankly, I’ve worked in smaller spaces. Behind us, there’s hooting and clamoring as someone cuts the music.

“Whoa—”

“Guys!”

“Hey Jacobs, is this the new doc?”

“Hot Doc spotted!”

“New doc on the block!”

All the guys are shouting and laughing as they abandon their equipment.

Hillary rolls her eyes at me. “Ignore them. They go after new staff like dogs with a bone.”

One of the guys shoots straight for me, his face a sweaty mess. He looks young, bright eyed and friendly. “Hey, Doc,” he says, holding out his hand. “Ryan Langley, forward.”

“Yes, you are,” Hillary says. “Get back, before you soak us with your sweat.”

I just laugh, taking his sweaty hand and giving it a shake. “Rachel Price.”

“Rachel,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Her name’s Rachel,” a guy echoes, and then all the guys are saying it.

“Price,” Hillary corrects them. “Her name is Doctor Price to you.”

A big guy with a shaved head elbows Langley out of the way. “Cole Morrow, Doc. Best damn defenseman in the League.”

The guys all laugh as I shake his hand next.

“Yeah, you wish Coley. What’s your EA ranking now?” someone shouts.

Morrow scowls at him, giving his shoulder a good-natured slug.

The guy laughs and I can’t help but smile to see his two missing front teeth. Hockey truly is a brutal sport. “I’m Gerard,” he says.

“Hey, J-Lo, get outta the way!”

I smirk up at him with a raised brow. “J-Lo?”

He just shrugs. “My name is Jean-Luc, and the guys are assholes.”

“Oh, don’t get salty, J-Lo. You know we love you!”

“Alright, enough,” calls one of the surlier looking strength and conditioning coaches. “Leave the doc alone, and get back to your reps. Now.”

“Welcome to the team, Doc,” the cute blond says with a cocky grin.

They all amble away, still laughing and shoving each other. I just smile, shaking my head. Boys may grow into men, but they never really grow up.

“How long will the hazing last?” I say, glancing at Hillary.

She purses her lips. “With how pretty you are? My guess is forever.”

“Great,” I mutter.

This is going to be the longest ten months of my life.

As if I needed direct confirmation of that statement, my phone pings with a message. Then another.

CALEB (2:07PM): I had nothing to do with this. Asshole took my phone

UNKNOWN (2:07PM): And now I have your number. Just face it, we’re inevitable, Seattle

That message is followed up with a picture of Jake giving ‘fuck me’ eyes. Then a second of him with Caleb in a headlock.

I groan. Just slather me with butter and jam because I am so fucking toast.