Pucking Sweet: An MMF Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 3)

“Well, shit.” Lukas is still standing next to me, and we’re still in this freaking mop closet. He puts his hand on my shoulder, his expression serious. “Do you need a fast exit? We can go through the gym to the parking garage. She never has to know you were here.”

I search his face. “Why would you help me?”

“Seriously?” He turns to Colton. “Is she serious?”

“She’s serious,” Colton replies with a nod, arms crossed.

“Pop, you’re a Ray,” Lukas explains. “And that boyfriend-stealing witch is probably only here to rub your nose in it. Well, I say fuck her. Coley can get you out of here, and I’ll get the rookies to key her car.”

“Oh, Lukas, enough.” I shift out from under his hand. “We are not keying my sister’s car.”

“Then what do you want us to do—”

“Nothing,” I snap at him. “I won’t have her pranked or punk’d or whatever it is you have planned in that crazy head.” I brush past Colton, stepping out into the hallway.

“What are you gonna do then?” Lukas calls after me.

“I’m going to go out there and talk to her like an adult,” I say over my shoulder. They follow me, elbowing each other. “Don’t you both have some weights to lift or pasta to eat or something?”

“Nope,” Lukas replies, a fresh spring in his step.

“I’m free for the rest of the day,” Colton echoes.

“Well, if you think I’m introducing you to my sister, think again,” I warn them.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Lukas replies. “I can introduce myself.”

I stop and spin around. They nearly crash into me. I glare up at them, hands on my hips. “I don’t know what you think you know about the situation, but trust me, you’re both wrong.”

Lukas glances warily over at Colton, then back to me. “So, you weren’t engaged to that DC prep school-looking asshole?”

I sigh. “No, I was.”

“And he’s not currently engaged to your sister?” says Colton.

“No, he is. But—”

“Did you call it off, or did he?” Lukas says over me.

My gaze darts between their serious faces. “I don’t see how that’s any of your gosh darn business. We are not friends.” I point between the three of us. “This is not some cozy little knitting circle where I share my dark secrets, and you share your jam recipes.”

“Actually, I can knit,” says Colton.

Lukas and I both look at him. “Wait, seriously?” Lukas asks.

“Yeah, it’s good for dexterity,” Colton replies with a shrug. “And I’ve got some dementia up my mom’s side of the family tree so…”

“Smart,” Lukas mutters. “We talking crochet? You out here clicking the needles, bud?”

“Just lumpy hats and scarves.”

“Sweet. Can I have one?”

“Ohmygod,” I cry, throwing up my hands.

They both look down at me.

“Cool it, Pops,” Lukas teases. “The man’s allowed to have a hobby.”

I take a deep breath and let it out. “Colton, I’m very happy for you and your lumpy hats. But if you’ll both excuse me, I have to go confront my spoiled little sister in the middle of this impossibly busy workday. I’ve already lost precious minutes being smothered by Lukas’s cologne in that supply closet.” I march off down the hall, heels clicking. “And it’s still not any of your freaking business, but I dumped him!”

Their shoes squeak on the polished tile floor as they race to catch up with me.

I lead the way down the hall, through the security door, and into the bright atrium. There’s a two-story wall of glass that lets in all that warm Florida sunshine. A small fountain bubbles in the corner. The atrium echoes with laughter. I recognize Violet’s high, pealing notes.

And there she is, standing by the coffee cart, iced coffee in one hand, gesturing in the air with the other as she tells an animated story. She’s taller than me by a couple inches, and her hair is white blonde compared to my golden yellow. She’s curvier too. I got the pixie body like our Nana. She has Mom’s generous hips and thighs.

I take in her fresh blowout, her belted Lily Pulitzer dress and chunky Hermès Oasis sandals. She does know this is a hockey rink in Jacksonville, right? Not Worth Avenue in Palm Beach?

“And then I—oh—Poppy,” she squeals, waving me over.

The small crowd of hockey guys standing around her parts, making way for me. Even Jenni and the Johns are there, John Two munching on biscotti.

Taking a deep breath, I smooth my hands down the front of my lilac sheath dress. Plastering a smile on my face, I cross the atrium. Violet dances forward, her free hand outstretched to wrap me in a one-armed hug. She squeezes me, and I get a lungful of Dior.

“Are you surprised?” she says, shifting her hold on me to my hand. “Please, tell me you’re surprised. Oh! Your hair looks so pretty like this.” She nods at the artfully messy braid resting on my shoulder.

“Thanks.”

I know what she’s doing. She doesn’t want me to get away. Not before she’s had her say. I glance down, noting the giant sparkling diamond on her ring finger. It’s princess cut, easily four carats, with a white gold band. Anderson put it there. Did he get down on one knee? Did she pick it out herself? I can feel every eye in the atrium watching us. Oh gosh, they can’t all possibly know, can they?

Keep it together, Poppy.

“Well, were you surprised?” she says again.

“So surprised,” I manage to say.

“I had no choice. You’re impossible to get ahold of these days,” she chides, squeezing my hand. “A girl can go gray waiting to hear back from you.”

Lukas appears at my side, one hand on my shoulder. “I just said the same thing.” He sticks out his other hand around me. “Hi, Lukas Novikov, friend of Poppy’s.”

Friend? That’s a bit of stretch, seeing as I’m the utterly forgettable one-time mistake he just legally silenced.

She drops my hand, and her eyes go wide as she takes him in, clearly appreciating his physique. She traces the tattoos on his arm with her gaze, and I fight the urge to step in front of him. “Are you a hockey player too?” she asks, shaking his hand.

“Sweetheart, I’m the player,” he says with a wink.

She grins, her blue eyes twinkling.

“He’s a player, and he was just leaving.” I push on his arm. “You were all just leaving, right?” I call out to the guys.

A few of them mumble about wanting to order coffee.

“Your coffee is in your hand, honey,” I say at Cade Walsh, pointing to the cup he’s holding.

“Oh, don’t send them away,” says Violet. “I came because I wanted to meet your friends and see this glamorous new life you’ve made for yourself.”

“Did you hear that?” Paul jokes. “Malibu Barbie thinks we’re glamorous.”

“I do have a certain panache,” Flash says with a nod.

“Dude, you can’t even spell panache,” says Cade.

Flash elbows him as the others laugh.

Colton moves quietly around them, weaving his way back over from the coffee cart. He slips a drink in my hand, and I check the little tea tag. Green tea with lemon. How did he know? I clutch to the cup like it’s a lifeline and loop my arm in with Violet’s. I am not doing this in front of an audience. “Okay, time to say ‘goodbye’ to Malibu Barbie, fellas.”

A few of them groan. Others wave.

“Bye, Barbie.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too!” She waves over her shoulder. “Such nice guys.”

“Yeah, they’re great,” I mutter, pulling her over to where Jenni and the Johns are standing. “I’m so sorry about this,” I say at Jenni. “My sister just surprised me and—”

“Oh, don’t be. Family comes first,” she assures me. “We’re just glad we got to meet you in person before the event. We can’t wait for Saturday.”

“It’s gonna be a smash,” says John One.

“What’s Saturday?” asks Violet, sipping her iced coffee.

“A fundraiser,” I reply.

“If anything else comes up this week, we’ll talk,” Jenni says in parting. “Otherwise, we’ll see you all over at the art museum!”

I walk them to the door, leaving Violet in the middle of the atrium. As soon as they’re beyond the wall of glass, I slowly turn to face her. Most of the players are still mingling by the coffee cart, Colton and Lukas chief among them. They’re watching me like a pair of hawks. What are they waiting for, some kind of signal to swoop in and shove my sister in the fountain?

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Striding forward in my Jimmy Choo pink patent leather pumps, I loop my arm back in with Violet’s. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away.” I lead her into the main practice rink where the temperature drops a cool fifteen degrees. Out on the ice, a mix of skating lessons are happening. A few parents sit clustered in the middle of the stands, distracted by their own conversations.

“Ooh, it’s chilly in here,” Violet whines.

“It’s figure skating. They do that on ice.” I stomp up the metal stairs, pulling her behind me. I plop down on an empty stretch of bench and tug her down next to me. “What do you want, Violet? Why are you here?”

Her pink lips part as she searches my face. For a moment, she almost looks nervous. “I just…wanted to see you.”

“Then look at a picture of me. I’m sure you have some on your phone.”

She flicks her silky hair off her shoulder. “Fine. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, clearly, if I wanted to talk to you, I would’ve answered one of your many calls or texts this last week.”

Her icy blue eyes narrow. “Are we seriously gonna do it like this? Can’t we just talk like sisters? Poppy, we used to be so close.”

False. Christina and I were close. Violet was three years younger and Mom’s spoiled favorite. I clutch my cup of tea, glaring at her. “You had the last two years to talk to me, Vi. You could have told me the truth at any point.”

“And risk breaking your heart all over again? I was protecting you, Popcorn.”

Not her using my childhood nickname to twist the freaking knife. Rowan made it up. They’re the only two people who still call me that. I brush past the nostalgia with a wave of my hand. “Look, I’m not some delicate flower that can’t handle the world, okay? You want to wear the crown and scale Olympus with Anderson? Fine. I can’t stop you. I can warn you,” I add with a firm look. “But I can’t stop you.”

“He’s not all bad, Pop.”

“He’s worse. You’re just delusional.” I set my tea aside. I’m too frazzled to drink it.

“You know, he has some not-so-nice opinions about you too.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“And it takes two people to end a relationship.”

“I think in our case it was more like five,” I clap back. “Those are just the other women I knew about, including the stripper at his bachelor party.”

“God, Poppy. That was three years ago.”

“And yet, here we are,” I say gesturing between us.

Her cheeks glow pink with a mix of the cold and her rising frustration. “Can’t you at least try to be just a little bit happy for me? I’m getting married, Poppy. And I’m doing this for us, you know. For the family—”

“Seriously? We’re not the freaking Medicis, Vi. We’re not the Vanderbilts or even the Kennedys. Mom’s world is fading fast. The rules are changing. We don’t have to play those awful social-climbing games anymore.”

She shakes her head. “You’re not around anymore. You don’t know what it’s like—”

“I know you should marry who you want. Or heck, don’t get married at all!”

She snorts. “Yeah, like that’s an option.”

I grab her hand, squeezing it. “It is, Violet. I’ll admit, it took me a long time to deprogram myself from Mom’s world, but I know this much to be true. The last thing on this earth you should ever do is bind yourself to a man who cannot and will not hold to a single vow he makes to you.”

She jerks her hand free. “He’s different with me than he was with you.”

“No, he’s really not.”

“People can grow, Poppy. Are you saying we’re all incapable of change?”

“I’m saying he is.”

She huffs, crossing her arms.

“Vi, he has no inducement to change,” I go on, praying she’ll hear me. “And besides, do you really want to be in the business of changing people? He has to be allowed to be exactly who he is, honey. The only changing he’ll ever do is the changing he wants to do for himself. Hard to accomplish when you already think you’re perfect.”

She turns away, watching the little girls in their leggings and sweaters learning to figure skate. We’re both quiet for a minute. “Do you ever wish you could turn back the clock and be eighteen again?”

I watch her watch the girls spin. “Why?”

“Life just felt so much easier. I was just traveling and partying, making amazing memories with great friends. It was like one big dream.”

“I can’t say I relate,” I mutter, snatching up my tea and taking a sip. It’s sweet and soothing, a perfect blend.

Vi glances over at me. “You didn’t take a gap year?”

“Mom wouldn’t let me. It would’ve interfered with my cross country schedule. I qualified for nationals, but then I hurt my knee. Either way, I was on scholarship. You don’t graduate summa cum laude if you’re sailing on a yacht in the Mediterranean for a year.”

She looks back out at the skaters. “We’ve lived such different lives.”

I hum into my tea. “Yeah, we sure have.”

“I’m sorry, Poppy.”

I go still, not daring to look at her. “For what?”

She just shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t really know. Everything? Nothing? Does that count as an apology?”

“Not really.”

She’s quiet for another minute. “I think I was always jealous.”

“Of what?”

She tucks her hair behind her ear, still not looking at me. “Mom never pushed me the way she pushed you because she knew I wasn’t worth it.”

Silence meets her confession. After a moment, I place a hand on her thigh. “Violet…”

“Oh, come on. You know it’s true.” She blinks back her tears. “I mean, look around us. You’re Poppy, the high-powered sports executive with the scholarships and the trophies. I’m just Violet. I’m the fun sister. The life of the party. No one expects me to amount to anything.”

“Hey, come on now. You’re smart and beautiful and everyone thinks the world of you.”

She nods, but I can tell she’s unconvinced. “I just want my life to matter too, you know? I want to do something meaningful. I want people to look at me and not see all my wasted potential.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Am I? Well, what do I have to call my own, Pop? What do I offer the world? I can’t run Daddy’s company like Rowan, and I’m not organized enough to manage nonprofits like you. I certainly can’t explain the merits of Surrealist art.”

“Well, who can, really?” I say with a weak smile.

Slowly, she looks down at her hand. Then she lifts it, wiggling her fingers to make the diamond glint under the arena lights. “This feels like something I can do. I can make a fabulous match. I can be a good wife who throws great parties and has impeccable fashion sense.”

“Vi, you can be so much more—”

“No, you can be more. Poppy, you are more. You and Anderson were a bad fit from the start because you were never meant to be the one on his arm.” Reaching up, she tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. I lean away from the intimate touch. “I think you were so miserable together because, deep down, he knew it too.”

“Knew what?”

“He knew if he married you, he’d spend the rest of his life being on your arm,” she replies, cutting me to the quick. “Your star is just too bright not to shine, and he’s too selfish to be a mirror for someone else’s light.”

I search her face, my heart breaking. “Well, Vi, honey, if you know all this about him, why are you marrying him?”

“Because this is how I shine. This is my chance, Poppy. I’m not looking for perfect. I’m just looking for a chance to matter.”

“And you’re sure? I mean really really sure this is the way you wanna go?”

She gives me a solemn nod. Her fake smile is finally gone. I can see her now. I see my sweet little sister who danced in the living room with me to The Nutcracker and called me “Popcorn.” No walls, no masks. I see her hopes and her fears. “Poppy, I have to ask you something. Please don’t hate me for it, okay?”

I take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What, honey? Anything.”