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Me: You’re going to kill it. I know it.

KT: If so, more research could be necessary. You know, to determine how accurate your theory is.

Me: Exactly. Besides, I know how invested you are in the success of the Hawks.

KT: That’s true.

KT: I suppose we might be able to arrange something.

I grinned, unable to wipe the smile from my face. I loved texting with Logan after a game, especially when it involved flirting. It might be one of my favorite rituals.

Me: I’m happy to hear that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to see us succeed.

KT: 100%

I laughed to myself, pushing Boone away when he tried to lean over to peer at my phone screen.

“Oh, come on,” Boone pouted. “I’m dying here. You two are so hot.”

I tapped out another text to Logan.

Me: Boone is asking to be included in our repeat of the other night. You know *for luck.* But I already told him that isn’t happening.

When her response came through, I almost fell off the bench I was laughing so hard.

“What?” Boone asked. “What?”

“KT says you’ll have to find someone else to play with. And that you should consider this payback for all the times you said she wasn’t real.”

I showed him the screen where an image of Logan was displayed in black and white. You couldn’t see her face, but her mouth was visible, lips parted. Her middle finger rested on her plump bottom lip, the tip of it disappearing into her mouth in a way that was both defiant and sexy as fuck.

“Oh fuck.” He held a fist to his mouth, a smile building behind his hand. “I think I like her even more now.”

I was pretty sure I did too.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

May

Iturned away as someone passed by on the sidewalk, slowing briefly as if they recognized me. But then I realized they were just waiting for their dog to stop sniffing at every random thing in the vicinity.

After they’d passed, I tugged on the brim of my baseball hat to keep it low over my face. According to Georgia—and the tracking app on her phone—Logan was headed this way. I felt as if I might jump out of my skin.

I’d flown to Minnesota this morning, intent on surprising Logan. It was the day before the game that would determine the winner of the Walter Cup—the ultimate prize in the PWHL. I’d had to beg Coach Cross for permission to take an overnight trip during my own play-offs, and it hadn’t been easy. Fortunately, Georgia had helped, convincing her brother Daniel, our GM, that it was essential for me to miss a day of practice during the most important time of the year.

I didn’t know what she’d told him. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But honestly, at this point, I would’ve done anything to spend time with Logan.

Play-off season was exhausting and exciting and stressful and filled with uncertainty, but Logan centered me. It didn’t matter how busy we were, we connected at least once a day, if not more. Regardless of everything else going on, I always checked in, wanting her to know that I was thinking about her, that I was there for her.

We were both focused on our careers, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t support each other.

I hadn’t seen her since Frasier and Bryn’s baby shower in LA last month, but Logan had been on my mind constantly. When we weren’t texting about hockey, comparing notes about the play-offs, or sending each other tips, we were sharing funny memes, discussing our favorite books and movies. It was fun, friendly, flirty.

Hockey first. No strings. No drama. Exactly like she’d asked.

Things had gone back to usual—for the most part.

Technically, we hadn’t touched each other since that night. But we’d definitely skirted the “only one night” rule over the past few weeks, thanks to our new pregame ritual. So far, my luck theory had been correct, though we continued to “research” its validity. We were nothing if not thorough.