Match Penalty: Coach’s Daughter Hockey Romance (The Rookie Hawkeyes Series Book 1)

‘Catch!’ Brynn calls out, tossing me a cucumber from across the kitchen of Brynn and my dad’s house in a gated community just outside of Seattle. Coach Haynes, and several other retired Hawkeyes players have houses here.

They bought this house when my dad retired, keeping Brynn’s apartment across from The Commons as Brynn’s writing sanctuary. They alternate between the apartment and house depending on the hockey schedule.

I snag the cucumber in both hands just in time before it tumbles to the floor, and then reach for the cutting board she’s laid out.

‘Your volleyball skills are still sharp,’ she notes, mixing something that smells like honey and oatmeal in a bowl. ‘Now slice that up for eye covers while I finish this base for our facemasks.’

I settle onto my usual bar stool at her massive kitchen island, watching as she scoops different ingredients from several bowls of natural ingredients all laid out. The familiar routine of our once-a-month Saturday girls’ night is already starting to ease some of the tension lingering after the slapshot preview a few days ago.

Soon, Juliet, Isla, and Penelope will be walking through that door, all wives of retired or current Hawkeyes players. Aria, Kendall, and I are the only three single ladies in the group, but Kendall is at some sports medicine conference this week, and Aria said she is putting in extra hours at the office this week in an attempt to dazzle Everett so he’ll see the value in having two assistants.

‘You know we could just buy masks from the store, right?’ I tease, carefully slicing the cucumber.

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ She tosses me a block of cheese next. ‘And have you ever read the ingredient list on the back of most of those? No thanks. These facemasks are so clean, we could eat them,’ she says, mixing up her green goop that smells surprisingly good. ‘While you’re being helpful, can you start on the charcuterie board after you’re done with the cucumber? The girls will be here soon.’

I begin arranging meats and cheeses and pre-slicing fruit, falling into comfortable silence as Brynn works her magic with the face mask ingredients. The quiet lasts approximately thirty seconds.

‘Are we going to talk about what happened at the preview two days ago? Or are we just going to pretend it didn’t happen like your dad is doing?” Brynn asks.

“He hasn’t talked to you about it yet?” I ask.

Brynn keeps stirring her goop, adding more ingredients to it. “Nope. He’s just walking around here like he didn’t just bet the new starting goalie to kick rocks if he loses. Do you realize how insane this is? And if JP wins this bet, he’s got a clean slate with your dad. That’s a big deal.”

The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board keeps a rhythm as I attempt to slice even cucumber rounds. ‘I know… and if dad wins, Penelope will never forgive me.’

And then JP will leave, and who knows if I’ll ever see him again.

‘So, what’s the real problem here? The bet itself, or the fact that he’s willing to risk everything for you?’ she asks, catching me off guard.

My knife stills on the cutting board. ‘Risk everything for me…?’ I ask, playing dumb.

‘Come on, Cammy. It’s pretty obvious what this is all about. That boy has it bad for you.’

My eyes lift up to hers. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Think about it, Cammy. Two other teams were offering him secure contracts. But he picked a PTO with the Hawkeyes—the hardest option. Why? Because this isn’t about hockey. It’s about proving himself to your dad. To you. Don’t you see what JP wants?’ she asks, looking up from her bowl of smashed avocado and whatever else she put in there.

I shake my head. “It’s not his last chance. Two other teams were ready to sign him. I’m sure he could still get one of those contracts even if he walked away from the Hawkeyes.”

“I don’t think you get it. He gave up signing with those teams for a PTO with the Hawkeyes. Now why would someone pass up a five year contract to try out for a team instead? “ She asks. “Unless he has other motives that maybe aren’t hockey related.”

Before I can tell her that she’s wrong, heavy footsteps sound on the stairs. My dad appears in the doorway, dressed casually in a pair of shorts, flip flops, and a Scallywag’s T-shirt, like he should be in Mexico at his beach house and not in the drizzly weather of Seattle as we move into late September and the pre-season.

‘Did I hear JP’s name?’ he asks, his expression darkening slightly.

‘We were just discussing the auction preview,’ Brynn says smoothly.

My dad turns to me. ‘Listen, Cam, I did what I did to protect you. Dumont’s skating on thin ice—literally. A guy like him doesn’t risk his career without an angle. Don’t let him drag you into his mess.’

‘He’s not trying to drag me into anything. You bet him his career, how does he back down from something like that? Everett is not going to be happy if he finds out about this bet you two made.”

My dad’s facial expression doesn’t change. It’s hard to threaten someone when they have nothing to lose. My dad is coaching the special teams because Coach Haynes begged him to.

‘Are you sure about that? He’s already made his move, Cam. Now it’s your turn to think about what happens if he loses.’

‘Seven,’ Brynn warns.

He raises his hands in surrender, pulling Milo off the counter and back into his arms. ‘Alright, alright. We’ll be in the man cave downstairs if you need us. Come on, buddy, let’s leave the ladies to their spa night. By the way, you looked good out there at that preview. You’re improving, kiddo.”

After a brief pause, he asks, ‘How’s the rest of the auction planning going?’ His tone suggests he’s really asking about JP.

‘It’s… going,’ I say carefully. ‘Lots of moving parts.’

‘Mmhmm.’ He studies me for a moment. ‘Just remember what I taught you about taking shots under pressure. Keep your head up, follow through—’noveldrama

‘And don’t let the goalie get in your head,’ I finish with him, earning a proud smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

‘It works on the ice but also everywhere else. You’re doing good. I’m proud of you for taking this on and helping Autumn and Briggs, and all the families that need these condos built,’ he says.

‘Thanks, Dad,’ I say.

He nods and then walks past Brynn, sticking his finger on the edge of the facemask bowl, swiping some onto his finger, and then sucking it off.

‘That’s delicious, baby. You could eat that with chips.’

Brynn beams back at his praise.

Just as he disappears down the basement stairs of the house to my dad’s man cave, the front door bursts open with enough force to rattle the wine glasses. Aria storms in, mascara streaking down her cheeks, her usual sweet as a peach, prim and proper, polished appearance completely undone. The bow in her low ponytail left askew. Something’s not right.

Brynn and I share a concerned look. We weren’t expecting her.

She’s supposed to be at the stadium putting in extra time.

‘What happened to you?’ Brynn asks, jogging around the island toward her.

‘He fired me,’ she announces, her voice cracking.

‘What do you mean he fired you? Weren’t you going into work today?’ I ask, jumping out of my seat and pulling out the one next to me for her.

She takes my offer and sits down, slumping in the chair.

Aria is as graceful as a swan, she never slumps.

‘I knew Everett didn’t see my worth. But you know what? I don’t regret putting myself out there. Better to take the risk than sit around wondering ‘what if.’’

Her words hit me harder than I want to admit. What if I’m too afraid to take the shot with JP? What if I’ve already missed it?

‘Oh, honey,’ Brynn rushes forward to the chair Aria is perched on, pulling her into a hug.

I point to the carrot in her hand. I know what she needs. ‘Do you want some wine to go with that?’

‘Got anything stronger?’ she asks.

‘That’s my girl. Coming up,’ I say and head for my dad’s office, where he keeps the good stuff.

The thought of Everett firing her has me thinking about my own situation with the slapshot bet. What if Everett finds out that I knew about this bet and didn’t prevent it from happening? I try to push off the thought for now. Maybe JP will win the slapshot and my concern will be for nothing.

Soon, the kitchen fills with the rest of our usual crew—Penelope, Juliet, and Isla, all bearing wine and sympathy for Aria. Brynn starts applying face masks to everyone while I finish the snack spread.

‘We should go to Ground Zero on Thursday. It’s ladies’ night,’ Isla, the wife of retired player Kaenan Altman, declares as Brynn smooths green clay over her cheeks. ‘A girl’s night out to help Aria forget about Everett, and we haven’t had a girl’s night out on the town in ages.’

The conversation shifts to planning our night out at Ground Zero, but I can’t shake Brynn’s words from earlier. A hockey player willing to risk his career for a chance with me. It should mean something—everything, really.

But then I remember Angelica’s name lighting up his phone after the slapshot, how quickly he left that night in San Diego, how he left my apartment after she called again last week, not giving me an explanation for what happened the night of the accident.

If JP wants to be with me so badly, why is she still in the picture? Why can’t he just tell me the truth about what happened? Or is he really the player my dad says he is?

‘Earth to Cammy,’ Penelope waves a hand in front of my face, snapping me from my thoughts. ‘You’re thinking too hard. I can see it through the face mask.’

I force a laugh, accepting the fresh glass of wine she offers. ‘Just planning my strategy for Monday and that long list of emails I need to get through.’

The wine and laughter should be enough to drown out my doubts. A hockey player risking everything for me? Maybe it’s not just a game to JP after all.