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

“So,” Aleksi says, his beer bottle halfway to his mouth, sitting on the armchair to the left of me in my living room. Hunter and I are going head-to-head on an old school fighting game that was popular in Finland years ago. “You coming out tonight to Ground Zero with us or what?”

“It’s the dance club the girls are going to tonight to cheer up Aria. Cammy’s going,” he says, waggling his eyebrows as if to encourage me.

Hearing her name spikes the dopamine receptors in my brain.

I take a long pull from my beer, buying time. The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about yesterday—about how natural it felt walking through Pike’s Place with her, sharing stories over pizza, seeing her smile. About how close I came to kissing her.

My pulse ticks up at the thought of her being there. Out of the office. Relaxed. Maybe even happy. I tell myself it’s curiosity. Nothing more.

My imagination instantly conjures up a dozen mental images I have no business entertaining. Her in some kind of short dress. Her hair loose, her smile lighting up the room. Probably surrounded by guys who don’t have to fight their past just to stand next to her.

He leans back in his chair and takes another long swig of beer. “But hey, don’t come if you don’t want to. More room for me to swoop in.”

Hunter snorts from his spot at the bar. “He’s baiting you to come,” he tells me. “Nice try, Mäk. We all know you’ve got eyes for the good doctor.”

Dr. Kendall Hensen—the new Hawkeyes in-house doctor after Dr. Omar retired at the end of last season.

Hunter leans in toward me, both of us still focused on the game in front of us. “Word is, Kendall is back from her conference, and she’s going out with the girls. Mäk doesn’t want to go alone—needs an entourage.”

Aleksi shoots a glare in his direction and then tosses a mini basketball at his shoulder. It bounces off, and Hunter laughs.

“Tell me I didn’t see you in Kendall’s office using the full-length skeleton like a ventriloquist. Making jokes about the funny bone.”

We all laugh, except for Aleksi who’s sort of sulking in his chair. “I get nervous, okay? She’s beautiful, and every time I go to see her—”

Scottie Easton’s voice breaks through from the kitchen, cutting him off. “He starts jabbering like a buffoon and won’t shut the hell up.”

“Shut up, East.” Aleksi snarls.

“No, you shut up, Mäk. I had to wait for twenty minutes and listen to you go on and on about how scientists believe that Pluto is just one giant space ice fart, while you were taking up my weekly check-in appointment,” Scottie says, a large bowl of cereal in his hands, as if he hadn’t just demolished two burgers and a side of BBQ ribs thirty minutes ago at lunch. “I just about stabbed my eyes out with my own thumbs to numb the pain of extreme secondhand embarrassment. You make it a goddamn art form.’

Aleksi scoffs at Scottie and then looks over at me. “Forget him. So, are you in?”

Who the hell am I kidding? I’m not going to say no to being in the same room as the woman I can’t stop thinking about.

“Yeah,” I say as the game ends, kicking Hunter’s ass for the third time this week. He mutters “motherfucker” and tosses the controller on the couch.

The truth is, seeing Cammy in the middle of a dance floor and being the only guy in the room that she won’t let touch her is going to be painful. God help me for what I’m capable of if some prick walks up and thinks he’s going to grind up against her on the dance floor right in front of me.

On second thought… Maybe it’s better that I don’t go. The last thing I need is another mugshot and Angelica coming down to bail me out of jail for a second time, even if the first time wasn’t my fault.

Aleksi claps his hands together like he’s won something. “That’s the spirit, Dumont. Ziegler’s meeting us there, and Hartley doesn’t have a sitter for Adeline, so he’s out.”

“Hunter… you in?” Mäkelin asks, pointing to him.

Hunter stands up off the couch. “I’ll go. But no breakdancing this time, Mäkelin, or I swear I’m not taking you to the emergency room again.”noveldrama

Then Aleksi looks at Scottie. “What about you? You in, East?”

I glance over to see Scottie topping off his bowl of cereal for the second time. “Can I bring the bowl?”

Aleksi shrugs, “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

An hour later, the music at Ground Zero is deafening. Strobe lights flash across the packed dance floor, highlighting sweaty bodies and wild grins. There’s only one thing I’m here for. When I spot her across the room, I forget all about the crowd. There’s only one thing in here I want.

A woman walks up and grabs my hand, gripping it with both of hers, attempting to pull me toward the dance floor. “You’re cute. Dance with me!” she says, yelling over the music.

“Sorry, I’m with someone,” I tell her, and then twist my hand out of her grip.

She looks disappointed for a second, and then her eyes slide to the guy behind me—Hunter—and her eyes light back up.

“No problem,” she says. “I’ll take him.”

She pulls him toward the dance floor, and he goes willingly.

Aleksi wanders off too, leaving Scottie and I to search for an open table.

I catch the sight of Wolf, sitting at a large table already with beers ready to go. He waves us over.

In a matter of minutes, I glance out from my spot at the table, a cold beer in my hand. Wolf and Scottie are deep diving into puck theory, now with diagrams drawn on napkins.

Hunter’s moved on from the blonde, already charming his way into dancing with three different women with that easy smile of his. He’s in his element here.

Aleksi is attempting what he claims is dancing, but it looks more like he’s having a seizure. I could care less about my teammates inability to dance because my attention keeps drifting to her.

Cammy’s dancing with Aria and Kendall on the dance floor while Brynn, Penelope, and Isla are taking shots at the bar.

She’s beautiful. No surprise there.

Anyone can see that, but seeing her like this—relaxed, happy, free—it hits differently. Makes me want to be a part of that somehow.

‘You’re staring,’ Aleksi says, sliding onto one of the barstools at the table.

‘I’m not,’ I lie.

‘Right.’ He follows my gaze. ‘You haven’t taken your eyes off her since we got here.’

I don’t bother arguing. We both know he’s right.

“I haven’t seen you make a move with Dr. Hensen yet.” I counter.

He looks over his shoulder. “Soon. I need to warm up.”

I laugh, looking around to see the first round of beers are gone. “Want a beer? I’m going up to the bar to get another round,” I offer.

“Sure, thanks,” he says, distracted by the diagram that Wolf has drawn as he gets sucked into their conversation.

I move through the crowd, but it’s not easy. This place is packed for a Thursday night, but I guess Ladies’ Night is a solid marketing gimmick.

When I finally make it through the crowd, I see the bar, at least three people deep around the entire perimeter. Six bartenders are working as fast as they can to fill drink orders. I see an opening as a small group moves away from the bar, and I slide in, beating out a few others. The crowd fills in quickly around me.

‘Sorry… umm… excuse me,’ a familiar voice says, and my whole body tenses.

Cammy.

She’s trying to squeeze in a few feet down the line from me without any success. Most everyone else is in the same position as she is, waiting for their drink order. She still hasn’t seen me.

I can see the bartender on his way down the line—I’m up next.

I glance over to see Cammy moving down the line, trying to find another spot to get in, but she seems flustered. Just then, someone bumps into her, almost tripping her up in those four inch heels of hers.

I whip an arm out and reach around her, my hand gripping her hip, yanking her to me. She crashes against my chest—the heat of her body radiating into my skin. She makes a cute squeaking noise, and I see the moment she notices her green hair band around my wrist, causing her eyes to shoot up finding mine—recognition flashing across her eyes.

‘It’s you?” she says as relief settles over her. ‘What are you doing?’

She doesn’t pull away from me like I half expect her to.

‘Helping,’ I say close to her ear, my cheek against her soft hair and my thumbs brushing against her hip bones, before I reach out for the bar. “This place is a zoo. Let me help.”

Before she can argue, one of the people to our left loses their balance, causing me to cage her in with my arms as I press my palms to the bar, holding them off of bumping into her. The move has her flush against me, her back fitting perfectly against my chest. She freezes.

“Relax,” I say. “Just keeping the animals at bay.”

She hesitates, then relaxes slightly against me. ‘Thanks. I didn’t think I was ever going to get through.’

The bartender turns to us with a look that says he hates Ladies’ Night. “What can I get for you?”

“Whatever she wants,” I tell him.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

The guys can wait. I look over my shoulder, to find that everyone is preoccupied. No one is waiting on a beer.

“None of us are in a hurry. Ladies first.”

A small smile pulls at her lips before she turns back to the bartender and bends forward to order, getting closer so the bartender can hear her.

Her ass presses against my crotch in our tight proximity.

I muffle out a groan at the feel of her ass pushing against me.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” she asks after she makes her order, seeing me grimace. She has no idea what she just did, and I won’t tell her.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it. Did you get your order in?” I ask. Since I was preoccupied trying not to get hard and have Cammy running for the hills, I missed every word she told the bartender when she ordered.

I feel the heat of her through the thin material of her dress, the smell of her light floral perfume and sweat from her dancing. It would be so easy to pull her closer. To wrap my arms around her and lay a kiss on her bare shoulder, then imprint my lips on every inch of her beautiful neck. But I’m still on thin ice with her, and doing something like that will only push her further away.

‘Thanks,’ she says when her drinks arrive.

He gives her the price, and I slap my card down before she can reach wherever she’s keeping money in that tiny dress. If we were somewhere alone, I’d be happy to find out exactly where she puts it, myself.

“JP,” she says, turning to argue, but the bartender takes the card and is already gone. “You don’t have to do that. We can buy our own drinks.”

The sound of her finally saying my nickname hits me—JP.

Off her lips, it sounds like an angel. My angel.

“You just called me JP.”

She stalls for a second, her eyes searching mine. “I guess we’re not at the office, so… I don’t know, maybe it just slipped out.”

“I like it when you call me that. It’s worth every penny of the highway robbery prices here,” I tell her with a grin.

She smiles back. “We can pay you back. None of the girls are going to expect you to pay for these.”

I shake my head. “I’ve got it—I promise.”

“Thank you… again.”

‘Anytime,’ I manage, fighting the urge to lean down and taste the words on her lips.

The bartender returns, and Cammy turns back.

She slips away before I can do something stupid, disappearing back into the crowd with her friends. I order a round of beers, but I know the bartender is going to make me wait longer this time, since I gave up my place in line.

It doesn’t matter, as long as I can see her from where I’m standing.

Another ten minutes later, I get the beers and head back to the table, when I notice immediately that something has changed. She is over at her table, and all of the girls are standing with her. Her smile fades, and she presses a hand to her stomach. I’m moving before I can think better of it.

‘Cammy?’ I reach out for her. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ she insists, laying her hand on my arm like she needs me for stability. Her face suddenly pales, the carefree glow from earlier is gone, replaced by a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. She stumbles slightly, and my instincts kick in before she can hit the ground. ‘I just need some air.’

‘She mixed her drinks,’ Kendall explains. ‘Shots, a sugary martini, and then wine. She’s not feeling well. I tried to see if she wants to go to the bathroom with me but—”

“I’ll just get a cab and go home. You girls stay,” she says.

‘I’ve got her,’ I tell Kendall, Brynn, and Aria, who are all hovering. I wrap an arm around Cammy’s waist. ‘I’ll make sure she gets home safe.’

Brynn eyes me carefully, then nods. ‘Text me when you get her settled?’

“I will.”

I pull her with me, spotting Scottie getting up to head to the bathroom. He sees me and asks, “You two okay?”

I nod. “I’m taking her home. Can you and the guys make sure that all the Hawkeyes girls get home safe?”

He nods. “Of course. We’ll make sure of it.”

I help Cammy outside, grateful for the cool night air. She leans heavily against me as we wait for a cab, and I try not to think about how right she feels in my arms.

It’s fucked up to be enjoying that, for once, she’s not fighting me.

‘I don’t feel so good,’ she mumbles against my chest.

‘I know,’ I say softly. ‘Let’s get you home.’

“And this is annoying.” She pushes her hair out of her face a couple of times.

“Your hair?”

She nods, and then I remember that I have a way to fix that, though I’ve never done this before. I reach around her, pulling her green hair tie off my wrist, and then try to gather every strand together on the top of her head. It looks like a bird’s nest with perfectly curled tendrils falling out of it, but it’s the best I can do. I wrap the hair tie enough times that I know it will at least stay out of her face until she feels well enough to adjust it.

“My hair tie? But I thought it was your lucky charm?” she says. She’s not fighting me, and I can already tell that she’s more comfortable with her hair out of her face and off of her neck.

“I’ll get it back from you later. And anyway, I think it needed a re-charge.”

There is a small content sigh that comes out of her, against my chest as I wrap my arms back around her.

The cab arrives, and I give them the address to The Commons. As I get her into the elevator, she tells me she left her purse at Brynn’s because she was going to crash there tonight. She only brought a credit card and her cell phone. She doesn’t protest when I guide her up to my apartment or when I help her to my room.

‘Here,’ I say, leading her into my walk-in closet. ‘You’ll be more comfortable in one of my shirts. Pick out whatever you want to wear. I’m going to make you some chamomile tea. Maybe it will settle your stomach.”

I leave her in my closet and head for the kitchen, giving her time to find what will be most comfortable for her.

By the time I heat the water, steam the tea bag, and put a little honey into it, she is asleep in my bed. She looks like she’s always belonged there.

I set down the tea and some saltine crackers on the nightstand—just in case. And then I pull the comforter up over her shoulders and pull back the hair that’s fallen into her face.

‘Thank you,’ she murmurs, half-asleep. ‘You’re not so bad sometimes.’

I smile, brushing hair from her face. ‘Get some rest. I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.’

“Why’d you have to go and screw it all up?’ she murmurs, her words slurred but filled with raw emotion. ‘I thought… I thought you were different.”

My heart clenches. This mess is of my own doing. I should be sliding into bed next to her. Holding her against me and kissing her goodnight.

‘I’ll earn it back. I promise,” I say, pulling my comforter higher up over her shoulder. ‘However long it takes.’

She’s asleep before I finish speaking, but I mean every word. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for that night in San Diego if she’ll let me.

Because Cammy Wrenley is my end game.