Pucking Sweet: An MMF Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 3)
Pucking Sweet: Chapter 13

Claribel and I are two of the first people on the plane after the Hurricanes game ends. Leaving her up with the rest of the media team at the front, I make my way to the back. Now I’m just sitting here, foot jiggling, anxiously waiting for the flight attendants to close the boarding door. If I was thinking straight, I would be the last one on for each flight. Then I wouldn’t have time to let my anxiety build.

For better or worse, I have a serious fear of closed-in spaces. Blame my brother, Rowan. When he was eight and I was five, we were playing hide-and-seek, and he shut me in a hope chest in our Nana’s attic. Then the jerk forgot about me and left me up there all afternoon. No one could hear my screams because it was the attic. Our Daddy whooped him for it, but the damage was already done.

Twenty-two years and three therapists later, I’m still a bit of a mess. Planes, elevators, tanning beds—basically, if it’s got a lid or a sealed door, I’m counting the milliseconds until the torture is over.

“Gosh, what is the holdup?” Peering up the aisle, I see Mars Kinnunen is out of his seat, saying something to Rachel. I’m too far away to hear, but it looks animated. After a couple minutes, she stands, snatching her stuff out of the seat. Then she follows Kinnunen up the plane to his row and sits with him.

Hmm…I knew Jake Compton was carrying a torch for our dear Barkley Fellow. Could it be that our two-time Stanley Cup-winning goalie is also a smitten kitten?

As Rachel and Mars sit farther up the plane, Colton stands.

Oh my…was she just sitting with him? He’s not interested in her too, is he?

A flash of jealousy sparks through me, and I feel a primal urge to go hiss the word mine at her. It must be my anxiety gummy talking. Colton Morrow is not mine. He’s allowed to sit by whoever he wants—and kiss them too.

We make eye contact and I gasp, sinking back in my seat.

Colton’s coming this way. He’s walking right down the aisle toward me. A wild image flashes in my mind of Rachel trying to flirt with him. No doubt, she offers him a taste of her better, sexier granola, but he throws the bag in her face, vowing he’ll never eat anyone’s granola but mine. Then he kicks her out of his row, banishing her to the death seats in the middle of the plane.

Sure…I bet that’s exactly what just happened.

I groan, trying to make myself as small as possible. This crush is getting really inconvenient. I don’t want him to see the way I’m blushing, so I bury my face in my phone.

“Poppy?”

The surprise in his tone has me looking up. Heavens, he’s gorgeous. He got his haircut since I last saw him. Now the sides have a sharper fade. All his stubble is gone too. His dark cheeks are silky smooth. I trace the line of his angular jaw with my eyes, following it down to his full lips.

“Poppy,” he says again. I watch his mouth form the word, his lips curling in slightly to pronounce the “P.”

I pull my gaze from his mouth and meet his dark eyes. “Yeah?”

He glances around. “What are you doing back here?”

“Sitting,” I reply lamely.

“Managers usually sit up front with the coaching staff,” he says, pointing over his shoulder. “Back of the plane is for interns.”

“Wow, really feeling the love, Morrow,” says Teddy in the row across from me. He’s sitting with Max, my favorite social media intern.

One of the flight attendants walks up behind Colton and taps him on the shoulder. He’s a tall, Black man wearing clear-frame glasses. “Mr. Morrow, you need to replace your seat, please.”

“Yeah, just give me a minute to hit the head,” he replies.

“No, now,” says the attendant. “The lavatory will be open again as soon as we reach our cruising altitude.”

“Fine.” I gasp in surprise as Colton plops himself down in the empty seat next to me. “There. I’m sitting. Are you happy?”

“Buckle your seatbelt, and I’ll be ecstatic,” the attendant deadpans.

Colton grapples for the pieces of his seatbelt, clicking them together. “Happy now?”

The corner of the attendant’s mouth twitches. “I’m dancing on the inside.” He saunters off, calling the all-clear to his crew.

Oh, heaven help me. Now that Colton’s sitting, I can smell his cologne. It’s the same one he was wearing the night he kissed me, all warm and woodsy. I detect notes of leather and bergamot, a hint of orange. Smelling it again puts me right back in my kitchen—my legs wrapped around his hips, my hands on his shoulders, my tongue teasing his perfect lips…

I lean as far away as possible. My shoulder is pressed against the window. “Colton, what are you doing?”

He gestures to the seat. “I’m sitting.”

“You’re sitting by me,” I clarify. “I thought players don’t sit with staff.”

“Doc Price is sitting with Kinnunen,” he says with a shrug. “Compton is sitting with Sanford. Apparently, the Rays don’t obey the time-honored laws of hockey travel.”

I glance his way, trying to keep my tone uninterested. “Yeah, what was that about?”

“What was what about?”

“I saw Rachel talking to Mars…and she was sitting with you?”

He huffs, pulling his earbud from his ear and returning it to its little case. “Oh, Doc Price is just learning about the ins and outs of hockey superstitions.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Mars is a goalie,” he explains. “If there’s one thing goalies crave, it’s routine. And she was sitting with Mars on our flight out, right? Well, then he played a shutout game, and she tried to move seats. Mars wasn’t having it. He made her move.”

“He made her move? Why?”

“Because he needs to know.”

“Know what?”

“Whether she’s lucky.”

I go still. There it is again, that word. Lucky. Lukas teased me with it earlier—

I wince as the plane hits a bump. Dropping my hand down, I hold tight to the armrest. We’re about to take off. This is always the hardest part for me. But Colton is here, and I’ll take any distraction. “So, umm, he thinks he played a shutout game because Rachel sat next to him on the plane?”

Colton chuckles. “Probably not. If we lose the next game, he’ll likely let her go. Right now, she’s his unwilling hostage.”

So, not a love connection. That simplifies things for me. I don’t have to worry about spinning anything if their relationship doesn’t go beyond her warming an airplane seat.

I glance up at him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you believe in luck?”

He smiles. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be here right now if the universe hadn’t granted me at least a little bit of luck.”

“By ‘here’ you mean on a chartered jet, playing professional hockey?”

His expression heats as he leans in. “I mean sitting here talking to you.”

Okay, if he keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to kiss him again, and the interns cannot catch me kissing a player.

The plane bumps and rattles as we take off, and Colton moves with the motion, dropping his elbow down so it brushes mine on the armrest. “I can smell your perfume,” he murmurs, his voice all low and rumbly. It’s doing unholy things to me to feel his warm breath at my ear. “You were wearing it when I kissed you. What is it?”

I swallow, heart in my throat. The plane tips up, up, up as we start to climb. “Umm…it’s Chanel. Gardénia.”

The plane dips and his nose brushes against my temple. He lifts a hand, his fingers trailing lightly down my arm. “You smell like summer and sunshine. It’s intoxicating, Poppy. I can’t get it out of my head.”

Oh god, I really am going to kiss him again!

“Do you want some granola?” I all but shout at him. Diving forward, I dig under the seat and pull out my quart-sized baggie of homemade granola. I right myself, holding it up between us.

He’s smirking like he knows exactly what I’m doing. Of course he does. I’m being as subtle as a foghorn. He laughs. “Sure, I’d love some.”

I pry open the bag, nearly dropping it as the plane jolts again. “Oh—Jesus.” One hand grips the armrest as I all but tip the granola into his lap.

He catches it with his quick reflexes. “Poppy, are you…?”

I shut my eyes tight as the whole plane bounces like a rock skipping on a pond.

His hand covers mine and he gives it a gentle squeeze. “Are you afraid of flying?”

“No,” I say with a forced, squeaky laugh.

“Then why are you clinging to this armrest like we’ll drop from the sky if you don’t?”

I open my eyes wide. “Ohmygod. Why would you even say that?” I cry, slapping his arm.

He chuckles, popping a handful of my granola in his mouth.

“Colton, the universe can hear you. You can’t talk about planes falling from the sky while you’re on a plane in the sky! God, I thought all you hockey players were superstitious.”

“I didn’t say I was superstitious,” he replies, crunching on my granola. “I said I believe in luck. Two very different things.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

He leans down with a smile. “Well, if I was superstitious, I might think the only way I’ll ever get you to kiss me again is to wait until you’re stress baking and show up at your door with a new potted plant.”

“Colton—”

“But I believe in luck,” he goes on. “I know if I’m patient, it’s just a matter of time before the conditions will be right, and you’ll give in to your desires again.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much my plan. Patience and luck.”

I cross my arms. “So, you think I have some kind of insatiable desire, a fire burning in me that only your sweet lovin’ can quench?”

He laughs, placing the half-eaten bag of granola in my lap. Then he dusts off his hands and turns to me. Cupping my face, he leans in, his woodsy scent enveloping me once more. He lowers his voice. “Let’s put it this way, Poppy. Just the thought of my lips on yours has you letting go of all fear. You’re not thinking about this plane falling from the sky. You’re thinking about my hard dick brushing against your inner thigh.”

I gasp, leaning away. “You’re a poet and you don’t know it.”

He laughs again. “That’s what had you pulling away in the kitchen, right? You wanted me then, like you want me now, and you’re just too afraid to admit it.” He nods down at my chest. “And you crossed your arms just now so I wouldn’t see your hard nipples through that silky shirt.”

“Colton,” I cry, outraged at his impertinence…and so turned on I’m fighting the urge to squirm under his intense gaze.

His dark eyes sparkle. “Go on, Poppy. Make my fucking night. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Heart racing, I lift a hand, placing it over his on my cheek. “I don’t date my players,” I say, my tone solemn. “Colton, I’m so sorry. It’s my one rule.”

He just smiles, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I’m not asking to date you. I’m just letting you know that you need to be kissed more often, and I’m willing to be the man to do it.” He drops his hand away from me, leaving me reeling. “Any time of the day or night. You need kissing? You come to me. Understand?”

Somehow, I replace myself nodding, my hands settling back on the armrests.

The seatbelt sign dings, and he immediately unbuckles. “Not to force an early end to this moment, but I really did come back here to use the lavatory. And I need to get back to my seat for when they serve dinner. But you just remember what I said, okay?”

Which part? The part where he called me intoxicating? The part where he admitted he pressed his hard dick against me in my kitchen? Or the part where he said I need to be kissed every day and he wants to be the man to do it?

All of it. I’m going to remember everything he just said. I’ll be adding it to the ever-lengthening list of reasons why Colton Morrow is my dreamboat. This man I can’t let myself have is quickly becoming the only thing I think about.

And I teased Lukas earlier about living in the land of delusion?

Gazing up at Colton, I just nod again.

“Have a good night, Poppy.” He moves away down the aisle, leaving me clutching the armrests for a reason we both know has nothing to do with my fear of flying.