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

Practice finishes, and I have my bag slug over my shoulder, post shower. I head for the corporate offices, my body tingling with excitement as if I’m about to play a game. But instead, I’m actually going up to see Cammy for the first time since she was in my bed four days ago. Though compared to an NHL in-season game, the stakes feel just as high when it comes to her.

Every night away, I found myself checking my phone, hoping for another text from her. They were always professional, always about hockey: Good luck tonight.Nice save in the third.Way to bounce back after that first loss. But no text like, I miss you. Dinner sounds great.

Simple. Friendly, yet distant. But it’s something.

Each one felt like a small stepping stone to building a new foundation. And after having my number blocked for the last year and a half, this is the kind of progress I can get behind.

The elevator seems slower than usual as it climbs to the executive floor, my mind racing with memories of the last time I saw her—wrapped in my sheets, her hair spread across my pillow. Then waking up alone, understanding why she left but hating it all the same.

When the doors open, I hear her before I see her.

‘No, no, no,’ she mutters. ‘This is not happening.’

I round the corner to find her standing in the middle of what looks like a merchandise explosion.

Boxes are stacked everywhere—on her desk, the floor, spilling into the hallway. She’s got her hair pulled back in a messy bun, reading glasses perched on her nose as she studies a clipboard. The morning light streaming through the windows catches the gold in her hair, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

‘Need a hand?’

She startles, looking up. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air feels charged, heavy with everything unsaid between us since that morning I woke up to an empty bed.

‘JP.’ She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and I fight the urge to do it for her. ‘I didn’t know you were back.’

‘The team got back last night. We had practice this morning.”

Her eyes clamp shut, and she shakes her head as if she should have remembered that. “Right, yeah, of course. I’ve been a little busy with everything going on. And the auction is coming up in a week and a half.”

“What can I do to help?” I ask, stepping closer, picking up a jersey that’s fallen from one of the boxes. My fingers trace the Hawkeyes logo, buying time. “Are these for the auction?” I ask.

“You don’t need to help. You’ve been out of town, played several hard games. You should get a day off—I’ve got it.”

“Do you have it? Because it looks like you’re about to square off with those boxes. Should I grab you a hockey stick at least?”

She glances up at me, and takes a deep breath, her hands gripping her waist. “What are you doing here anyway? You should be at home icing that knee.”

“It’s a weekend, so I could ask you the same thing. But judging by the disaster zone in here, I’d say you’re trying to turn yourself into a human pretzel over this auction.”

Her eyes roam over the forty or fifty massive boxes that Merchandise must have delivered for her this morning.

She bites her lip, clearly torn between pride and practicality. ‘I knew that Merchandise was coming in today to do this for me, but I guess I thought they were going to take everything down to the locker room. I’m going to have to carry all of these down today to get the guys to sign them.’noveldrama

I step inside, shaking my head. “Cammy, this is insane. How are you planning to get all this stuff downstairs?”

Her lips tighten, “I’m not sure…” and she waves me off. “But I’ve got it under control.”

“No, you don’t.” I walk further into the room, surveying the situation, careful to maintain professional distance despite every instinct screaming to pull her into my arms. Our text messages over the last few days show her warming up to me—I can feel it—but it’s still a delicate balance. ‘Let me help. Actually…’ An idea forms. ‘Give me ten minutes.’

She raises an eyebrow, and I catch a hint of the spark that first drew me to her. ‘What are you planning?’

‘Trust me?’

The words hang between us, weighted with meaning beyond this moment. She studies me for a long beat before nodding slowly.

I’m already heading for the elevator. ‘Don’t move anything. I’ll be right back.’

In the locker room, most of the guys are still hanging around after the morning skate. Perfect.

‘Listen up,’ I call out. ‘I need volunteers for a special mission.’

Hunter looks up from taping his stick. ‘What kind of mission?’

‘The kind where we help Cammy with auction merchandise instead of making her haul forty boxes down here.’

‘I’m in,’ Aleksi says immediately, jumping up. ‘Anything to avoid Scottie’s protein shake lecture.’

‘Hey!’ Scottie protests. ‘The importance of proper post-workout nutrition—’

‘Save it for the rookies,’ Wolf cuts in, standing. ‘She can’t carry all of those down here. Let’s go.’

I see Seven head my way, too. “Coach, can you make a Serendipity’s run?” His eyebrow furrows until I tell him why, and then he heads in the opposite direction as the rest of us.

Within minutes, I’ve got ten guys following me to the elevators. When we arrive, Cammy’s exactly where I left her, though she’s managed to create some semblance of order among the chaos.

Her eyes widen when she sees us all file in, and something in my chest tightens at the way her eyes sparkle with surprise. ‘What is this?’

‘Your cavalry,’ I announce, starting to direct traffic. ‘Hunter, Wolf—grab those boxes by the window. Aleksi, start setting up stations in the conference room. Scottie, don’t even think about bringing that protein shake in here.’

To my relief, all ten guys jump into action, organizing all of the boxes for signing. I head to Cammy’s desk, finding a stack of markers in her top drawer. Our fingers brush as I hand her one, and the contact sends electricity shooting up my arm. Her breath catches, and I know she felt it too.

‘You didn’t have to do this,’ she says softly.

‘I wanted to.’ I catch her gaze, willing her to understand everything I can’t say. ‘Besides, it’s the least I can do after—’

‘Yo, JP!’ Aleksi calls from the conference room. ‘Where do you want the jerseys?’

The moment breaks, but something in Cammy’s expression has softened.

I spend the next hour coordinating the most efficient signing operation the Hawkeyes have ever seen. The guys set up an assembly line, passing items down the conference table while trading chirps and stories.

‘Remember to make them legible,’ Cammy reminds everyone. ‘We need people to actually know whose signature they’re bidding on.’

‘Unlike Ziggy’s chicken scratch,’ Hunter teases.

‘Hey, my signature is artistic,’ Wolf defends.

‘Yeah, if by artistic you mean that it looks like a drunk spider fell in ink,” Trey adds.

Cammy moves between stations, checking items off her list and occasionally catching my eye with a smile that makes my heart stutter. At one point, she reaches for a box on a high shelf, and I’m behind her before I can think better of it.

‘Let me,’ I say, my chest brushing her back as I grab the box. She freezes, and for a moment, we’re pressed together, her warmth seeping into me.

‘Thanks,’ she whispers, turning slightly. We’re so close, I can see the flutter of her pulse at her neck.

Seven appears in the doorway then, coffee in hand. He takes in the scene—his daughter’s flushed cheeks, my proximity, the organized chaos of players signing merchandise.

But instead of the scowl I expect, he just walks over to Cammy.

‘Here,’ he says, handing her the cup. ‘JP mentioned you could use this.’

He hands it to her and then gives her a kiss on the head. “I have to go to a playdate with Milo, but I’m proud of you and everything you’re doing to help these kids and the foundation. Don’t work too hard today, okay?”

As soon as Seven leaves, her eyes shift between the coffee and me, surprise evident on her face. ‘You asked my dad to get me coffee?’

I shrug, trying to play it cool despite the victory I feel at Seven’s small gesture of… well, not approval exactly, but something. ‘We’re best friends now. Didn’t you see that smile he just gave me?’

‘Looked more like he was hoping that if he stared long enough, that you’d combust into flames,’ she says, but she’s fighting a grin.

‘That’s just how he shows affection.’ I pull out her chair. ‘Sit. Relax. We’ve got this under control.’

She sits, taking a sip of coffee, and I can’t help but lean over her shoulder to look at her checklist. The scent of her shampoo hits me, and suddenly I’m back in my bed, her skin against mine, her breath on my neck…

‘Monty,’ Aleksi calls out. ‘Here’s your box to sign,’ he says, slapping the top of one of the boxes.

Right. Professional. I straighten up, catching Cammy’s warm honey eyes before heading back to the signing station.

Two hours later, we’ve got everything signed and organized. The guys file out, but not before Aleksi whispers, ‘You’re welcome,’ as he passes me.

Then it’s just Cammy and me in the conference room, the air thick with possibility.

‘Thank you,’ she says, straightening a stack of signed photos. Her fingers trace the edge of one absently. ‘This would have taken me days on my own.’

I step closer, unable to help myself. ‘Anytime.’

She looks up, and suddenly the air feels charged. We’re standing close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, count her eyelashes if I wanted to. Her lips part slightly, and I’m halfway to throwing caution to the wind when Cammy’s cell phone rings.

I glance at my watch, hating that I have to leave. ‘Are you going to be okay up here?’

‘Yes.’ She nods with a warm smile. ‘With no one else left in the offices, I won’t have anyone sidetracking me, so I can stay on task.’

‘What more do you need to do?’

She looks around at the neat stacks of merch inside the office. ‘I need to catalog each auction item and give it a bid number. This was going to take me days to complete, but since the guys put everything in piles, I think I might get this done tonight. What you and the team did is amazing. Thank you.’ Her smile is genuine, bright enough to light up the room. Before I can respond, she steps forward and hugs me.

The contact is brief but electric. When she pulls back, our faces are close—too close. Her eyes drop to my lips for a fraction of a second, and I almost forget about my other commitment to the Physical Therapy waiting downstairs.

‘I’d stay and help,’ I say reluctantly, ‘but PT only came in for a half day, and I need—’

She waves me off quickly. ‘Yes…of course. You’ve done more than enough,’ she assures me, still beaming as she looks around at everything laid out in Penelope’s office suite. ‘I’m grateful, really.’

Cammy bends down to look through a box, and I quickly pull out the carved bird she was admiring that Pete had made at his Pike’s Place booth. I went back and bought it the next day for her. I set it down on her desk and then pick up my bag, sliding the strap over my shoulder.

I back toward the door, not wanting to leave but knowing I have to. ‘I have my own to-do list anyway. PT and then I promised Pete I’d run the Zamboni tonight.’

‘Go,’ she says with a soft laugh. ‘Take care of that knee.’

As I head for the elevator, I can’t help but steal another glance at her. She’s already immersed in her work, grabbing a clipboard and taking a sip of her coffee, and I have to force myself to keep walking.

Some promises are worth keeping, even if they mean walking away from moments like this.

As I head down to the locker room, my phone buzzes.

Cammy: I can’t believe you remembered the bird. I love it. Thank you.

I smile, typing back:

Me: De rien, mon petit oiseau. Anytime. Really.

Somehow I know, tonight isn’t over.