Page 82 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

He shoves Oliver to the ice, then takes off at a near sprint. Oliver’s laugh bursts out of him, and he climbs to his feet slowly—seeming to let Penn have a decent head start before he gives chase.

“Racing in goalie skates,” Dad laughs. “Now I’ve seen it all.”

“Don’t you bag skate them?”

As in, coaches making their players skate until their legs fall off.

“Only when they deserve it,” he replies.

We track their progress. Oliver, predictably, catches up with Penn easily.

When they’re halfway across, I tug Dad’s arm. “Let’s make it a little longer for them.”

He agrees, and we skate across the center ice. We do it twice more before they catch on—and catch up. They’re both breathing hard, their faces flushed.

I can’t stop giggling.

“Not fair,” Penn gasps. “I’m fit but I’m not that fucking fit.”

“Penance for skating when you should be resting,” my father says.

Oliver snickers, but his forearms are on his knees. He and Penn skate out ahead of us. It’s actually nice. Being here with not just my father, but the guys, too. Especially since they seem to be on their best behavior.

“Your old man’s going to take a hot chocolate break,” Dad says in my ear. “You okay with them, or do you want to come with me?”

“I’m okay for now. But I do want a hot chocolate later.”

“Deal.”

He ducks out when we pass the opening in the boards, and I navigate my way between Oliver and Penn. They were just ahead of us, discussing something while they caught their breath, but now they both straighten.

Things have obviously been shifting between us. I want to understand it more, but I also don’t want to jinx it.

“What were you discussing?”

They exchange a glance over my head.

“Oh, come on.”

“We were debating if you liked what went down in your dad’s office,” Penn finally says. “Minus the coercion. Or…”

“You’re thinking about sex?” Jesus. “Well, my preference is to avoid an audience of the bitch who hates me and my ex-best friend.”

They both smirk.

“The rest was cool?” Penn clarifies.

“It wasn’t cool,” I mutter. “Neither of you are getting in my pants for a long, long time.”

Oliver bumps my shoulder. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, doll.”

I groan. “You two are trouble.”

“Double the trouble?” Penn asks.

“Double the fun,” Oliver finishes.

Yeah, I’m so fucking screwed.