Page 7 of Puck Me Twice

He takes the folder from me and moves to a nearby table. In a few quick minutes, he fills out the information I need to have on file for all employees.

Aidan MacGregor, one of the nicer guys on the team, gives me a nod as he moves past us. “Hey, V,” he says, holding out his fist for a bump.

Brushing my knuckles against his, I give him a smile. “Nice win the other night.”

He got a goal in the final seconds of the game, lifting the team to four points above Calgary.

It was made sweeter by the fact he was drafted by Calgary and then traded a few seasons later, before he ever got to lace up his skates for them.

He smirks. “It was, wasn’t it?”

Since he was traded here to Boston, and he’s been a stalwart on the second line ever since, I guess it didn’t work out too badly… for us.

With a roll of my eyes, I shake my head. “Get on the ice and get me another win, then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” MacGregor gives me a salute.

A few more guys make their way past us. I nod to Easton and McKittrick, smile at Jonas, and fist bump Reynolds, the new guy who came in a few weeks ago.

“So you know everyone pretty well, huh?” Robby says, scrawling his signature on the last page.

“I’ve worked here for a while,” I say tightly.

Schwartz and Cole shuffle past us. Cole looks hungover, which—well, that wouldn’t surprise me, to be honest. Lewis and Henry, the two goalies, edge through the room.

Then another guy makes his way toward the ice, and my heart stops.

Sven Larsson.

A million years ago, way before I even met Robby, I went to my friend Katie’s wedding. Sven was there. He was a rookie back then, playing on the same line as the groom, and we were seated at the same table with a bunch of other single, underage people.

We…

Well, we hooked up.

It was just that once. It’s never happened since.

When I joined the staff, he’d already been on the team for two seasons. I’m fairly sure he remembers me, because he goes red and stammers anytime we’re in the same vicinity, but neither of us have tried to talk about it.

It was a one-night stand. It happened nine years ago. It won’t happen again. That’s all there is to it.

Since Robby, I’ve made it a personal rule not to go out with hockey players. And once I joined the staff here, fraternization with the players was severely frowned upon, the employee handbook stating multiple hoops to jump through, added to that, the explicit knowledge without them saying it – the players are worth far more than administrative staff. My employment contract has an entire section with stipulations and protocols for interoffice relationships.

Besides, it’s in the past.

“Listen, Nessie,” Robby says, forcing my attention back to him. “Can we talk?”

My spine goes ramrod straight. “We’re talking now.”

He shakes his head. “You know what I mean. Can we grab a drink sometime? Two old friends?”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Come on, Nessie,” he wheedles. “Just think about it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s just a drink.”