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I laugh and don’t bother telling him that that would be most women’s dream come true.

He scans his I.D. on his lanyard on the door scanner and it unlocks, he slips through the large, heavy-looking door, leaving me standing there with Mitch and Noah. Noah has wide eyes and looks nervous, and Mitch is standing stiffly, seeming uncomfortable. I wonder if it’s really weird for him to be here visiting instead of in the locker room cooling down with the rest of the team. I imagine Noah would feel that way too. Noah looks at me and I offer him what I hope is a comforting smile.

Noah releases a slow breath. “I’m nervous.”

Mitch relaxes slightly and smirks. “Why? Just a bunch of sweaty, smelly athletes.”

“Sweaty, smelly, professional athletes. Athletes literally living my dream,” Noah says with a shake of his head.

Mitch roughs up his hair with one of those giant hands of his and Noah shoves it away and tries to smooth his hair out.

The heavy door opens and Tom waves us in. “Alright, everyone’s decent.”

We walk inside the spacious locker room, sweaty guys grin at Noah and give him fist bumps and high fives. I take a second to look around, because this is a really fancy locker room. Polished wood separates each player’s locker/cubby area. Name plates with each guy’s name are secured onto the wood. A giant eagle light sprawls across the ceiling, and awards and trophies are displayed on the walls opposite the lockers. Locker room isn’t even a fitting term for this sweat-palace.

But it still reeks of sweaty boys, just like any other locker room.

Bruce waddles toward me on his skates, his torso bare, but still in his gear from the waist down. “Blondie! How’d you like your present?”

I try holding back my smile, but it’s impossible with Bruce grinning at me with that ornery smile of his. I manage to keep my eyes plastered firmly on his face, because if I look down, I know I'll see nothing but muscles on muscles on more muscles. And I don’t need that image in my head. The only guy in this room I’d like to see shirtless is the grouchy one behind me.

Colby ambles up beside him, also shirtless (and also spectacularly fit), with his padded shorts still on. He slings a sweaty arm over Bruce’s shoulders. “Did you read the book during the game? Or were you too busy watching me?”

Bruce shoves him and he teeters on his skates. “I was too busy eating nachos and corn dogs. Sorry, I didn't really pay attention to the game.” I shrug.

Colby brings a hand to his bare chest, feigning offense. “I’m hurt.”

“Me too! I had some sweet saves you missed,” Bruce says in a pouty tone.

I laugh and spot Remy across the room from us, he sees me and gives me a brief wave. There are two reporters, one connecting a mic to Remy’s shirt and the other connecting one to Weston Kershaw’s. They’re ushered out of the room, I assume for an interview. I wonder if Remy enjoys interviews and press? He seems so quiet and reserved. Actually, he and Weston were part of the few guys in here who still had shirts on.

Bruce and Colby sidle over to chat with Noah and their other teammates and I smile at the excitement on my little brother’s face.

Realizing Mitch hasn’t made a peep this whole time, I glance over my shoulder to look at him. I can tell Mitch is standing right behind me because my body is humming the way it always does when he’s nearby. I can also still smell the very faint scent of berries and bubble gum coming from him, which is a welcome reprieve from the locker room’s other smells.

Mitch's expression is not amused at all. He’s glaring at his teammates. The man practically has laser beams coming out of his eyeballs.

“Why the sour face?” I ask in a low voice.

He crosses his arms. “The guys could’ve had a little respect and stayed dressed for five more minutes.”

“Whoah, I didn’t realize you’re a prude, it’s not like I’ve never seen a man’s chest before.” I pause, leaning in slightly closer to him. “Plus, there’s only one person I’m interested in seeing shirtless.”

His gaze falls to my lips and lingers there for a second before glancing back up. “Is it Colby?”

I snort, very unattractively, and give him a shove so he has to take a step back. “You’re clueless, Big Man.”

CHAPTER 21

MITCH

“There you are!” My agent, Max, says, walking into the locker room of the Eagles practice rink. He looks aggravated even though his usual fake smile is firmly in place. “You’re a difficult man to get a hold of.”

I’m freshly showered from practicing with one of the coaches this morning and standing by my locker in just a towel. My hair is still wet and dripping down my back. I swear, this guy finds the worst times to bug me. But then again, I'm the one who's been ignoring his phone calls since last night.

“Oh, hey Max,” I say dryly, grabbing the towel from around my waist and using it to dry my hair. If he wants to chat with me right after my shower, that’s his problem.

He quickly looks down at his shoes. “I wanted to talk to you about how much positivity has come from your hockey coaching.”