Evalyn

“Okay, Evalyn, you’ve got this,” I whisper to myself. I glance at the clock. Shit. Maybe I don’t got this.

“Lily!” I call down the hallway. “Are you almost ready? We’ve got to go!” I throw a few more granola bars in my kid’s lunchbox, then add an extra bag of fruit snacks just for good measure. “Lily?” I call again.

When I get to her room, I find my six-year-old standing in an enormous pile of clothes. I’m about to reprimand her about taking out all of the laundry that I just folded, but then she looks up at me with huge, teary eyes, and my heart melts.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” I ask.

“I don’t know what to wear today,” Lily says.

I smile gently at her. “When I’m nervous about something, I like to wear some of my favorite clothes. That’s why Mommy’s wearing this yellow shirt today. Do you want to wear one of your favorite shirts?”

Lily brightens. “I want my dinosaur shirt!” she says.

Of course she does. I sigh. “I’m sorry, honey, that one’s in the wash.”

I watch Lily’s lip tremble for a moment, and then she opens her mouth to wail. I crouch down to hug her before her distress turns into a full-on tantrum.

“I know, baby, but that shirt’s dirty,” I say.

“I don’t care!” Lily sobs. “I can still wear it even if it’s dirty!”

“What if you wore your strawberry shirt?” I offer.

Lily shakes her head violently. “I need my dinosaur shirt! Mommy, it’s my lucky shirt. If I don’t wear it, some bad things might happen.”

I make two more suggestions of different shirts, but once Lily has made up her mind about something, she’s stubborn as hell. I sigh, tell her to choose between her red leggings or her blue ones, and then make my way down the hall to the laundry room.

I pull out the dinosaur shirt. At least there are no stains on it. I give it a sniff. Not that bad, I guess. I grab the bottle of Febreze and spray it down. It’s not the full wash the shirt needs, but it will have to be good enough. I glance at my watch. Dammit.

I hurry back down the hall to Lily’s room, where she’s pulled her blue leggings on. They’re on backward, but I’m picking my battles. I pull the dinosaur shirt over my daughter’s head. “It smells so clean, Mama,” Lily says. “It’s not even dirty at all.”

“Can you put your shoes on in the car?” I ask her. I hand her a pair of socks and her sneakers.

“Yep!”

I make one last stop in the kitchen to grab Lily’s lunchbox, then bundle us both into the car. I try to follow the speed limit, even though at this rate, I’m probably going to be late for my first day at my new job, and the thought makes me feel almost sick to my stomach.

When we get to drop-off, I hop out to help Lily out of her seat. I hand her her lunchbox and kiss the top of her head. “Remember to behave today, okay?” I say.

Lily nods. “But Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Sometimes people don’t like me. And it hurts my feelings.”

I look at my small daughter, this little person who is my whole world. I crouch down in front of her. “Just be yourself, okay? They’ll love you. Hug and high five?”

Lily gives me a hug and high five, as per our ritual, but she doesn’t smile. She turns and trudges toward the doors of the school.

“I love you, honey!” I call after her. But she doesn’t hear me.

It takes everything in me to get back into the car instead of running after my sweet kid. But I’ve got bills to pay, and this kid of mine needs to be taken care of, so I head to my first day at the arena.

When I pull into the parking lot, I’m stunned by the size of the building in front of me. It’s the first time I’ve seen it—all the interviews were just done by phone. I hadn’t expected the arena to be this big.

I pull my car into an employee spot and make my way up the steps to the front door.

“Evalyn!”

I look up and smile. My friend Blake jogs down to meet me, then folds me into a tight hug. He kisses my cheek in a friendly way. “Welcome to your new job!” he says.

“Thank you again for this,” I say. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to be able to work here.”

“Hell, it’s the least I could do,” Blake says. “You saved my life at that clinic, so I’ll be in debt to you for the rest of time.”

“You would have survived,” I say. “It was just a broken leg.” The truth is that Blake had been in bad shape when he showed up—his leg wasn’t just broken, it was broken in two places, and he’d needed twenty-two stitches for the gashes that accompanied his injury. But in a strange turn of events, Blake and I had become friends. After he had healed, we’d kept in touch, and his friendship was one of the better things going on in my life.

“I don’t know if I would have survived a leg that broken,” Blake says seriously.

“That’s what you get for hanging out in the rough part of town,” I tease.

Blake shrugs. “Unfortunately, I have business dealings in the area, and sometimes a trip there can’t be avoided.” His face breaks out into a grin. “I’m just glad you were there to patch me up. That clinic was lucky to have you, but you were way too good for that place, so now we get to have you!”

I return his grin. I’ll be making three times the salary as the in-house medic for the Blood Moon Bashers, the hockey team that Blake owns.

“Come on,” Blake says. “Lemme give you a tour of the place!”

The arena seats five hundred, and a Zamboni is moving slowly over the ice. I take a deep breath, inhaling that clean, cold scent. There’s something about the smell of fresh ice that puts a little extra zing in my blood. A lifetime ago, I spent most of my waking hours in arenas like this. But that was then. I’m a doctor now. With an ungodly amount of student loan debt and a six-year-old to take care of.

I turn to Blake. “So. I know werewolves make great hockey players, but you said this was a ‘new version’ of the sport. What did you mean?”

He laughs. “You’ll get to see for yourself at the game tomorrow. It’s a more…intense version of the sport. Maybe the purest form of hockey there is. One where wolves don’t have to hold back.”

“Meaning?”

But my friend just smiles. “You’ll see tomorrow. Wanna come meet the team?” I follow him down the hallway toward the locker rooms. “The guys are getting ready for practice right now,” he says over his shoulder. “But I’m sure they’ll be happy to say hi.” He strides into the locker room, but he pauses when he sees me hovering at the doorway.

“Um,” I say. “Aren’t the guys…changing?”

“It’s just nudity,” he says, shrugging. “I’m sure you saw plenty of that in med school. And you and I both know werewolves are pretty damn used to being naked.”

“Right,” I say, trying to hide how flustered I actually am.

“Besides,” Blake continues, “your office is just off the locker room anyway. Come on.”

I take a deep breath. I’m a professional, and I want to make sure Blake knows it. And he’s right, it’s just a little nudity. Nothing I haven’t seen before. Blake pushes the door open, and I follow behind.

And then I try not to stare.

All around me are the hottest men I have ever seen in my life. I’m surrounded by broad shoulders and thick arms and chiseled abs and V-line pelvises and other very male parts that I’m trying very hard not to notice.

I keep my eyes carefully above every player’s waist as Blake introduces me to members of the team. I can feel my face getting hot when one of the players reaches out to shake my hand, but I return his handshake and try not to let my eyes drop to his sculpted chest. The same thing happens a few more times—me blushing while naked hockey players shake my hand and introduce themselves. The last one smells so good I’m practically cross-eyed.

Jesus Christ. There’s no way I’m going to remember any of their names.

“Oh, and there’s one other guy I need to introduce you to,” Blake says. “He’s the real star of the show. Our enforcer. Hey, Axel!”

My heart stops beating. I look across the room at the man Blake is calling to. Bare feet. Strong, muscular calves that lead up to strong, muscular thighs. An ass that won’t quit. A narrow waist that broadens into wide shoulders. Dark brown hair, damp from the shower. He turns around, and I get an eyeful of his perfect chest. Solid, six-pack abs. A dark line of hair that trails down to—

My god.

I force myself to look up at his face. He freezes, looks me up and down, then his gray eyes narrow. When he speaks, his voice is a growl. “What are you doing here?”