Pucking Strong: An MM Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 4)

Teddy disappears shortly after dinner while I help Dad clear the dishes away. Once everything is set to dry, I leave my parents to their nightly ritual. Mom always makes them each a cup of chamomile tea, then they play a game of skitgubbe at the kitchen table before bed.

It was a good day, but she’s tired. Every day, her memories pour like sand through her fingers. What she easily recalls in the morning, she forgets by evening. During dinner, she asked me three times to pass the salt when it was right by her hand. By the end of the meal, she was asking Teddy his name. I could tell having to keep repeating it for her was starting to upset him.

I step outside on the front porch and look around. Both the rocking chairs are empty. Where the hell did Teddy go? I grab my bag from the car and make my way down the narrow, winding steps that lead to the lakeshore. The boat shed sits at the end of our dock. Flickering light glows from the shed’s two little windows. I’m sure Dad set a fire in the wood stove to take the bite out of this sudden chill.

I look up as I walk, knowing this path by heart. The stars twinkle over the lake, partially covered by clouds. Crickets chirp, and the last of the summer frogs hum in the mud. This autumn will be a short one. Soon, the lakeshore will turn quiet with winter’s waking.

I’m about to open the door to the shed when I spy movement. I relax when I see who it is. Teddy is sitting in Petra’s favorite cushioned deck chair. He has a sweatshirt on with the hood pulled up against the cold. In the glow of the dock light, I see the glint of something in his palm.

“Hej,” I call out.

He jumps, closing his fist tight.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He makes no reply.

Dropping my bag by the door, I sink into the empty chair. “And I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“About my mother. About her dementia. I should have told you.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah … why didn’t you?”

I decide to give him the simplest version of the truth. “It’s hard for me to talk about it. Hard for me to admit how bad it’s getting, even to myself.” I turn to look at him. “But I want to thank you.”

He raises a dark brow. “Thank me?”

“You were kind to her today. You gave her a good day. And, like you said, she has few left.”

He shrugs. “It was no problem. She’s really nice.” Opening his fist again, he looks at the object in his hand.

“What’s that?”

“It’s your mother’s wedding ring.”

I take in the shape of the thin gold ring. “Why do you have it?”

His frown deepens. “She gave it to me. Called it a wedding present. She said it’s been worn by a Karlsson for over a hundred years.”

He offers it to me, and I lean away. “What are you doing?”

“Take it.”

“I can’t take it.”

“Henrik, take it.”

I shake my head. “She gave it to you. It was a gift.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, for your loving husband, your heart’s fire, mate of your fucking soul. She practically recited an epic poem as she worked it off her finger. This ring sounds magical, Henrik. And our marriage is totally fake. I put this on, and your ancestors will know. They’ll smite me. They’ll drown me in the lake. No fucking thanks.”

“Teddy …”

“No, I’m not putting it on. I am not inviting the bad karma of a magical wedding ring into my life. Find another husband to wear it because it won’t be me.” Leaning over further, he taps my elbow with the ring, silently urging me to relieve him of it.

I relent, plucking it from his fingers. Once it’s in my hand, I mirror his action and place it in my palm. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

He shrugs. “Wear it on a chain? Wait and give it to Karolina? Or just save it for a partner you actually love, cherish, and adore.”

I wince, his words rubbing me like sandpaper. It’s less about the words. It’s their delivery. He’s hurt. Somehow, I’ve hurt him again. I didn’t even give him this damn ring, but still I hurt him. “Teddy, I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine.” He rises from the deck chair, unfolding his long legs. “I’m tired. Wanna show me this boat shed?”

I slip my mother’s wedding band on the smallest finger of my right hand and stand. “Fine, but you’ve been warned. It will be a tight fit.”

“Clearly, you’ve never shared a room with three sisters. Consider my expectations managed.”

I lead the way down the side of the dock and back over to the shed. The handle takes some rattling, and the bottom of the door requires a little nudge with my toe, but I get it open. I step in first, crossing the small room to set my bag on the bed.

Teddy follows me in but stops in the doorway. He blinks in the brighter light, taking in the wood paneling, the two simple chairs wedged by the door, and the black wood stove. The kitchenette is little more than a sink and a small refrigerator. But there’s a coffee maker on the counter, and Mom left us some fresh bread and apples.

Teddy’s gaze locks on the far wall of the shed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I glance around, looking for the source of his displeasure. “What’s wrong?”

He points. “There’s only one bed.”

I shrug. “I told you it was a tight fit.”

Groaning, he rubs two fingers at his temple. “Okay, you’re gonna have to stop saying the words ‘tight fit’ to me, like, yesterday.”

“What?”

“There’s only one bed, Henrik. A very small, practically twin-sized bed. If I’m on the bed, where are you gonna sleep? I don’t see a couch in here.” He does a half pivot, as if certain he must have missed part of the shed. He points to the door in the corner. “Where does that lead?”

I fight a smile. “That’s the toilet. Would you prefer one of us sleep in there? Perhaps we could flip for it.”

He glares at me. “Is this a joke to you?”

I drop into one of the chairs and start taking off my boots. “It’s just for one night. Have you never shared a bed before?”

He crosses his arms. “Yeah, of course. With my sisters. Not my—”

I glance up, boot in hand. “Your what?”

He holds my gaze, his eyes reflecting the bright flames of the fire. “Not with you.”

I tug my other boot off, dropping both by the door. “If it’s really a problem for you, I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

He huffs, tugging his sweatshirt off. “Seriously? You’re an NHL superstar who’s a week out from the start of a new season. We’re not messing up your joints or your alignment by making you sleep on a wooden fucking floor. You take the bed. I’ll just take a blanket and go sleep in the chair out on the dock.”

My own sweater muffles my groan as I strip it off. Freeing my arms, I toss the sweater onto the chair. “You’re not sleeping on the dock.”

He slips past me, heading for the bed. “Why not? I like nature.”

Taking my chance, I move to the door and lock it.

“Hey—”

I turn around, pressing my back against the locked door.

Teddy stands across the shed, the bed’s quilt bundled in his arms. “You can’t keep me trapped in here, you psycho.”

“I can, and I will.”

“Henrik—”

“You’re not sleeping on a goddamn deck chair, exposed to the elements. Not when we have a perfectly good bed, and a fire, and a door that locks.”

He blusters, trying to find a new excuse to flee. “The elements? What, are you expecting a hurricane tonight?”

I cross my arms. “No, but we have bears in Sweden.”

He gasps. “You said there are no polar bears in Sweden. Was that a fucking lie?”

“Brown bears. Not polar bears. And we have wolves. And many large birds of prey. And you’re on the edge of a lake, which means mosquitos. They’ll eat you alive. Shall I keep going? Do you need more reasons for staying indoors tonight?”

I watch as his expression falls. He knows he’s defeated.

Good.

Christ, how can a man who is so kind and gentle be so obstinate? So maddening?

I gesture towards the toilet. “Would you like to go first, or shall I?”

He glances over his shoulder at the closed door. Then he drops down to the edge of the bed, still clutching the quilt. “Knock yourself out.”noveldrama

When I finish, I step out to find Teddy stretched out on the bed. One knee is bent, and he has an arm thrown back over his head as he scrolls on his phone. He’s stripped down to his T-shirt and a pair of formfitting boxers. His pants, his sweatshirt, and even his socks are all neatly stacked with his shoes over by the door. His blue head wrap is in place, covering his locs. He wears it every night, sometimes putting it on as soon as he gets back to the apartment.

I can feel the tension weaving itself through the long lines of his body. He doesn’t like being alone with me. Hoping to set him at ease, I clear my throat. “I spoke with Poppy St. James earlier.”

He sits up. “What? When?”

“This afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

I shrug. “You were busy looking at pictures of me dancing around a maypole.” Mom kept him laughing for two hours, telling him stories of our misadventures on holidays. She confused most of the details, but she was still all too eager to tell Teddy about the time I tried to steal a penguin from the Stockholm zoo.

His phone sits ignored as he follows my movement. “Well, what did she say? Was she mad? Oh god, am I gonna lose my job?”

Once again, I’m hit with a wave of regret. Teddy is risking everything by helping me. Not just his family’s ire or his personal reputation. As Poppy not-so-gently reminded me today, this could impact his job security. Fraternization between PTs and players is deeply frowned upon. The team had to move mountains to keep Doctor Price on staff when it came out that she was in an undisclosed relationship with our goalie. The Rays are disinclined to go through that again.

But Teddy and I have done nothing wrong. He was signed with the team for all of three hours before he dropped everything to join me here in Sweden. He never once treated me in any medical or professional capacity. If they dare try to punish him for this, I will fight. I won’t let his helping me stand in the way of his career.

“She’s going to help us,” I assure him.

“What does that mean? Help us how?”

“It means she knows what we’ve done and why, and she intends to help.” Undoing the buckle of my belt, I drop my jeans to the floor and step out of them. I fold and place them next to his neat pile of clothes. “Do you mind if I take off my shirt?”

His eyes go wide. “What?”

“I prefer fewer layers when I sleep.”

He blinks, then looks quickly away. “I … no. That’s … nope. Do your thing.”

Turning my back to him, I pull my T-shirt off, adding it to my pile of clothes. If I were being completely honest, I’d tell him I prefer to sleep fully nude. Since I’m an athlete, my metabolism is always working in overdrive, so my body runs hot. With the fire lit in here, and with sharing a bed, I’ll likely sweat through the damn sheets all night.

Maybe I’m the one who should be sleeping out on a deck chair.

I cross over to the bed. Teddy scoots as far over as he can, wedging himself up against the wall to make room for me. I think by American measurement standards, you’d call this bed full-sized, not twin. But I’m a 6’0” professional hockey player, and Teddy also has an athlete’s long, toned body. We’re going to be stacked together like sardines in a tin.

He grunts, shifting his weight to adjust his pillow. “There’s really no extra bedroom up at the main house?”

I sink down next to him, resting with my back against the wall, legs stretched out atop the quilt. “They converted Petra’s old room into a sewing room when she moved to the city for university. And my room was in the attic. It’s mostly storage now. They keep a child-sized bed in there for Karro.”

Our shoulders brush as we both bend our elbows, holding up our phones to scroll the internet. Tension buzzes around Teddy like a hive of bees. Meanwhile, I’m only pretending to read the stats on this Swedish hockey site. I hate that he’s still so uncomfortable around me. He didn’t seem this anxious when we were in my apartment in Stockholm. We were alone then too. We sat on the couch together, just like this. We watched TV and ate takeout curry. He stole my egg rolls. It was comfortable … or so I thought.

What’s changed?

He stills his thumb from scrolling. “So, did Poppy say anything else?”

“She told us not to worry. Our focus now is Karro and bringing her safely home. She said when we return, she’ll be ready with a plan.”

He glances my way, one dark brow raised. “A plan to what?”

I just shrug. “A plan to get us safely out of this mess.”