The Pucking Player

9. All’s Fair in Love and PR

9

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND PR

SOPHIE

“ A bsolutely not!” I screech, nearly choking on my wine. “There’s no way I’m playing along with this, Jess. Have you completely lost your mind?”

Jessica leans casually against the kitchen island, her posture relaxed, entirely unfazed by my outburst. The warm glow from the pendant lights overhead highlights the amused glint in her eyes. “Come on, Soph. It’s not that big of a deal. It’s one evening. And it’ll do wonders for the team’s image.”

I slam my glass down on the quartz countertop, the sound echoing sharply through the pristine kitchen. Jessica’s kitchen is textbook modern elegance—gleaming stainless-steel appliances, sleek minimalist cabinets, and a view straight out of Architectural Digest . The glass extension at the back of her colonial house offers an unobstructed view of the snow-covered garden, now glowing softly under the lanterns she’s so tastefully placed around the yard.

“Not a big deal?” I sputter, throwing my hands in the air. “You want me to pretend to date Liam O’Connor. Liam. O’Connor. The Defenders’ flagship debauchee! Daddy will have an aneurysm!”

Jessica chuckles, completely unfazed as she turns to stir something fragrant on the stove. The mouthwatering aroma of garlic and herbs fills the room, momentarily distracting me before I snap back to reality. “Dad’s been handled,” she says breezily. “He’s on board. Believe it or not.” She tosses the words over her shoulder like they’re the most natural thing in the world. “And it’s not dating. It’s just attending a gala together.”

I gape at her, utterly convinced I’ve stepped into some alternate dimension. “Daddy… agreed to this? Are we talking about the same Mark Novak? The man who practically dreams of wrapping us in bubble wrap until we’re forty?”

Jessica snorts, her lips twitching into a grin. “The one and only.”

My mind flashes back to last year, right after Jessica started working for the Defenders. Daddy had called us both into his study for what turned out to be the most awkward speech of my entire life. His face had been stern—no, downright apocalyptic. Even worse than the time Adam dented his prized vintage Camaro.

“Now, girls,” he’d begun, pacing the room like some overzealous general about to brief his troops, “you need to understand something about these hockey players.”

Jessica and I had exchanged glances, barely holding back our laughter as he launched into what could only be described as the World’s Most Over-the-Top Fatherly Warning .

“The only thing missing is a PowerPoint,” I’d whispered to Jessica, earning a muffled snicker.

“They’re like...like…” Dad had sputtered, waving a hand in frustration, clearly searching for the right analogy. “Like piranhas ! Yes, piranhas with sticks and charming smiles!”

I’d tried, I really had. But an unwanted laugh had slipped out, earning me an icy glare that could have frozen the Sahara.

“Laugh all you want,” he’d continued, undeterred, his tone as grave as if we were discussing a life-or-death mission. “One minute, you’re innocently chatting about the last game, and the next thing you know, you’re…entangled in some torrid locker room affair!”

Jessica, ever the diplomat, had managed to keep her face mostly straight. “Dad,” she’d said gently, “Rothschild hired me as the head of PR. I think I can handle a few hockey players.”

He’d turned to her, his eyes wide with paternal horror. “That’s exactly what they want you to think! They’ll lure you in with their… their…fancy stick handling and then—BAM!” He’d slammed his hand on the desk for emphasis, making us both jump. “Next thing you know, you’re writing a tell-all memoir and starring on trashy reality TV shows!”

“Seriously, Jess,” I press, pushing the memory of Dad’s ridiculous locker room warning to the back of my mind. “How on earth did you convince him to agree to this? Did you spike his protein shake or something?”

Jessica laughs, shaking her head. “Let’s just say the Defenders hired me for my credentials, not my connections. I can be very persuasive when I need to be.”

I snort, crossing my arms. “Yeah, right. Next thing you’ll tell me he’s cool with Adam’s tattoo.”

The words are out before I can stop them, and I immediately slap a hand over my mouth. Jessica freezes, her spoon hovering midair. Her eyes widen, and her jaw practically hits the floor .

“Adam’s what now?” she exclaims, leaning forward like a shark that’s just scented blood in the water. “Our Adam? Mr. Straight-and-Narrow? Mr. I-never-even-got-detention? That Adam?”

I groan, already regretting my slip. “Oh God, Jess, I wasn’t supposed to say anything. He’s going to kill me.”

Jessica waves off my concern, her curiosity practically bubbling over. “Spill, baby girl. Where is it? What is it? And why on earth wasn’t I informed about this family scandal sooner?”

There’s no way out now. I sigh, setting my glass down and bracing myself. “It’s on his left butt cheek,” I admit reluctantly. “A stylized hockey stick with Fortis fortuna adiuvat written along it.”

Jessica’s eyebrows shoot up in delighted surprise. “Fortune favors the bold,” she translates instantly, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Wow. That’s…actually pretty badass. But why keep it a secret?”

I fidget with my fork, avoiding her gaze. “Do you remember how Dad reacted when you got your belly button pierced? Adam didn’t want to risk it. Plus, I think he likes having something that’s just his—something only I know about.”

Jessica’s expression softens, her playful edge fading for just a moment. “I get it,” she says quietly. “But...I feel a little left out, you know?”

“I know,” I say, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry. We should have told you.”

Her grin returns, slow and mischievous. “Well, now that I know, we can definitely use this as blackmail material.”

I laugh, relieved that she’s not upset. “You’re terrible!”

“I prefer to think of myself as resourceful,” she quips, winking. Then her expression shifts again, this time to something far more speculative. “Speaking of tattoos…you think Liam has any?”

The image that immediately pops into my head—Liam, shirtless, with intricate designs tracing the hard lines of his chest—sends heat spreading across my cheeks.

“Jess!” I sputter, horrified. “I really didn’t need that visual!”

But Jessica is already off and running, waving me off as she ladles the stir-fry into bowls. “I bet he does. Something masculine and mysterious. Maybe a Celtic knot? Or a wolf? Ooh, or maybe something in Gaelic across his shoulders…”

I can’t help it—the mental image is both ridiculous and undeniably enticing. I burst out laughing, Jessica joining in moments later.

“Stop, stop,” I gasp, clutching my sides as the giggles overtake me. “This is not helping!”

Jessica wipes tears of laughter from her eyes, still grinning. “You’re right. Focus. We need to focus.”

She sets the bowls on the island and leans forward, her tone suddenly all business. “Now, are you going to help the team with this gala situation or not?”

I slump onto one of the high-backed barstools, groaning. “That’s low, Jess. Using sick kids against me?”

She shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “All’s fair in love and PR, baby sis.”

As she turns back to the stove, I let my gaze wander around the room. The juxtaposition of her colonial home’s classic exterior with this ultra-modern interior never fails to strike me. It’s so…Jessica. Traditional with a twist. Just like her.

“Besides,” she continues, a sly glint in her eye, “think of the networking opportunities. Top doctors, hospital administrators…people who could really boost your future career. Or, at the very least, open doors.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Fighting dirty is your middle name, big sis.”

Jessica flashes a triumphant grin. “I prefer to think of it as strategic persuasion . ”

I poke at my bowl with my fork. “Why don’t you go with Finn instead? Wouldn’t that be more fun for you? You could show off those sculpted arms of yours in a slinky dress. I bet he’d be all in.”

Jessica’s face immediately scrunches like she’s bitten into a lemon. “Finn? Please. That man is as dense as a hockey puck. I’ve been throwing hints his way for months. I even ‘accidentally’ spilled coffee on my shirt the other day just to see what he’d do.”

“And?” I lean in, intrigued despite myself.

“He offered me a napkin. A napkin, Sophie!” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “I’m starting to think Dad’s secretly injected the entire team with some kind of anti-Novak-daughter vaccine.”

The mental image is too good. I dissolve into laughter. “Oh God, can you imagine? ‘Step right up, boys! One dose, and you’ll be immune to Novak charms forever!’”

Jessica laughs along, but there’s a flicker of frustration in her eyes. “I swear, I could walk into that locker room naked, and they’d just hand me a towel and ask about the weather.”

“Well,” I say, trying to keep a straight face, “it is unseasonably cold. Wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.”

She chucks a piece of broccoli at me. “You’re terrible. But seriously, what’s a girl got to do to get some attention around here? Rent a billboard?”

“‘Attention hockey players,’“ I declare in my best radio voice, “‘Jessica Novak is single and ready to mingle. Inquire within. Warning: Protective father may cause severe bodily harm.’”

We both collapse into another fit of giggles, the earlier tension evaporating like steam.

“See?” Jessica says, wiping her eyes. “Now back to business. You and Liam are perfect for this PR stunt.”

I push my bowl away, suddenly restless. “Look, Jess, I get what you’re trying to do, but…it’s Liam O’Connor we’re talking about. The guy’s a certified heartthrob. And that’s exactly the problem.”

Jessica raises a single eyebrow, a wicked smirk creeping across her face. “Oh? Do tell, little sis.”

I feel heat creeping up my neck. “Don’t give me that look. You know what I mean. He’s…he’s…”

“Devastatingly handsome? Built like Achilles? The star of your naughtiest dreams?” Jessica supplies, grinning like the devil herself.

“Jess!” I bury my face in my hands, completely mortified. “That’s not the point!”

Jessica’s voice softens, dropping that teasing edge just enough to catch me off guard. “Sophie, honey, you’re allowed to have a life outside of med school applications, you know. A little distraction wouldn’t kill you. And besides,” she adds, her lips twitching into a wicked smile, “are you really planning to start med school as a virgin?”

The blush that had finally receded comes rushing back full force. “Jessica! That’s not happening. No way, no how. I need to focus all my energy on getting into the med school of my choice. I can’t…I won’t let anything derail that.”

Jessica smirks like the cat that got the cream, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. “Relax, baby sis. Let me break it down for you and explain how it works: That wouldn’t derail you. If anything, it’d relax you. It’s called stress relief, girlie.” Her grin stretches wide, sly and gleaming. “And honestly? There are worse things than losing it to a guy who knows what he’s doing. You’ve had a crush on him for ages, Soph.”

My sigh comes out louder than I intended, part exasperation, part surrender. “When you put it like that…”

Jessica throws up her hands in mock triumph, laughing. “Finally! See? I’m always right.”

I shake my head, resigned but unable to keep the smile off my face. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. But if Daddy starts handing out chastity belts at the door, I’m out.”

Jessica’s grin is dazzling as she practically dances around the kitchen. “Deal. Now eat up. We’ve got a gala to prepare for, and a certain blue-eyed hockey player to knock off his skates.”

I take a bite of the stir-fry, chewing slowly as I try to suppress the nervous energy bubbling inside me. Damn her cooking. It’s delicious.

“So, Liam?” I ask after a moment, my voice deliberately casual. “What does he think about all this?”

Jessica’s smile turns downright devilish, and I already regret asking. “Oh, I think you’ll find he’s very much on board with the plan,” she says with a wink. “Unlike some of his teammates, Liam doesn’t seem to have any inhibitions. At least, not when it comes to you.”

I roll my eyes, even as a small, traitorous smile tugs at the corner of my lips. “Yeah, yeah. You win. But speaking of med school…I’ve been thinking a lot about Stanford lately.”

Jessica perks up, curiosity flickering across her face. “Stanford, huh? California sunshine and palm trees? I get the appeal. But what about Columbia? It’s Mom’s alma mater, after all.”

I nod quickly, not wanting to dismiss the idea. “Columbia’s an incredible school, and it’s definitely in the running. Plus, it would keep me close to everyone here, which is hard to ignore.”

Jessica tilts her head, her green eyes thoughtful. “So then why Stanford?”

“I don’t know… The program just feels like a better fit for what I want to do. They’ve got cutting edge research in pediatric oncology and some amazing mentorship opportunities. Plus, I’ll admit, the idea of living somewhere sunny year-round is very tempting. I love New York, but these brutal winters?” I give her a pointed look.

We spend the next hour dissecting the pros and cons of each school, Jessica playing devil’s advocate like the PR mastermind she is. It’s one of the things I love most about her—how she challenges me to see things from every angle.

As the night wears on, I feel the tension from earlier easing, the nerves about Liam and the gala fading into the background. But even as we laugh and chat, a small part of my brain keeps circling back to one thought: What’s it going to be like to walk into that event on Liam O’Connor’s arm?

“So,” I ask, trying to sound offhand, “when exactly is this important gala?”

Jessica freezes, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Seriously? Have you been living under a rock, Soph? It’s the day after tomorrow!”

“What?” My voice shoots up an octave. “That’s…that’s so soon! Jess, I can’t possibly be ready in time. What about a dress? I don’t have anything even close to gala-worthy!”

A lazy grin spreads across Jessica’s face. “Oh, ye of little faith,” she says, grabbing my hand and practically dragging me out of the kitchen.

I barely have time to protest before she’s hauling me up the stairs and into her bedroom. Jess’s room is like stepping into a five-star hotel—plush cream linens on the king-size bed, a chaise longue by the bay window, and the pièce de résistance : her walk-in closet.

When she flings open the double doors, I can’t help but let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl,” I murmur, running my fingers over a row of silk blouses. “This is what I want when I grow up.”

She laughs, already rummaging through a section of evening gowns. “Honey, you’re going to be a doctor. You’ll be able to afford three of these closets. Ah-ha!” With a triumphant flourish, she pulls out a garment bag and unzips it to reveal a stunning beige evening gown.

The dress is deceptively simple from the front—clean lines, a modest neckline. But when she turns it around, my breath catches. The back plunges daringly low, the silk draping in a way that’s both elegant and undeniably sexy.

“Nora Kemal to the rescue,” Jessica declares proudly. “Isn’t she the best?”

“Jess,” I breathe, reaching out to touch the smooth fabric. “It’s gorgeous. But…isn’t it a bit much? I mean, it’s practically screaming ‘fuck me.’ ”

“Precisely!” Jessica beams, holding it up to me. “Come on, girl. Live a little! When’s the last time you dressed up and felt sexy?”

“I…well…” I stammer, trying to come up with a time.

How about never?

“That’s what I thought,” Jessica says smugly. “Besides, it’s for a good cause. Think of the children!”

I roll my eyes. “Low blow, Jess. ”

“Just try it on.” She waggles the dress at me like a carrot on a stick.

I hesitate, eyeing the gown warily. But then I imagine how the silk will feel against my skin. And, okay, fine, I imagine Liam’s reaction too.

That’s all it takes for me to grab the gown and start changing.