Wild Darling (Darling Devils #3)

Chapter 1 Mackenzie

Summer of freshman year

“Hockey is just a guy’s sport, you know?

” It was the last thing I felt like hearing at the end of a hard first day at hockey camp.

All I wanted was to eat my dinner in peace.

But the boy sitting across from me in the dining hall wouldn’t shut up.

And between his casual misogyny and the way he talked with his mouth full of food, peace was hard to come by.

“See, girls are naturally weaker,” he explained as he gnawed on a chicken wing. “They’re not as fast, and nowhere near as strong.”

I was far too horrified by the massacre taking place inside his mouth to respond. The way his chewed food sloshed around was putting me off my own dinner, and yet I couldn’t seem to look away.

“Like you.” He pointed his chicken wing in my direction. “Way too short, especially for a goalie.”

I wasn’t sure the guy even realized he was being insulting. Given his cheery tone, we could easily have been talking about something as simple as the weather. Not his belief that girls didn’t belong on an elite ice hockey summer camp—or playing the game at all.

“Shows how much you know,” my brother said calmly from beside me. “Shorter goalies are usually much more agile. Mackenzie’s reflexes are insane.”

“Whatever,” the guy snorted. “I think we all know the only reason your dad opened the camp up to girls this year was to check the diversity box.”

“Actually—” My brother tried to object but Chicken Wings kept on talking.

“I guess having a few girls around camp isn’t the worst thing in the world.” He was grinning now, a large piece of his dinner hanging from his teeth. “It is nice to have something pretty to look at.”

“Watch it, dude,” Max warned.

But I didn’t need my brother to defend me. I was already leaning forward on the table, smiling as sweetly as I could at the guy. “Yes, I guess you’re right, there’s obviously no way I could ever be as skilled as you.”

He winked. “You haven’t seen half my skills. Yet…”

“Seriously,” I continued. “It’s really impressive—you can talk, think and chew all at the same time. I’m sure that’s just what they’re looking for in the NHL.”

It took a moment for him to process, but then his grin quickly transformed into a scowl as a few girls at the other end of our table started to snigger.

His gaze flashed to my brother. “Can you get your sister in line?”

Max simply shrugged. “She’s got a point.”

Our friend shot me a glare as he gathered his things and stood up.

“Just because your dad played in the NHL, doesn’t mean he passed any of his talent onto you two.” He stormed away, and I swore I could still hear him chewing as he went.

I should have known the guy was a jerk the moment he sat down; the peroxide-blond tips were a dead giveaway. But while I was relieved to see him go, a small part of me—the insecure part I mostly tried to ignore—wondered if he might be right.

My dad had refused to let me play hockey competitively my whole life.

He didn’t usually take much of an interest in my hobbies, but something about me and hockey turned him into a stubborn, irrational tyrant.

It didn’t matter to him that I’d spent years practicing with my brother.

That I’d been stopping pucks since the moment I first learned to skate, when Max realized he could prop me up in front of a net.

No, as far as he was concerned, Chicken Wings was right. I didn’t belong here.

Still, I was here. From the moment I’d heard my dad was adding a girls’ team to his famous summer camp, I hadn’t stopped bugging him.

And he’d finally caved. Now, I had one chance to show him I deserved to play.

The only problem? He hadn’t once looked my way since the start of camp.

The girls practiced with a separate coach, and Dad was too focused on his role coaching the boys.

How could I impress him with my skills when he wasn’t even aware I had any?

“Remind me to never piss you off,” my brother said, smiling.

I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face. “I know, I should have just ignored him, but it’s been a long day and he really got on my nerves.”

“Hey, he deserved it. I’m surprised you didn’t knee him in the balls for that ‘something pretty to look at’ comment.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t knee him in the balls for hitting on your little sister.”

“Why would I do that? You’ve got knees of your own, and I’ve seen you use them plenty of times before.

” His expression turned thoughtful. “Seriously though, I don’t care what that dude says, you belong here just as much as anyone.

You were brilliant out there today, Kenz. Didn’t let a single goal in.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t even see me play today. You were busy trying to impress Dad, just like everyone else.”

“Okay, fine,” he admitted. “I heard you didn’t let a single goal in. And I don’t need to impress Dad.”

“Uh huh.”

Everyone wanted to impress Wade Foster, even Max.

And not just because Dad was the founder of this camp and the head coach of the boys’ team.

He’d played in the NHL for years, but he took a break when my mom got sick.

After she died, he tried to go back to playing but barely lasted a season.

He retired and turned to high school coaching.

Over the years his reputation for nurturing young talent had become legendary.

More of his protégés went on to become professional hockey players than any other high school coach in the country.

And this camp was where the magic happened.

At least, it was for those who our dad deemed worthy.

He only selected the best players to train with him personally.

I glanced down at my dinner. My appetite still hadn’t returned after I got put off chicken wings for life, so I pushed my plate toward my brother and stood.

“Where are you going?” he asked, barely hesitating as he happily took my food. The boy usually ate more in one meal than I did in a whole day. At least he knew how to do it with his mouth closed.

“Back to the rink.”

“But we practiced all day.”

“Yeah, I know. I just want to skate for a bit and clear my head.”

He shrugged, then turned to the full plate in front of him.

It was getting cooler out as I made my way to the ice arena. The locker room was empty as I changed back into my gear, and I was pleased to find the rink just as vacant. I smiled as I slid onto the ice, which must have been freshly resurfaced because it was smooth and clean under my skates.

The coaches had told us the rink was off limits outside official practice sessions, but I figured if my dad was running the camp, I might be able to get away with it.

And to be honest, it felt worth the risk.

I’d been waiting for this opportunity for years, and I didn’t want to waste a second of it.

As I warmed up, the sound of skates hitting the ice drew my attention.

I turned to find my rink had been invaded by a boy.

He was wearing one of the camp practice jerseys with the number twelve stitched to the back of it.

He didn’t look my way, and his focus was on the puck in front of him as he skated over to the net on the opposite side of the ice.

I knew I should probably leave him be. But the ice was off limits, and I didn’t really want an audience right now.

“You’re not supposed to be out here,” I called to him.

He spun around, and I swallowed as I took him in. Dark hair. Bright blue eyes. Lips that hinted at trouble. He was tall, about my age, and there was a cheeky grin on his face that told me he was unbothered by my warning.

“The rink is closed after practice,” I continued, skating closer. “They told everyone at orientation. You don’t want the coaches to catch you.”

I came to a stop by him and pulled off my helmet, shaking out my blonde hair. His eyes widened with surprise, but it was only for a moment before pure mischief filled his gaze. “You’re here.”

“Yes, well…” I paused, not wanting to pull the Wade Foster card.

“You…” he prompted.

“I’m special,” I finally replied.

“I can’t argue with that.”

The way his lips curved and his eyes glittered made it hard to remember what we’d been talking about. Boys my age were supposed to be awkward and annoying. Their eyes weren’t supposed to glitter.

“Okay, good,” I replied. “Bye then.”

I went to turn away, but he called out. “Sorry, special, but I didn’t say I was leaving. If you want the rink to yourself, you’ll have to play me for it.”

“What?”

“If I score on you, I get to stay. You stop me, I’ll get out of your hair.”

My eyes narrowed. “You think you can score on me?”

“I want to stay on the ice, and I’ll do just about anything to make that happen.”

I paused as I considered him. “Why do you want to stay on the ice so bad? Is it really worth getting in trouble for?”

“I think I’m already in trouble.” The way he smiled was totally disarming. I got the distinct impression he was used to getting away with anything he wanted.

I shook my head. “You really expect that to work?”

“Kind of. I thought girls were into guys who fall in love at first sight.”

“You haven’t fallen in love with me.”

“I’m already picking out our wedding playlist.”

I groaned. “Be serious.”

He released a breathy laugh. “Okay, you want serious?”

“Please.”

“Apparently I made a bad impression on a certain superstar coach.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but the light in his eyes dimmed a little. “I need to prove him wrong.”

He had to be talking about my dad, and the frustration in his voice was clear. It wasn’t surprising. I knew first-hand how frustrating my dad could be. Perhaps we had more in common than I thought.

“But more importantly, I think I’m in love with you…”

I couldn’t stop a laugh escaping me, though I did my best to make it sound like I was laughing at him.

“Fine, you’re on,” I said. “But only to shut you up. And I should warn you, I’m on a hot streak today.”