Pucked in the Kitchen: a BBW Hockey Romance
1. Natalie
NATALIE
“Oh my god, Emile!” I grouch, up to my elbows in flour while my phone keeps buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. I try to ignore it, focusing on kneading the dough for beignets. The recipe has to be perfect for the grand opening of my new restaurant, and even though I’m trying to perfect it in the middle of a construction zone, I won”t let anything distract me. Not even my brother”s incessant texts that are likely about his first day of training with his new hockey team.
Oh, who am I kidding? I”ve been dying to hear all about the Sugar City Nighthawks since he signed with them last month. Specifically, I”m dying to hear about their captain, Luc Bouchard. I may have spent a few hours—OK, days—googling him and daydreaming about those piercing blue eyes and chiseled jaw…sigh… I mean, who wouldn”t become a puddle of willingness just looking at this man? He is a walking, talking, skating Adonis. And after all of these years of being a Nighthawks fan from afar, I actually have a chance to one day meet him and possible shake his hand. I’d never wash mine again—which would be incredibly problematic due to my job, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Wiping my hands on my apron, I grab my phone, scrolling through the messages.
Emile: Get your ass over here, sis! You won”t believe how awesome the arena is from the inside!
Emile: OMG. Hurry the fuck up and answer. I HAVE NEWS!!!!
Emile: OK fine. I’ll tell you anyway. Coach is putting me on the first line with Bouchard! I”m freaking out!
Emile: OK. Keep ignoring me. But you have to come to the home opener next week. I”ll get you VIP tickets ;)
The moment I finish reading his texts, I squeal, startling my sous chef who’s prepping vegetables next to me. ”Sorry, Louis! My brother just got put on the first line with Luc Bouchard! Can you believe that?”
Louis shrugs and raises an eyebrow. ”And this is exciting because...?”
”Because Luc Bouchard is the hottest thing on ice since the Zamboni was invented!” I sigh, picturing those broad shoulders and tight hockey pants.
”Ah, I see.” Louis smirks. ”And you think he”s going to fall madly in love with you when you meet?”
I snort. ”Please, I”m a realist. Guys like that have their pick of the litter. They don”t go for curvy, flour-covered chefs like me. But even a big girl can dream, right? And ogle. Definitely ogle.”
Louis blows a raspberry. “You sell yourself short, Nat. Not only are you stunning, but a woman who can make mouthwatering meals doesn”t need to rely on looks alone. Besides, who knows what might happen when you meet this Luc Bouchard in person? Sparks could fly!”
I chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. ”Oh, please. I don”t believe in fairy tales, Louis. I”ve got a restaurant to create a menu for and a construction crew to boss around, I don”t have time to entertain unrealistic daydreams about hot-as-fuck hockey players. Those kinds of dreams are best kept for nighttime,” I say, giving him a wink. Louis chuckles and shakes his head, returning to his vegetable chopping. I grin to myself, shaking off the silly thoughts of meeting Luc Bouchard. As much as I may fantasize about a chance encounter with the Nighthawks” captain, I’m not about to lose my head over the guy. I do have some dignity. And besides, meeting your heroes in real life rarely turns out well.