Chapter 4
FOUR
Violet
Logan Carter is ridiculously easy to mess with.
I don’t even have to try that hard. A little teasing, a bit of sugar-sweet defiance, and bam —instant scowl.
It’s almost too easy.
But what’s not easy is the way he looks at me when he thinks I don’t notice.
Like when I was making breakfast—if you can call peanut butter on a spoon breakfast. I caught him watching me, his gaze dark and unreadable, the muscle in his jaw twitching like he was gritting his teeth so hard they might crack.
I don’t know why it sends a thrill through me, but it does.
And I know I shouldn’t push him.
Logan is off-limits.
He’s my brother’s best friend. The team’s captain. The king of rules and discipline, which makes him the worst possible person to develop a crush on.
Not that I have a crush.
I did—past tense.
I had a massive, ridiculous, embarrassing crush on Logan Carter from the time I was sixteen until… well, until right now. But it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t see me like that.
I’m Declan’s little sister to him. Nothing more.
Which is probably for the best.
Because Logan Carter?
He’s the kind of man who could ruin me.
Logan left.
Not that I’m surprised. The man practically ran out the door, like spending another minute in my presence might kill him.
Which, honestly? Rude.
I know I’m a lot. I talk too much, push too hard, and have a terrible habit of making people uncomfortable when I sense they need it. But Logan? He’s been avoiding me since forever like I’m some walking test of his self-control.
And okay, maybe I am.
Not intentionally. Not really.
I just like messing with him.
It’s fun watching Mr. Captain Serious struggle to deal with my existence in his perfectly structured world. And if I pretend that the way his deep, gravelly voice sounds when he tells me no doesn’t send a thrill down my spine?
Well. That’s my business.
I grab my laptop and sprawl across the couch, pulling up the team’s social media pages.
My first official task as the new Maple Creek Thunder social media manager is to find a way to make this team look less like a bunch of intense, brooding hockey players and more like a team fans can connect with.
Which is… a challenge.
They don’t have much online presence besides game highlights and the occasional charity event. There’s zero personality behind the posts. No locker room content, no funny clips, nothing to make fans feel invested in the guys beyond what they do on the ice.
I bite my lip, drumming my fingers against the keyboard.
The team needs a face. Someone to represent them, to get fans excited and engaged.
Someone like?—
My eyes flick to the framed team captain photo on Logan’s wall.
An idea sparks.
Oh, he’s going to hate this.
I grab my phone and open the team’s Instagram, fingers flying as I type:
Meet the man who enforces the rules, runs the drills, and ensures the Thunder stays in line…
I attach a very serious, very broody photo of Logan from last season and post it to the Thunder’s stories with a poll:
Captain Carter: Team Dad or Hockey’s Grumpiest Grump?
I set my phone down, stretching out on the couch, waiting for the inevitable.
It doesn’t take long.
My phone buzzes just minutes later.
Logan: What did you do?
Me: Just helping your PR. You’re welcome.
A few seconds later:
Logan: Take it down.
Me: I would, but the people have spoken. 87% say you’re hockey’s grumpiest grump. That’s a landslide victory, Carter.
Silence.
I grin, tossing my phone aside, knowing I’ve successfully gotten under his skin.
Later that afternoon, I step into the rink for my first official team meeting with management. It’s a chance to discuss content ideas, get the players involved, and—most importantly—prove that I belong here.
I square my shoulders and head toward the conference room, only to be intercepted by Declan.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
I blink up at him innocently. “Enjoying what?”
He snorts. “Messing with Logan.”
I smirk. “It’s a public service, really.”
Declan shakes his head. “Just… don’t push too hard. Logan takes his role seriously. The last thing he needs is a distraction.”
The reminder stings more than I expected.
A distraction.
Is that all I am?
I shake it off and head into the meeting, determination burning in my veins. I’m here to do a job, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone—including Logan Carter—make me feel like I don’t deserve it.
That night, I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, reviewing analytics from my post earlier, when Logan storms in, looking like he’s seconds away from strangling me.
I take a sip of my tea and glance up at him. “Problem, Captain?”
He glares. “The poll. Take it down.”
I arch a brow. “Why? It’s good engagement.”
“I don’t need ‘engagement.’”
“Well, the fans love it.”
He runs a hand down his face. “Violet.”
“Logan.”
His jaw tics. “You can’t post things like that without running them by me.”
“Technically, I can. It’s my job.”
He exhales sharply, staring at me like I’m the bane of his existence.
I grin. “I hope you’re ready for tomorrow.”
He narrows his eyes. “What’s tomorrow?”
I tap my phone screen, showing him my next idea.
Meet the Maple Creek Thunder’s biggest softie.
I attach a photo of CJ hugging a stray puppy at an event last season.
Logan stares at it, then at me. “You’re relentless.”
I flash him a bright smile. “And you’re stuck with me.”
He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is going to be a long season.”
I sip my tea, victorious.
Oh, this is going to be fun.