The Captain's Slapshot Baby

1. AVA

AVA

The First Lie

My drink is halfway to my mouth when I forget how to swallow.

It's not the chandelier I spent days fighting an electrician over, finally hanging straight above the VIP lounge I redesigned from the studs up.

Tonight is technically work for me.

My company handled the redesign of the lounge ahead of the LA Ice Foundation's annual charity gala, which means I'm here to make sure nothing catches fire, nobody discovers a last-minute disaster, and hopefully shake hands with enough wealthy people to turn tonight into a few future clients.

So far, I've accomplished two out of three.

It's not even the hockey players scattered around the room in tuxedos, all broad shoulders and expensive suits stretched over bodies that definitely weren't designed with formalwear in mind.

Though that's distracting enough.

No, it's the man standing at the bar.

Dark suit. Broad shoulders. One hand wrapped around a glass as he listens to the guy beside him with an expression that suggests he'd rather be almost anywhere else.

Kai Donovan.

Captain of LA Ice.

And apparently capable of making standing still look like a threat.

"Ava."

I tear my attention away to find Riley making her way toward me with Easton Blake beside her.

"Hi." I smile. "You made it."

I met Riley a few weeks ago when she and her friend Quinn stopped by to see the space during the redesign.

They were only supposed to take a quick peek, but somehow they ended up staying for almost an hour while I argued with a contractor about lighting.

The next time Riley came by, she brought me coffee.

We aren't exactly friends. Not yet, anyway.

But I like her a lot.

She's easy to talk to, and despite being married to one of the most famous hockey players in the country, she's surprisingly down-to-earth. She's one of those people who somehow makes you feel like you've known her much longer than you have.

"Barely." Riley exhales dramatically. "This is one of the few times we've both left Molly for more than an hour, and Easton's checked his phone approximately four hundred times."

She and Easton are both dressed for the gala, but there's something adorably exhausted about them that all the expensive clothes in the world can't hide.

"How is the baby?"

"Perfect," Riley says immediately.

"Sleeping," Easton adds, already looking at his phone again.

I grin into my drink.

New parents. Completely hopeless.

Then Riley glances toward the bar, and something lights in her expression.

"Oh. Have you met Kai yet?"

My stomach drops.

"I—no."

"I'll introduce you."

Before I can decide whether that's a good idea, Riley catches my arm and steers me toward the bar.

Okay. Fine.

This is fine.

He's just a man.

A very large man whose face I've apparently been staring at for the last five minutes, but still.

A man.

"Kai."

He turns at Riley's voice.

Up close is worse. Much worse.

He's taller than I expected, broader too, with dark hair, a slightly crooked nose, and a face that looks like it probably improves after a fight. His brown eyes settle on Riley first, then move to me.

Something hot pools low in my stomach.

Don't.

Riley gestures between us. "Kai, this is Ava Hartley. Her company redesigned the VIP lounge."

Kai's gaze shifts to me. "Ava, Kai Donovan."

"I know who you are." The words are out before I can stop them.

Kai's mouth twitches.

"I mean—" I clear my throat. "You're the captain."

"Last time I checked."

Excellent, Ava. Really smooth.

I stick out my hand before I can make things worse.

His closes around mine.

Warm. Calloused. Firm.

His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, and I have absolutely no idea whether it's intentional or if my suddenly overactive imagination has started inventing things.

"I know who you are too," he says.

That catches me off guard. "You do?"

His gaze moves briefly around the room. "You're the reason this place doesn't look like a furniture showroom anymore."

Riley glances between us, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

"Well, I'm going to go find my husband before he decides we need to make an emergency trip home to Molly." She touches my arm. "It was good seeing you, Ava."

"You too."

She gives me a quick wave and disappears into the crowd.

When I turn back, Kai's still looking at me.

I take a sip of my drink to give myself something to do. The champagne is terrible.

"So, being captain must come with a lot of responsibility."

Wow, Ava. Riveting. Next, ask him about the weather.

"It does," Kai says.

"Do you abuse it?"

A smirk appears on his face. "Every chance I get."

He steps close enough, I can smell his cologne. Can count the hairs on his neatly trimmed beard.

"That's terrible leadership," I say, slanting my head.

“I never claimed to be a saint, Ava. Just the guy with the C on his sweater.”

I snort, tilting my chin up. “Please. You took the blame for Wyatt’s missed assignment in the third the other night. Sounds pretty damn saintly to me.”

His brow lifts.

“I read the post-game transcript,” I add.

The surprise in his eyes melts into something darker, warmer. "It wasn't his fault. I called the wrong coverage."

"Was it?"

"Doesn't matter now."

He leans against the marble bar, resting a heavy forearm on the polished edge. It’s so casual I almost miss the way he’s subtly trapped me, his broad shoulders cutting off the rest of the glittering room.

"I'm flattered you're tracking my media appearances," he murmurs. "Is sports journalism a passion of yours?"

A flush creeps up my neck. I might have fallen down a rabbit hole of his interview clips earlier, but that was purely professional prep.

"It's called basic research, Donovan."

"Right. Research." A faint smirk tugs at his mouth, his eyes dropping to the line of my jaw with a look so heavy my heart hitches. "Find anything else interesting?"

Images of a shirtless, sweat-glistening Kai on his gym's Instagram flash through my mind. Purely for research, obviously.

"Not a thing."

"Sure, Ava." The disbelief in his voice is rich and warm.

I should step back. Reclaim my personal space and draw a clear line between us.

I don't move an inch.

My self-preservation instinct went completely out the window the moment he started talking.

I've lived in LA long enough to know who Kai Donovan is even before this.

But seeing him on a screen is nothing like standing this close to him.

He has the kind of gravity that turns the rest of the room into background noise—a mix of effortless swagger and quiet, dangerous intent.

And right now, he's looking at me like I'm the only interesting thing in a room full of champagne and old money.

The smart play would be to keep this light. One drink. One sarcastic conversation. Something to tell Lucy about later.

But I've never been particularly smart about the things I really want.

I lean in just enough for the dark silk of my dress to whisper against his suit jacket. "Then tell me, Captain. If the blame doesn't matter... what does?"

His gaze sharpens, dropping from my eyes to the curve of my mouth, taking his time before slowly tracking back up. The air between us suddenly feels twice as heavy.

Heat climbs up my neck, hot and persistent.

"What matters is simple," he murmurs, his voice dipping low enough that it vibrates right down my spine. "You. Me. And how fast we can get out of here."

I let out a soft, breathy laugh, resting one fingernail lightly against the lapel of his tailored jacket. "Is that your opening play? I expected a little more finesse from a star center."

"Finesse is for the ice," Kai says, his hand coming up to rest on the bar right next to my hip, trapping me in the best possible way. "Off the ice, I prefer direct routes. Saves time."

"And what makes you think I'm on board with your route?"

"Your pulse," he says smoothly, his fingers shifting just enough to brush the inside of my wrist where my heart is hammering out a frantic rhythm. "It's telling on you, Ava."

"That's just the champagne."

"Lie to me again," he whispers, leaning down until his lips almost graze the shell of my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver straight down my spine. "See what happens."

My breath hitches, but I force my gaze to stay steady as he pulls back just far enough to look me in the eye. "Is that a threat, Captain?"

"A promise," Kai corrects softly, his eyes darkening into something thick and visual.

He tilts his head, his thumb lightly tracing the sensitive skin on the back of my wrist, sending a sharp spark of heat up my arm.

"You tell me another lie tonight, and I stop being polite about taking what I want. "

He steps in a fraction closer, his chest pressing lightly against mine, effectively trapping me against the edge of the bar.

"Lie to me one more time, Ava," he murmurs, his dark eyes locking onto mine with ruthless intent. "And I stop playing nice. I'll haul you out of this dull party, throw you in the back of my car, and spend the rest of the night proving to you exactly how little the champagne had to do with it."

The silence between us stretches, heavy and electric. My throat goes completely dry, my mind racing to keep up with the sudden, fierce shift in the air.

"So," Kai whispers, his smirk returning, slow and dangerous as his fingers slide up to lightly grasp my hip. "Go ahead, Ava. Lie to me."

So I do.