The Goalie’s Gamble (Maple Creek: Thunder #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

CJ

The thing about bets is that they always sound like a good idea in the moment.

Especially when you’re me.

CJ Morgan. Goalie for the Maple Creek Thunder. King of the crease. Patron saint of pranks and poor decisions.

I live for the thrill, the laugh, the cheer, the roar from the guys when I pull something stupid but glorious. My philosophy has always been simple: keep it light. Don’t get too serious, because serious means pressure, pressure means expectations, and expectations? They crush you.

But today… today, I might’ve gone a little too far.

“A hundred bucks says you can’t chug it,” Ryder challenges, sliding the protein shake across the locker room bench toward me.

The smell hits me before the bottle even stops rolling. Milk, old bananas, what looks like Pop Rocks, and—what the hell?—maybe tuna? Someone’s blended a nightmare.

I eye it, my grin already forming. “That’s it? A hundred bucks?”

Ryder smirks. “And bragging rights.”

I tip my head toward Logan Carter, our oh-so-broody captain, who’s pulling his jersey over his head like he’s allergic to fun. “What do you think, Cap? Worth the risk?”

He doesn’t even look at me. “Don’t.”

Which, obviously, makes me want to do it more.

Declan Hayes chuckles from his spot, lacing up his skates. “You’re going to regret it.”

“Regret?” I grin wider. “Never heard of her.”

The guys hoot as I snatch the bottle, pop the lid, and down the whole thing in one go. It’s warm, lumpy, and tastes like death on a summer sidewalk. I gag halfway through, my eyes watering, but I finish it, slamming the bottle down like I just won the Stanley Cup.

“Boom,” I declare, arms spread wide. “Pay up, Mercer.”

Jake Mercer, our rookie forward, looks both impressed and horrified. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely awesome,” I correct. “And you all doubted me.”

CJ: 1, Sanity: 0.

The locker room erupts with laughter, half of them cheering, half of them dry-heaving in sympathy.

And then, because the universe loves me, our coach walks in.

The laughter dies faster than a bad Tinder date.

Coach Pearson stops dead in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene. Me standing triumphant with an empty bottle of what can only be described as biological warfare, and the guys trying not to choke on their amusement.

His gaze zeroes in on me. “Morgan.”

I grin, like that’s going to help. “Hey, Coach. Just… uh… working on my endurance?”

The silence is deafening.

Logan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s got a migraine.

Coach’s jaw ticks. “My office. Now.”

I groan as I do as he orders.

His office smells like leather, sweat, and disappointment. I flop into the chair across from his desk, trying for casual charm.

“Look, before you say anything, I’d like to point out that technically, I won.”

Pearson stares at me. “Do you think this is funny?”

“Well… kind of.”

“It’s not.” He leans forward, his voice sharp. “After last year’s scandal, this team is hanging by a thread. Management is breathing down my neck, sponsors are watching our every move, and you decide to act like a frat boy on camera?”

“On camera?” I blink.

He swivels his monitor around.

Oh, hell.

There I am in glorious high-definition, courtesy of someone’s phone. The video already has thousands of views on social media. Comments are rolling in: Thunder’s goalie losing his mind, Maple Creek milk challenge, and my personal favorite, goalies are built different.

“Okay,” I say slowly, “in my defense, that was not supposed to go online.”

Pearson’s glare could melt ice. “In your defense, you’re an idiot.”

“Harsh.”

He doesn’t flinch. “You’re lucky management didn’t suspend you. Instead, they’ve decided on a different kind of punishment.”

I sit up a little straighter. “Punishment? Like… running laps? Extra drills? Please don’t say kale smoothies.”

“Community service.”

I blink, my mind stalling for a beat. “Come again?”

“You’ll be working at the Maple Creek Youth Center for the next two months. Three days a week. No exceptions.”

“You’re kidding,” I gape at him.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Honestly? Sometimes. You’ve got that deadpan thing going on.”

His stare hardens. “One more word and I’ll make it four days a week.”

I snap my mouth shut. Community service. At a youth center. I mean… how bad could it be?

I find out the next afternoon when I show up at the Youth Center in my Thunder hoodie, backward cap, and with my most charming grin. Turns out, the youth center is not impressed with CJ Morgan, NHL goalie extraordinaire.

The place is a converted brick gym with posters of smiling kids and motivational quotes peeling off the walls.

The woman waiting for me in the lobby is not smiling. “Cameron Morgan?” she asks, clipboard in hand.

I wince. “CJ, actually. No one calls me Cameron.”

Her eyes flick up. Sharp, assessing, unimpressed. “Right. I’m Jada. Follow me.”

I do as she says, debating whether to make eye contact as I follow her down to an office. The sign on the door says Olivia Walker, Director. I’m guessing this is who I’ll be reporting to.

Better make a good first impression, I think, taking a deep breath and stepping into the room.

And just like that, the breath I just took freezes in my lungs.

Because Olivia Walker is… not what I expected.

She’s gorgeous in a no-nonsense, buttoned-up kind of way. Dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, a fitted sweater that does things to my concentration, and eyes that look like they could cut through steel.

“Good luck,” Jada mumbles before she heads out.

I nod distractedly, staring at her boss like an idiot.

When Olivia looks up at me, I’m struck by a thought.

Maybe this punishment isn’t going to be as easy as I thought, but damn if it isn’t about to get interesting.