Wicked Pucking Orc (The Orc Hockey League #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Lila

My heels clicked against the vinyl tiling as I hurried down the familiar utilitarian hallway. How many hours had I spent running up and down these halls, full of sugar and excitement to hit the ice?

When I’d been younger, it had made perfect sense to me that Daddy owned the Bramblebluff Ice Complex. Of course he did; he knew how much I loved to skate!

It was only after graduating college and looking at the records of his real estate acquisitions—and realizing how much of a loss leader an ice arena actually was—that I realized he’d only purchased it because he wanted me to have a place to practice.

So now, returning here always made me smile.

Even if my professional skating days were behind me.

There’d been a time when I only showed up here in leotards or rehearsal leggings, but I’d put that world behind me.

Now, when I did make time to skate for fun, I wore comfortable clothing, rather than the sparkly costumes Daddy used to spend an outrageous amount on to satisfy my glittery princess soul.

Today I was dressed in what I called my professional persona.

As much as I might still love sequins, the head of the charity arm of Fairbanks Enterprises needed to appear a certain way in public: silk blouse, pencil skirt, upswept blonde hair, simple pearl earrings.

It was as much a costume as any I’d worn on the ice.

My steps slowed as I turned down the hallway to the executive offices.

This is where the managers and medical staff of the arena worked, but Daddy also had an office here for when he didn’t want to work at Fairbanks headquarters.

The décor here was more artsy, less practical, and the framed photos on the wall tended to feature more landscapes and less of the signed photographs of figure skaters and hockey players that dominated the public areas.

Still, the television in the atrium was playing a hockey game.

Not just any game; the game.

The last game of the second round of the playoffs, the one the Teal Terrors lost.

I blew out a breath and realized my feet had stopped moving entirely. I clutched my notebook to my chest and watched the inevitable play out on screen.

The Terrors were the Orc Hockey League’s youngest team, and were made up of orcs who had made their home here in the Rockies. Daddy had been excited when he’d convinced a coach to set up a team here at the ice complex; they played their games at the nearby arena, but this place was their home.

A home they shared with the youth league and all the hopeful figure skaters in the county.

I’d been in college when Daddy had announced his plans one Thanksgiving, and I remembered I’d carefully set down my dessert spoon, wiped my lips with my linen napkin, cleared my throat, and politely blurted, “Orc hockey?”

“It’s all the rage, Pumpkin,” he’d assured me. “The country loves hockey, and this league is even more brutal. Have you ever met an orc male? They’re huge, powerful, and fierce.” He’d used his finger to mime the shape of tusks. “Fans are going to go nuts for seeing them beat on each other.”

I hadn’t understood the appeal then, and I still didn’t.

I’d been raised to know which knife to use on fish, how to address an ambassador, and what thread count constituted an acceptable hostess gift. The thought of two males hitting each other with sticks wasn’t particularly appealing.

But I’ll admit that, like the rest of the area, I’d been caught up with support for the Terrors. I wore shades of teal or turquoise on game day, and I loved to watch Daddy’s enthusiasm for the team.

Which meant that I shared everyone’s excitement when we’d advanced to the second round of the playoffs in the spring…and disappointment when we’d lost to the Crimson Crushers by one goal.

Standing there, watching the game unravel all over again, I chewed my lip, knowing what I was about to see.

Kardok.

He was the Terrors’ talented forward, an enforcer who didn’t seem to know the meaning of fear.

He took all the risks and was rewarded with success more often than not.

When one of those chances paid off, he had this sort of celebration that drove the female fans wild; he’d turn to the glass and open his mouth wide and stick out his tongue…

and pretend to lick something in front of him.

I have no idea if it was an orc thing, or if it was just his version of an endzone dance…but I was not immune to it.

The camera zoomed in on him now, and I felt my breath catch. God, he was hot, wasn’t he? Even behind that ridiculous mask they all wore, even with the features I should find foreign or unattractive, Kardok had this primal sort of magnetism.

And his tongue? Wide and gray and ridged? I’m certain I wasn’t the only woman frantically searching the internet for What else do orcs have that are ridged? and being pleasantly surprised.

Suddenly the thought of Kardok licking took on an entirely different meaning.

My free hand rose to my throat as I swallowed, eyes glued to the screen. I’d seen the game before, of course, but it hurt each time. Not the penalty, not the loss…but the howl of pain from the penalty box as Kardok realized what was happening.

I squeezed my eyes shut, exhaled, and turned away from the television—only to startle in surprise when I realized I hadn’t been alone.

“Good morning, Lila. I didn’t realize you were a Terrors fan.”

Maddie Moskowitz’s bright teal head only came up to my chin—she was short even when I wasn’t wearing heels—and had a kind of energy that never seemed to settle.

I’d been in more than one meeting with her where she’d pulled out knitting needles and produced an entire hat “just to keep her hands busy” while listening to presentations.

I did genuinely like the Teal Terrors’ head of Public Relations, even when she snuck up on me. “Hi, Maddie.” I pushed the game from my mind and smiled at her, backing up a space to give us both more room. “I thought everyone was a Terrors fan?”

She laughed and hitched her computer bag higher on her shoulder. “True, but you know—the old figure skating versus hockey player rivalry. That’s a whole subtrope in romance, you know.”

I didn’t know what subtrope meant, but I smiled politely. “Really? I had no idea.”

“Not a romance novel reader?”

“I focus more on biographies and pop psychology.” I tried to steer us back to the topic.

“The managers of the complex always did a good job of scheduling rehearsal times in between the team’s practices, so I never had to compete for ice time or anything like that.

” I shrugged. “And Daddy is a big fan, so I think that rubbed off on me.”

There. Everything sounded very proper and correct.

No mention of eating popcorn and watching the games in my turquoise PJs, throwing kernels at the screen when the other team killed our power plays or drooling a bit when Kardok turned to the camera and did that thing with his tongue.

And nothing at all about the thick, ridged dildo I kept in my bedside drawer.

Maddie, knowing nothing of my wicked secret, was still beaming at me, bobbing her head as if she couldn’t be still. “Well, I’m glad to know you’re a fan—it’ll help today’s meeting immeasurably. You know the team has partnered with the youth league in the offseason?”

As she spoke, she turned toward Daddy’s office, her body language inviting me to walk with her.

I remembered she’d been the one to call this meeting—“To discuss funding for the youth league” as I recall—but I hadn’t thought anything of it.

Now, as we passed Amanda, Daddy’s secretary, I listened to Maddie list the league’s needs: not just inspiration, but new uniforms and new equipment.

“Fairbanks Enterprises already sponsors the league to an extent,” I told her when she paused outside of Daddy’s office. “Is it a case of needing more?” And if so, why was the Terrors’ PR director coming to us instead of the director of the youth league?

“It’s a case of needing different,” Maddie announced with a mysterious grin as she reached for the door handle and pushed it open. “Knock knock!”

Over Maddie’s shoulder, I watched Daddy’s attention jerk up from where he’d been studying his laptop screen. He rolled his eyes as he stood. “You’re supposed to knock, not say ‘knock knock’,” he scolded Maddie, stepping around his desk. “And then I say come in, and no one is startled.”

I could hear Maddie’s grin as she crossed to the chairs in front of Daddy’s desk. “I knew you were going to invite us in, so I just skipped that part. How are you doing today, Rex?”

My father rolled his eyes again, but I thought I saw a twinkle in their blue depths as he reached to embrace me. “I’m ready for lunch. This oatmeal my doctor has me eating in the morning might be healthy, but I’m unimpressed with it. Good morning, Pumpkin.”

I probably mumbled something polite in return, but I was focused on leaning into his embrace.

From the time I could remember, it was me and Daddy against the world, and the smell of his cologne always reminded me of that safety.

He’d always been big and strong and powerful enough to do anything, as far as I was concerned.

Recent years had turned his brown hair more salty than peppery, and given him enough of a cushion around his middle to make hugging him cozy, but he still had that same kind smile and an indulgent sparkle in the blue eyes I’d inherited from him.

But today, I wondered if that gleam was for Maddie rather than me. I wondered if Daddy was considering her for Wife Number Five.

If so, I couldn’t wait to see what teal-haired, knitting Maddie did to shake up the other wives at his country club. She’d be good for him, judging from their banter.

Now he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against his desk. “So what’s this about, Madison? When Amanda told me I had a meeting with just you and Lila this morning, I got worried.”