Pucking Strong: An MM Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 4)

“Here.” Henrik turns away from the coffee cart to hand me my orgasm in a cup. It’s my first proper coffee in weeks. I immediately take a sip, savoring the sweet, nutty taste.

“Fuck, that’s good.” My eyes close as I enjoy a second sip.

It’s Monday morning, and the practice center is hopping. Figure skaters fill the lobby, tying their laces and talking excitedly with friends. The little girls look so cute in their ’80s leg warmers and scoop-necked sweatshirts. Over at the bigger rink, the hockey boys are already out on the ice doing drills. The bite of a shrill whistle echoes in the rafters.

Henrik leads the way over to the Rays admin wing and flashes his badge on the access panel. We walk down the long hallway, angling for the elevators. He checks his smartwatch. He’s been doing it every four minutes since we left the apartment.

“Relax,” I say, pressing the elevator Up button. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Today is the first day Karolina is being left alone with Nurse Hanna, who is still so pretty and perfect, it’s actually a little annoying. Like, she doesn’t have to be that pretty, right? She could tone it down.

“What’s wrong?” Henrik asks, as we both step into the elevator.

“Nothing.”

I’m jealous of our nanny.

“Something’s wrong,” he mutters, sipping his coffee.

I fake rotating my shoulder. “Just a little tight. I think I slept funny.”

Another lie. They come so easily now. Henrik’s bed is like sleeping on a literal fucking cloud. I’m getting the best sleep of my life.

The elevator doors open, and we make our way down the hall to the PR office suite. A young, Chad-looking kid sits at the front desk. “Hey, can I help you?”

“Henrik Karlsson and Teddy O’Connor to see Poppy St. James,” Henrik replies.

Chad does a double take. “Whoa. You’re, like, a player.”

Snorting into my coffee, I roll my eyes. “Dude, where do you think you are right now? Of course he’s a fucking player.”

Henrik raises a brow at me. And yeah, whatever, I’m on edge. Our perfect nanny made my fake husband oatmeal this morning with freshly cut peaches and a swirl of cinnamon. He doesn’t want my eggs, but he definitely wants her oatmeal.

I mean, sure, she made me some too. And it was fucking delicious. But she served Henrik his bowl in Swedish. For all I know, she was complimenting his dick.

I take another sip of my coffee as Chad presses the intercom button on his office phone. “Hey, Poppy. Some guys are here to see you.”

The phone beeps. “Trevor, honey, what did we say about using guests’ names?”

“Uhh …” Poor fucking Trevor. He glances over the desk at us, pushing the button again. “It’s Karlsson and …”

“Teddy O’Connor,” Henrik repeats, pronouncing each syllable of my name.

Poppy appears in the doorway. “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite newlyweds!” Then she’s ushering us into her fancy corner office. “I’d ask if I can have Trevor get you anything, but I see you already stopped by the coffee cart. Please, have a seat.”

I follow Henrik’s lead and sit next to him on the couch.

Poppy takes the nearest chair, sinking onto it with a sigh, both hands bracing her pregnant belly. “How’s Karolina settling in so far?”

“Well,” Henrik replies. “Her nurse started today. I think she’ll be a good fit.”

“That’s wonderful. She’s such a sweet little girl. Grace hasn’t stopped asking when they can play together again.”

When Henrik doesn’t respond, I give him a nudge.

Catching my hint, he sits forward. “Yes, we should set that up. Your daughter is welcome to my home anytime.”

“Oh, she’ll be so glad,” she replies with smile.

And because I’m in that much of a mood, I smirk, taking another sip of my coffee. “Trevor seems nice.”

Her smile falls. “Don’t get me started.”

I snort. “Come on, spill the beans, Pop. How did you get stuck with him? Don’t tell me his last name is Talbot.”

She crosses her arms over her belly. “A nephew, or so I’m told. And I’m giving him exactly one more day to learn how phones work before I march him up to Mark’s office by his stupid, floppy surfer-boy hair.” She takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “But we’re not here to talk about my seemingly endless staffing problems. We’re here to talk about you, about your delicate situation.”

I force a laugh. “Delicate situation? Jeez, you make it sound like we’re made of glass over here.”

“The analogy isn’t far off,” she replies. “Announcing a player’s coming-out can be tricky enough. Add in a surprise adoption and a quickie marriage, and this is a recipe for chaos. If even one of our cards is out of alignment, this whole house collapses. And I’m not just talking about the two of you.”

Henrik and I exchange a glance. “What are you talking about?” I ask for both of us.

“I’m talking about the dangerous precedent you’ve set. I’m talking about the potential ramifications that could spiral outward, engulfing us all. This is so much bigger than you now. You understand that, right?”

I watch the way her hands guard her baby bump, and a bolt of shame zaps me in the chest. I set my coffee aside. “Poppy, this won’t blow back on anyone else, I swear.”

Her blue eyes are cold as ice as she glances between us. “But of course it will. Do you not realize that your actions constitute everything the close-minded jerks in this country have come to fear about people like us?”

Next to me, Henrik sets his coffee aside. “I don’t understand.”

Poppy sighs. “Gentlemen, the homophobia in this country is a river that runs deep. What do you think the fans will do if they find out your marriage is a sham? That the only reason you got married was to trick two governments into giving two men custody of a young child? Worse still, a young female child? In short, you are their worst nightmare. You are everything they’ve been told to fear.”

My stomach twists in uncomfortable knots. I’ve worked so hard to convince myself this was the right thing to do. But is Poppy right? Have I really done wrong? Have my actions put others in danger?

Ignoring my squirming, Poppy goes on. “What impact do you think that kind of negative press might have on the rest of the team? You have queer teammates, Henrik. We have children too. Families.” Her hands splay wide over her bump, protecting the baby she shares with her two partners. “Try as we might, we are not safe from their hate. Our lives are made of invisible nets of legal protections—adoptions and powers of attorney, civil unions, joint bank accounts, shared assets. But it’s not enough. It will never be enough. We are, at every moment, just one cruel law away from being torn apart. I’d call that pretty darn fragile, wouldn’t you?”

Fuck, I think I’m gonna be sick. “Poppy, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” She raises a hand. “Put in your position, I probably would have done the same thing. As I told Henrik at the airport, now we just have to focus on minimizing any potential damage.”

Henrik finally speaks. “You have a plan, yes? You know how to see us through this?”

She looks to him. “I do.”

He nods once, wholly resolved. “I’ll do anything you say. I will protect Karolina and Teddy with my life. My career means nothing to me. Not if it costs them peace or happiness.”

She smiles. “Well, I’m certainly relieved to hear you say that.” Then it’s like she flipped a switch, and all her gloom and doom is gone. “Right then, let’s do this.” She swipes a little remote off the coffee table and clicks it over her shoulder. A projector in the ceiling hums to life, flashing onto the blank white wall behind her. “Welcome to your crisis management orientation session.”

I lean back. “You made a PowerPoint?”

“I did.” She clicks the remote again and the slideshow starts. “I’m calling my PR plan ‘Operation Mighty Oak.’” The slide shows a corporate-looking logo featuring an oak tree. Jesus, she had to take her time to design this. I very much doubt it was Trevor.

Next to me, Henrik stifles a groan.

She glances over her shoulder. “Something wrong, hun?”

I can’t hide my grimace either.

“No,” Henrik mutters.

She glances between us. “Well, don’t be shy now. This is a group project. I want everyone’s input here.”

I dare to say what we’re both thinking. “It’s just … Well, I mean, does it have to sound so …”

Her brows arch. “So what, honey?”

“Gay,” Henrik finishes for me.

Oh god, he said it, not me. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Pop. But it does sound really gay. And I’m gay,” I add.

Poppy huffs. “Gracious, will you two get your heads out of the gutter? The mighty oak is not a reference to your penises. This is about your marriage. Your loving, committed—if admittedly spontaneous—marriage. Now, what are the essential parts of an oak tree?”

Henrik and I share another glance. “Seriously?” I say. “Like, you want us to just start naming the parts of a tree?” At the same time, Henrik says, “Acorns.”

Poppy beams at him. “Oooh, you’re getting a bit ahead of me there, honey. I was looking for roots.” She clicks the remote, and a new slide pops up featuring the root system of a tree. All around the roots, she’s added in little words and phrases like “friends to lovers” and “inevitable.”

“Now, all good relationships, like strong trees, require roots buried deep. In your case, we need to build the case that you have these roots. So, here’s the spin: yours is a love kindled from nearly a decade of friendship. Henrik, your niece’s unfortunate situation merely sped up the timeline you were both already on. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I nod up at the words on the screen. “We’re inevitable.”

Now I earn a smile. “Yes, exactly, Teddy.”

“Friends to lovers,” I add, still reading the screen.

“Yes. That’s the story of your roots. You met six years ago when Teddy was an intern. You didn’t pursue anything then, because you were keeping things professional. Also, Henrik, maybe add in something about Teddy being a little too young for you. Maybe a bit too immature.”

Okay, ouch.

Also, accurate.

“But you stayed in touch over the years, and the romance blossomed. Are we tracking with this story? Because you’ll both need to memorize it. And don’t deviate,” she adds, pointing a finger at us. “There’s nothing worse than having Teddy say your first kiss was on a plane when Henrik tells the press scrum it happened on the beach.”

Henrik’s eyes are wide now. “They’ll ask us about that?”

Poppy shrugs. “Probably. But when in doubt, deflect. There’s nothing wrong with saying you want to keep parts of the story private. Now, I’m taking care of things on my end to create a convincing narrative of your shared past. I want the two of you more focused on the present, which is selling the lie.”

“Which lie?” Henrik asks.

“The lie that you’re a happily married gay couple.” She clicks to the next slide, which features a very phallic-looking tree trunk. “Like our friend, the mighty oak, you two must now share one strong, united front. You are married, and you must appear so to the public—” She pauses when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Hey-o,” Novy calls out, opening the door. “Special delivery for my queen. Rush order, as requested.” He holds up a little black bag stuffed with white paper. The name of a jewelry store flashes on the side in shiny silver letters, and my heart fucking stops. I know exactly what’s in that bag.

Poppy’s eyes light up. “Oh, thank you, honey.”

“Anything for my love.” He sets the little bag down on the table.

“Your timing is literally perfect,” she coos, looking up at him like he invented attraction.

Novy bends over her chair, giving her a very PG-13 kiss that leaves her breathless. Then he’s brandishing a coffee with a flourish. “I also brought you a decaf pecan latte with extra whip.”

“Oh, you’re an angel.” She takes the coffee and another kiss.

“Oh god.” The words escape me as I swipe my own coffee off the table.

Next to me, Henrik grunts his agreement.noveldrama

Novy is still leaning over Poppy as he turns to me. “You got a problem there, bud?”

“I think it’s just seeing you being so sweet to another person. It sorta feels like watching an alligator play the clarinet.”

“It’s unsettling,” Henrik mutters.

“Right?” I jab my thumb at him. “What he said. Unsettling is a good word.”

Novy just straightens with a smirk. “Well, get used to it, assholes. So long as my girl is pregnant, she gets whatever she wants from me. She could tell me to dance naked on this table, and I’d fucking do it.”

Poppy pats his arm. “That won’t be necessary, honey.”

“What’s that?” Henrik nods to the little black bag. It’s like we both already know, and he clearly wants to get it over with. Which makes me feel fan-fucking-tastic.

“Oh—” Poppy takes a sip of her iced latte before setting it aside. “I’m so glad you asked.” Reaching for the bag, she pulls out the tissue with a flourish. “Now, we can get these resized if needed, but I hope they’ll do the trick.” She pulls out two black ring boxes. “One for you,” she sings at Henrik. “And one for you, Teddy, honey.”

I feel like a robot as I mechanically reach out my hand and take the box from her.

Henrik opens his box and pulls out a shiny gold wedding band. “Is this really necessary?”

“It’s customary for married couples to wear rings as proof of their status,” Poppy replies. “Even in Sweden—and yes, I checked. In your case, it really is a PR necessity.” Then she glances between us, smiling brightly. “Well? Try them on. Let’s see.”

With a sigh, I open my box. A shiny gold wedding band sits tucked in a bed of black velvet. At least this one doesn’t carry over a hundred years of Karlsson family history.

Henrik turns to me, ring lying flat in his palm. “Is this acceptable to you? I don’t want to break any rules …”

He’s right. We have a lot of rules in this fake marriage. There’s the “no saying husband” rule. And the “no kissing” rule. Then there’s the “I pay him rent” rule. We haven’t actually discussed the terms of that one yet. His “I sleep in his room” rule is working out great for me so far. But we don’t have a “no wedding rings” rule. Not technically. I just told him I wouldn’t wear his mother’s cursed ring.

“No, it’s fine,” I say. But then I hesitate, glancing his way. “Are you fine?”

With a nod, he slips the ring on his left hand, closing his fist around the glint of gold. He’s still wearing the cursed ring on his right pinkie.

“Well?” Poppy says with a smile.

“It fits,” Henrik replies.

She turns to me. “Teddy? Your turn, hun.”

I slip on the ring, feeling the coolness of the metal as it glides down my finger. Fuck, it’s a perfect fit.

Don’t read anything into this!

I glance up at Novy, always the prankster. “These won’t turn our fingers green, will they?”

He crosses his tatted arms. “Fuck you. Those are twenty-four-carat gold. You’re welcome.”

Henrik glances up sharply. “Send me the bill.”

“I’ll pay for mine,” I say in a quiet voice. Though I don’t know with what money.

“Out of the question.”

“Henrik—”

“I said no,” he growls. “Call it my third rule,” he adds more gently.

Right. So his rules for me in this fake marriage are that I have to sleep in his bed (even without him in it), I can’t have other men over to the apartment, and I can’t pay for my own wedding ring. It appears Henrik is something of a traditionalist.

“Well, you both look dynamite,” Novy says. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were married.”

“They are married,” says Poppy, waving to him as he leaves.

“Anything else?” Henrik asks as the door shuts.

She laughs. “Well, obviously. We only have to talk about the most important part of the whole PR plan.” She sets her coffee aside again. “Now, when you think of a tree, what’s the most important—”

“I’m sorry, but can you spare us any more of the protracted tree metaphors?” I say over her. “Please, just tell us what you want us to do.”

Henrik smirks, clutching his coffee with his newly ringed hand. I know he’s thinking the same thing as me.

Poppy presses the clicker, changing the PowerPoint slide to an image of the top of a tree. “I was going to say leaves. They’re the flashiest part of the tree. And the final prong of this PR campaign will mirror their ‘hey, look at me’ approach when it comes to the media.”

“I don’t understand,” Henrik says for both of us.

“We need the world to look at you,” she explains. “We want to shove it in their faces that you two are a happily married gay couple and that one of you just happens to play in the NHL.”

Henrik sits forward, a worried look on his face. “I thought this was about minimizing attention. It’s about keeping Teddy and Karolina away from the media, not shoving them under a spotlight.”

“Yes, but the best way to minimize attention in this case is to seek it out. We all know that the easiest way to hide something is to show the world you have nothing to hide.”

It clicks in my head. “Oh, that’s clever.”

She smiles. “I know.”

“Well, so what do you propose?” I ask.

Her smile widens. “I propose we go big. Total shock and awe. We’ll show them so many pictures and video clips of you both being happy and well-adjusted, that pretty soon they’ll just move on. There’s nothing the media finds more boring than two people living their happy, unbothered lives.”

“And then what happens?” asks Henrik.

“And then we win.”

He considers for a moment. “Okay. How do we do it?”

She clicks the remote, and a new slide appears with three columns. Bullet-pointed items are listed in each column. “Over the next few weeks, I’ve arranged a set of PR activities for you both, starting with an interview with my friend Janine over at ESPN.”

Why does that name sound so familiar? With a gasp, I sit forward. “Wait, Janine Marsh? Didn’t she do the interview with the Prices when they first came out?”

“Yep. And she owes me a favor. We’ll sit you both down for an interview. And don’t worry,” she adds, looking to Henrik. “It’ll be scripted. Janine will know what to ask.”

“And then what?” I say.

She uses a laser pointer to circle each column on the slide. “From there, you’ll go on a few public dates. We’ll have you photographed on each one. You know, nice candlelit dinner, maybe a walk on the beach holding hands. It’s gonna be so stinkin’ cute. Date one will be just the two of you. And I’m sorry, but we’ll need some PDA for that one. That’ll be your big ‘look at us, we’re gay’ moment. The second date will be a group date. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

It takes everything I have to stifle my pained groan. Not only did I marry my dream man and move into his house to awkwardly co-parent his injured niece. Now we’re both wearing shiny, matching wedding rings. Oh, and I have to confess my not-so-fake love for him on ESPN. And Poppy’s making us go on romantic fake dates together. Publicly.

This is just fucking perfect.

Henrik looks to me, waiting. Because, apparently, I’m calling all the shots now.

“Fine,” I say.

Henrik turns to Poppy and nods. “We’ll do it.”

She claps her hands together. “Excellent. And it should go without saying that Karolina will be protected in all this. I’m not the type of media director to use a child to score cheap PR points.”

“We appreciate that,” Henrik replies.

“I’m just glad to have so much enthusiastic cooperation. Pick an evening for next week when you’d like to go on your first date. Meanwhile, I’ll set up the ESPN interview with Janine. Sound good?”

Henrik nods.

I do nothing.

“Oh, and Teddy—” Poppy turns to me. “We’re gonna have you attend the opening night home game. That way we can get some shots of you with Henrik out on the ice. You know, the whole ‘cheering for your man’ angle.”

I’m on autopilot as I stand. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Just tell me where to stand and smile for the cameras.”

Henrik rises next to me, still looking at me warily.

“Don’t worry.” Poppy walks us to the door. “I have everything under control. Give me a couple weeks to work my magic, and we’ll make this all go away. Then we can all get back to hockey as usual.”

Henrik looks relieved as he shakes her hand. Meanwhile, I feel even smaller than I did on the day we got married. How is that possible?

We’ll make this all go away.

She means me. I’m what will go away. Henrik getting clear of this mess means getting clear of me. And apparently, he can’t fucking wait.