Match Penalty: Coach’s Daughter Hockey Romance (The Rookie Hawkeyes Series Book 1)

I’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for twenty minutes, but my mind keeps drifting back to the slapshot bet that my dad and JP are now willing to risk their careers for.

My phone buzzes, Brynn’s name lighting up the screen.

Brynn: We didn’t get to finish our conversation on Saturday night. What are you going to do about that bet between Seven and JP?

I read her comment, biting on my thumb nail, trying to determine how to respond. But how can I respond when I don’t even know what I’m going to do about it myself? Or if there is anything I can do about it.

Me: I’m at work. And I haven’t decided.

Brynn: Haven’t decided? You’re just going to let them duke it out on the ice?

Me: It’s not my call. I tried to talk them out of it on the ice. Neither of them would listen to me, and they both agreed to the bet.

Brynn: This is crazy. Does Penelope know about this yet?

Me: Not that I know of.

I shove the phone into my purse, ignoring the conversation entirely. I have no idea what will happen if Penelope or Everett find out about the slapshot bet, and I’m hoping they never do.

I focus my attention on the list of emails that Everett’s assistant gave me. That’s the one thing in my life I can control.noveldrama

Sure enough, the Kauffmans are as well connected as Phil Carlton assumed. The list is triple the amount of contacts that the Hawkeyes and the foundation had combined. I’m going to need a hand massage after this.

I glance back at the list in front of me when a shadow falls across my desk. I look up to find JP standing there, hair still damp from a shower after the morning skate, I assume. He’s holding a to-go coffee cup and a paper bag from Serendipity’s and wearing that infuriating half-smile that makes my stomach flip.

‘Hello, mon petit oiseau,’ he says.

‘I still don’t know what that means.’ I straighten in my chair, aiming for professional detachment. ‘What are you doing here?’

He holds up the coffee and bag. ‘Peace offering? I heard you have a big day of auction stuff to do. I thought this would help.’

‘How do you know my coffee order?’

‘I have my sources.’ He grins, setting the items on my desk. The familiar scent of Serendipity’s caramel latte and what could be a breakfast sandwich wafts toward me, making my traitorous stomach growl. ‘Plus, you look like you’re about to bite someone’s head off, and I figured it’s better safe than sorry.’

‘I’m sure you could find someone more willing to accept your thoughtful gift. Like say, Angelica?’ I start, but my stomach betrays me with another growl.

‘That would be a waste—she’d never eat this. She’s lactose intolerant, and there’s dairy in all of this.’

‘Of course she is,’ I grumble under my breath.

JP ignores my comment. ‘Besides, she’s in San Francisco working on a big case. And I got this for you, not for her. And I’m glad I did… When’s the last time you ate?’

A part of me wants to push him for answers like Brynn told me to, but I still have hundreds of emails to get to, and my boss’s office isn’t the place I want to have this conversation.

I glance at my computer clock, wincing when I realize it’s almost noon. ‘I’ve been busy.’

‘Perfect timing then,’ he says, picking up my latte and sandwich. ‘Grab your purse, you can eat on the way. Let’s go.’

I blink twice at him and then lean forward in my chair. ‘You can’t just barge into my place of employment and sweep me out of here just because you’re the talent. I have work to do, and you haven’t even told me where we’d be going.’

His crystal blue eyes glitter back at me. ‘That’s because it’s a surprise, but I promise you, you’ll like it.’

I lean back, crossing my arms. ‘I can’t. I have work to do.’

He glances down at the pages of emails I received from Everett’s assistant this morning. ‘That list of emails? It’ll be here when you get back.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m here to help you with the auction, remember? Come on, Cammy. I know a place that will help us check off a few more items on the list.’

“Does this count as our date from the bet?” I ask.

His lip curls just a little at the corner of his perfect mouth. “Is that what it will take to get you to come with me?”

The door to Penelope’s office swings open, and she emerges with her purse hanging off her elbow as her face is still buried in her phone, feverishly typing up an email.

‘Hey Cammy, Slade and I are going to lunch. I should be back in a couple of hours.’

‘Okay, have a good lunch.’ I tell her, though she hasn’t looked up yet.

Does she even know that JP is in her office trying to take off with her assistant? The door to the GM’s suite opens, and Slade walks through the door in a pair of dark jeans and a Hawkeyes t-shirt. His smile illuminates when he sees Penelope. Then his eyes flash over to JP standing in front of my desk.

‘JP. Good practice today. That knee seems to be doing better,’ he says, heading for my desk, flashing me a smile as well.

‘Yeah thanks, the new PT downstairs has been helping a lot.’

‘Good, I’m glad to hear it. Our previous PT, Keely, was great, but when Aisa retired and they moved to Texas, she made sure to train up a great replacement. Use that resource as much as you need,’ he says. ‘So, what are you doing up here?’ Slade asks, as he stops at my desk while Penelope seems to still be finishing up an email.

‘I’m helping Cammy with the auction. I have an idea I want to show her.’

Penelope’s ears must be trained to the word ‘auction’ because she perks up from her phone. ‘Oh, an idea for the auction? Well your last one was a huge success. I approve.’ She beams at JP and then at me. ‘Have fun.’

‘Are you ready to go?’ Slade asks, offering his arm for her to grab onto.

‘Yep, all set,’ she beams back and then turns to me. ‘You two have fun. I’m excited to see what you come back with.’

An ulcer most likely.

I watch helplessly as Penelope and Slade leave, noting the way Slade winks at JP before they disappear down the hall. When did they become so chummy? I guess that happens with teammates.

JP holds up my latte and sandwich. ‘Shall we?’

I take it reluctantly, knowing I’ve been outmaneuvered. ‘Fine. But this counts as our date.’

I want to say no, to push him away again, but the look in his eyes stops me. He’s trying. And for once, I don’t want to be the one holding all the walls in place.

‘Of course,’ he agrees, but his smile says otherwise. ‘That’s what we agreed to.’

The moment we get in the cab, JP gives the driver a destination. ‘Pike’s Place, please.’

It’s been years since I’ve been there. My dad took me to all the tourists’ sights when I first got here, and I loved it. But why is JP taking me there now… I have no clue.

JP chats easily with the driver the entire way over, a die-hard Hawkeyes fan who recognizes him immediately. I watch, surprised by how genuine JP is as he answers questions about the upcoming season and signs the driver’s hat.

‘My kid’s gonna flip when he sees this,’ the driver says, grinning at the signature. ‘He’s been playing goalie since he was five.’

‘What’s his name?’ JP asks.

‘Connor.’

JP pulls out his phone. ‘I’ll make a note to send home opener tickets to the box office for you.’

Seeing JP like this with fans, it reminds me of why I’ve always thought there was a deeper side to him, past the cocky smile and reputation.

“I got it,” I jump in and offer, pushing JP’s hand down with his phone in it. “When I get back to the office, I’ll have two of JP’s home tickets waiting at will-call for you for the first home game.”

JP looks at me and smiles.

The cab pulls up to the market, and JP steps out first, turning to offer me his hand. I hesitate for a split second before taking it, trying to ignore the spark that shoots through me at his touch.

‘Ready?’ he asks, his voice soft.

I nod as he helps me out of the cab.

The market bustles around us, filled with the familiar sounds and smells that always make me feel at home. Vendors call out their wares, fish fly through the air at the famous fish market, and tourists snap photos of everything in sight.

‘This way,’ JP says, his hand finding the small of my back as he guides me through the crowd. The touch is light, barely there, but it burns through my jacket.

We stop at a small booth tucked away from the main thoroughfare. An older man sits surrounded by intricately carved wooden figures with gorgeous detailing—everything from tiny animals to larger pieces that seem like they belong in an art gallery.

‘Hey, Pete,’ JP calls out.

The man looks up, and then I realize exactly who it is. It’s Pete, the head of maintenance and the Zamboni driver.

‘JP! Didn’t expect to see you today.’ Pete shifts his vision to see me. We’ve met several times whenever he has a meeting with Penelope. ‘Cammy, what a pleasant surprise. You’re both here together?” he asks. “Is something wrong at the stadium?”

JP waves off Pete’s concern. ‘No, no, nothing like that. Actually, Pete, we’re here about the charity auction. We’re looking for vendors who would be willing to donate something for the auction. Would you be interested in donating a piece?’

Pete’s eyes sparkle. ‘For the Kids with Cancer Foundation? Absolutely, it’s a great cause—I’d do anything to help Briggs and Autumn and all of those families,” he says, then thinks for a second. “I’ve got something special in mind. Been working on a design—a phoenix rising. Seems fitting, don’t you think?’

As they discuss details, I catch JP watching me from the corner of his eye as I find a small bird carving, an intricately hand painted, little finch with warm colored cheeks.

It fits so perfectly in my hands, and the warmth of the wood heating in my hands brings the bird practically to life.

“Thanks for your time, Pete. We’re going to walk around for a bit, and I need to get Cammy some lunch. But if you don’t mind bringing the item up to Penelope’s office when you have it ready, that would be great.”

We say our goodbyes and start to casually walk around, both pointing out different vendors or things we notice that neither of us have seen before.

‘Hungry?’ JP asks.

‘Starving,’ I admit. The latte and sandwich were a good start on the way over, but now I need lunch.

He grins. ‘Good thing I know just the place. But first—’ He stops at a popcorn vendor and asks what flavor I want. I pick BBQ, while he picks dill pickle, ordering a bag for each of us.

I scratch my nose. “Dill pickle?

“You’re going to wish you ordered it,” he warns.

‘I don’t think so,’ I say quickly.

His laugh is rich and warm. The vendor hands JP the bags, and he passes me the BBQ, still hot and perfectly salted.

We walk through the market, and I find myself relaxing despite my best intentions. JP points out his favorite spots, tells stories about the vendors he’s met, and somehow makes me laugh more than I have in weeks.

I reach over and steal a piece of his popcorn.

‘Thought you didn’t want to try mine,’ he teases, but tilts the bag toward me so I’ll take more.

‘Yours is better,’ I say, grabbing another handful, ignoring the fact that he was right.

‘Tu es impossible,’ he murmurs, smiling fondly.

‘What does that mean?’

‘That you’re impossible,’ he translates. ‘But in a good way.’

I roll my eyes, but I’m fighting back a smile. ‘So, is this your thing? Do you have a feeder kink that I should know about?’

JP’s laugh rumbles through him, warm and unrestrained, before he shakes his head, still grinning. “A feeder kink?”

As if a jock who’s spent his entire life in a locker room doesn’t know what a feeder kink is, he just wants to hear me explain it.

I lift a shoulder, feigning innocence. “Yeah. You know… do you become aroused by feeding your dates?”

He lifts an eyebrow at me like I’ve lost my mind, but the slow spread of his grin says he’s intrigued.

I sigh, giving in. “First, the Chinese takeout at Cooper’s, then food at my apartment last week, then Serendipity’s this morning… and now this?” I gesture toward the popcorn between us. “You’re feeding me.”

His smirk turns wicked, his voice dropping low. “No, I don’t have a feeder kink, but I’ll admit that I enjoy feeding you. You’re nicer to me when you’re not hangry,” He leans in slightly, eyes locked on mine, amusement flickering beneath something darker. Deeper. “Besides, this is a date, Cammy. I said dinner, which implies food.” His fingers graze mine as he takes a piece of popcorn and pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly, deliberately. “But if you must know…” His gaze dips, trailing over me in a way that sends heat straight to my core.

“Anything that has to do with you is a turn-on.”

The words hit me like a physical force, and I have to avert my gaze. Because for a moment, I almost believe him.

He looks over at me as we walk. ‘Am I going to get in trouble for saying that?’

I think about it for a second, feeling the warmth in my cheeks. ‘No, you’re not in trouble. Not yet, anyway,’ I say.

‘Come on,’ he says, sensing my withdrawal. ‘There’s a pizza place around the corner. All-you-can-eat lunch buffet. Aleksi found it, and now the guys are here every afternoon.’

‘How will they stay in business when the entire Hawkeyes team finds it?’

‘Too late. Aleksi heard about this place from Talon Brecka, the wide receiver for the Seattle football team.’

The pizza place is exactly the kind of hole-in-the-wall spot I love—warm, crowded, and smelling like heaven. As JP holds the door open for me, I hear familiar voices.

‘Monty!’ Aleksi calls out from a corner booth. He’s sitting with Hunter, Luka, and Wolf, all of them surrounded by empty plates. ‘And little Wrenley! Come join us.’

JP glances at me, letting me make the call. I hesitate for a moment, but having the guys here might make this easier. A buffer between me and whatever this thing is with JP.

‘Sure,’ I say, heading toward their table.

‘What are you two out doing today?’ Hunter says as we slide into the booth.

“We went to Pike’s Place to ask Pete for a silent auction item for the foundation… and since we have you here…” he starts.

“What? You need signed gear or something?”

I pull out my phone, opening my notes. ‘Actually, we could use some player participation. The silent auction is coming together, but we need some live auction items.’

‘Like what?’ Wolf asks in the next booth with a mouthful of pizza.

‘Date with a player?’ JP suggests. ‘Hockey lessons?’

Hunter perks up. ‘I’m in for the date thing. Could be fun.’

‘Same,’ Luka says, then grins. ‘Though, I’ll probably bring in more than Reed.’

‘You wish,’ Hunter scoffs.

Just like that, we’re planning. The guys start one-upping each other, promising bigger and better auction items. By the time they leave, we’ve secured dates, lessons, and even a Christmas light hanging service from Wolf, who apparently has experience as a holiday decorator.

‘That was… surprisingly productive,’ I say once we’re alone, finding our own booth.

JP stands, offering his hand. ‘Come on, let’s get some food before you pass out.’

At the counter, he hands me a plate. ‘So,’ he says as we wait in line. ‘How’d you end up working for the Hawkeyes?’

I tense slightly. ‘You mean, how’d I end up working for my dad’s team?’

‘I mean, did you ever think about doing something else? Or was hockey always the plan?’

Something in his tone makes me look up. He’s watching me with genuine interest, no judgment.

‘I’ve always loved sports. My volleyball team took state my senior year and I planned on going to college in Minnesota for Sports Management. Then I found out about Seven, and everything just… clicked. It finally made sense why I was more athletic than anyone else in my family. Why I never quite fit into my mom’s world, or why Eli and I never really had anything in common. Suddenly, it all just lined up.’

“So then you gave up on going to a college close to home and came here?” he asks, piecing together the rest of my story.

“My mom fought me on it–wanted to keep me close. I think she wanted to control my relationship with Seven. But then he offered to pay for my tuition to any college I wanted and Penelope offered me an internship under her in Seattle. It all fell into place.”

JP’s mouth quirks up, but there’s something guarded in his expression. ‘Your mom sounds like she and my dad would get along.’

‘Yeah? The great Jon Paul Dumont Senior isn’t father of the year?’

His laugh is hollow. ‘Let’s just say being the son of a hockey legend comes with expectations. Especially when you’re named after him.’

‘Is that why you go by JP?’

‘Partly,’ he admits. ‘But mostly because Jon Paul Dumont Jr. is a mouthful, and I wanted something that was just… mine.’

We find a quiet table in the corner, our pizza steaming between us. The conversation flows easier now, stories of growing up in the shadow of famous parents, of finding our own way.

‘Sometimes I wonder,’ I say, wiping sauce from my lip, ‘if we can ever really escape our parents’ legacy.’

JP reaches across the table, his thumb catching a spot of sauce I missed. ‘Maybe we’re not supposed to escape it. Maybe we’re supposed to redefine it.’

His touch lingers, and suddenly I’m very aware of how close we are. Of how easy it would be to lean forward, to close the distance…

A burst of laughter from nearby breaks the moment. JP pulls back, and I clear my throat.

‘I should probably get back to the office,’ I say, even though we both know Penelope gave me the afternoon off.

‘Let me walk you,’ he offers. ‘It’s on my way.’

The walk is quiet, comfortable in a way that scares me. The Seattle afternoon has turned grey, a light drizzle falling around us. JP pulls me closer under his umbrella, and I let him.

At the door, JP turns to face me, his expression serious.

‘Thank you for today,’ he says.

‘For what?’

‘For giving me a chance to show you who I am now.’

I swallow hard. ‘Jon Paul…’

‘I know,’ he says quickly. ‘I know I hurt you before. But Cammy…’ He steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. ‘If I could tell you why I left that night—why I had to leave—I would. But it’s not just my secret to share.’ His thumb brushes my cheek, and the vulnerability in his eyes steals my breath. ‘All I can ask is that you give me a chance to make it right.’

I should step back. I should go inside. I should do anything but stand here, letting him touch me like this.

I don’t move.

“The bet with my dad. It’s insane. Why did you agree to it?”

He stares back at me for a moment. “Because I’m here for redemption, Cammy. From him, from you, from the Hawkeyes.”

I never thought about it like this. That JP feels he’s here to prove himself.

‘Bonne nuit, ma belle,’ he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before stepping back.

I watch him walk away, my skin tingling where his lips touched. This day carries the weight of possibility.

And I realize something terrifying.

I’m starting to believe him.