Pucking Sweet: An MMF Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 3)

Six Years Later

“Mommy! Mom, watch! Are you watching?”

“I’m watching, sweets,” I call out. Sitting in the shade of a large beach umbrella, I mime raising a hand over my eyes, and watch as Bennett floats on his colorful boogie board, waiting for the surf to swell and sweep him back in for the hundredth time.

At six years old, my sweet boy is already so tall and lanky. And he lives for the beach. Any minute not spent in the water is a minute wasted. All he wanted for his birthday were surfing lessons. I blame us still living in Florida, but I think my guys are slowly resigning themselves to a future of early morning surf meets instead of hockey practice.

The wave sweeps in, and Bennett is ready, rising up off his knees to try to stand. He’s wobbly, but he gets there, his arms windmilling to keep his balance as he rides the board right onto the sand and hops off.

“Good job, Benny!” I shout, clapping my hands.

He stands in the sand like a superhero, his chest puffed out in his blue life vest. Hands on his hips, he flashes me his daddy’s confident smile. My heart hums as I see a glimpse of a young Colton in his eyes. The board taps his ankles as the surf tugs it back out. He gets himself untangled from the cord and hurries back out to join the others.

Colton helps him back on his board, while Lukas keeps a close eye on Emma and Grace. At four years old, Grace isn’t as daring as her brother. She prefers playing in the sand under the shade of the umbrella. Even now, she won’t leave Lukas’s side. He holds her, dunking her in the water, and helping her chase the others around, splashing them with her feet.

Emma is five years old and has a more adventurous spirit; not surprising seeing as she’s Tess Langley’s clone. She’s riding her own board, cruising in on her tummy. She laughs as Lukas and Grace chase her, slipping off the side of the board like a little seal to paddle in her puffy life vest over to Colton.

This is our last full day of family vacation in Aruba. It’s become our end-of-summer tradition. We’ve been coming for a week every year since Bennett was an infant. It’s one perfect week to completely unplug and just enjoy the surf and sun.

Sometimes, guys from the team join us with their families. The O’Sullivans and the Gerards came last year. This year, we’ve got Tess and Ryan in the bungalow next to us. It works out well because we all take turns watching the kiddos, giving the adults a break. I think Tess and Ryan are over at the main resort right now getting a couple’s massage.

Or, you know, back at their bungalow…doing the other thing.

Actually, knowing them, it’s definitely the other thing.

But I’m not gonna judge because they’re taking our kiddos tonight so my guys and I can enjoy a little candlelit dinner. I fully intend for the three of us to also do the other thing.

The sun is starting to dip lower, the blue of the sky slowly turning a hazy yellow-orange. I check the time. “Honeys, we should probably get going,” I call out.

Lukas nods that he heard me as Colton plops a squealing Emma back onto her boogie board for one last ride. Lukas strides out of the surf, setting Grace safely in the sand. She hurries over to me, her cheeks bright pink from the sun.

“Did you have fun?” I coo, helping her out of her life vest.

“Yeah!” She digs with sandy fingers in the beach bag for a snack. “Mommy, I’m hungry.”

I reach over her and take out a banana, peeling it for her.

If Emma is Tess’s clone, Christina Grace is mine. Her blonde hair is a tangled mess from the salt water. It’ll take me forever to detangle it. She’s got my pointed chin and my sassy attitude too. But then she looks up, cheeks full of banana, flashing me those hazel eyes. I like to think they’re a mix of my baby blues and Lukas’s salted caramel.

“Benno, let’s go,” Lukas shouts, striding after him as Bennett’s wave drifts him a little too far to the left.

Colton walks out of the water with Emma in his arms, her board dragging in the surf behind him. “Water feels great,” he calls out to me. “Sure you don’t wanna do a quick swim?”

I lounge back in the shade of my umbrella, my hands folded over my growing baby bump. “I’m fine right where I am, thank you very much.”

“You are fine,” he teases, plopping Emma on the beach blanket next to Grace. “Look at you, my sandy-toed sun queen.”

I smile up at him, rubbing my hands over my bump. He watches the motion with a possessive glint in his eye. I purse my lips. Yeah, I know my man. He loves the sight of me pregnant. He better soak it in while he can because this is the last baby I plan on having.

Baby number three was a bit of an oops. We certainly weren’t trying. I’m pleased, but I’m anxious too. After Grace, it’s been harder for me to get back into the routine of work. Lukas is still as busy as ever playing for the Rays. Now, he’s an alternate captain under Jake Price. And Colton is about to start his fourth year as part of the Rays media team providing live commentary. He has a ton of fun, and it keeps him close to the action, but it means he’s traveling just as much as Lukas.

I won’t deny that it wears on me. These grueling hockey schedules wear on everyone, family or no family. This week in Aruba is my last taste of normal. During the summer months, I have both my men with me to help with snacks and nap times and stocking the fridge. All three of us sleep in the same bed at night.

Starting next week, we’ll be juggling five different schedules again. Adding a sixth is really feeling like a lot. So, you better believe I’m gonna sit here like a shell on the beach and soak up the privilege of having both my men here to chase our kids in the surf.

Two hours later, the babies are nestled safely in the Langley bungalow for the night, and my guys and I are enjoying a private dinner catered on our candlelit porch. There’s fresh fruit salad, grilled red snapper with creole sauce, rice and beans, and an Aruban favorite called pastechis. They’re like empanadas, made with a cornmeal crust, and stuffed with a variety of fillings. The kids love them too. We usually order a few around lunchtime to snack on at the beach.

The moon is out tonight, nearly full. It glows silvery white, sitting low on the horizon. The sounds of the ocean echo from yards away across the sand. From somewhere down the beach, a live band plays upbeat Caribbean dance music. The notes of drums and trumpets float toward us on a sea breeze. It’s enchanting. My little slice of heaven.

The guys talk quietly about the preseason schedule, while I finish the last of the fruit salad. We’ve nicknamed this baby Kiwi because it’s all I seem to be craving right now. As they chat, our chef lays out the dessert course. There’s a sampling of cheeses with dried fruit and nuts, a few pieces of cocada (an Aruban grated coconut candy we all love), and a generous slice of Dutch chocolate cake, decorated with edible flowers.

I smile as I look down at the cake. There are no rings hiding in it. I already have those on my finger. Three years ago, I found Cynthia’s engagement ring tucked away in Colton’s sock drawer. Feeling a little daring, I slipped it on my right ring finger, and waited to see how long it would take for him to notice.

It took approximately 2.5 seconds.

Let’s just say he was very pleased with its placement, and demanded that I never take it off.

But then Lukas took one look at the ring, turned around, and walked out of the house. He returned three hours later, flashing me a black ring box with a cheeky wink. Then he “hid” it in his sock drawer. I made him sweat it out for a week before I “found” it. I had the rings soldered together, and now they never leave my finger.

They aren’t wedding rings because this isn’t a marriage. At least, it’s not the kind of marriage I was ever led to believe I deserved. It’ll never be formalized on paper, but Colton, Lukas, and I share such a beautiful life. Our days are full of so much laughter and joy. Sure, we still fight and scream and drive each other crazy some days, but life with these two is beyond anything I could have ever dreamed.

“What are you thinking about over there, all quiet?” Lukas asks, refilling my water glass.

“You,” I reply honestly. Turning to Colton, I add, “And you.”

Colton smiles. “What about us?”

I turn back to Lukas. “You predicted all this. Do you remember? In my office?”

“You mean the coffin?” he says with a grin. “I wouldn’t say I predicted exactly this.”

Colton takes my hand. Turning it over on the table, he brushes his fingers in circles on my palm.

“You predicted that Colton and I would get together,” I go on. “You predicted love and babies and chocolate cake in Aruba.”

Lukas’s grin softens into a proper smile. “I did.”

“You just never predicted we’d drag you along for the ride,” Colton teases, his fingers gently twisting the rings on my finger.

Lukas raises a curious brow. “Would we call it dragged?” He reaches out too, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. Then he lets his finger trail down to my shoulder and along my collarbone. “If my memory serves, I believe I crawled to you.”

His touch and his words send a shiver through me. I smile, glancing over my shoulder through the glass wall into the beach house. Our chef is still in the kitchen, washing dishes.

Reading my mind, Colton stands from the table. “Why don’t I go hurry her along?”

I turn to Lukas, taking in the soft glow of the candlelight on his face. I smile at the lump on the bridge of his nose. The scar from the skate blade is now a thin white line trailing from his chin, along his jaw, disappearing over his ear. He’s had more injuries over the years. Three broken fingers, a groin pull, a hairline fracture in his foot. Yet still he plays. Hockey remains his only love outside his family.

He holds out a hand to me. I rise from my chair, and he pushes back from the table, setting me down on his knee. I place my hands on his shoulders as his arm snakes around my waist. His gaze heats as he brushes the knuckles of his other hand down my breastbone. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’ll have no choice but to strip you out of this dress, bend you over the table, and pound my dick into your sweet little cunt.”

I smile. This man doesn’t do subtle. He never has.

And I live for it.

Taking a page from his book, I weave my fingers into his hair and tug, forcing him to look at me. “I think we should get in the shower.”

He raises a brow, his hands now eagerly exploring, winding me up with gentle touches. “Oh, yeah?” He drops his head, kissing along my shoulder and up my neck to that spot that makes me melt. “Am I a dirty boy, Popsicle? You wanna clean me up?”

“No,” I reply, holding him to me as he kisses lower, moving the little triangle of fabric aside to suck on my nipple. I hum, fighting the urge to squirm. I feel each flick of his tongue like a pinch to the clit.

“No?” he teases. “You don’t wanna scrub me down?”

I pull on his hair, making him look at me again. “No. I want to make you filthy.”

He grins. Lowering his face again, he flicks my nipple until I gasp. “That’s my fucking girl. Keep going. Tell me what you want. What have you been dreaming about? Don’t think we didn’t notice you squirming in your chair all through dinner.”

At that moment, Colton returns, his hand smoothing over my hair as he leans down and kisses my cheek. “What did I miss?”

“Poppy was just about to tell us all the ways she wants to get fucked tonight,” Lukas replies.

“Excellent.” Colton steals my chair, pulling it forward. I squirm on Lukas’s knee, pinned between them as they peel the little straps of my black sundress down, exposing my breasts to the ocean air. They’ve grown two cup sizes thanks to the babies. My guys each take one, sucking and teasing until I’m crying out, my pussy fluttering in desperation.

“Oh my—stop,” I whine.

Lukas pulls away, searching my face. “You want us to stop?”

“No—I meant don’t stop,” I pant, already feeling bubbly. “God help me, never stop.” I kiss him, cupping his face with my hand. Our tongues tease as Colton kisses along my shoulder. When I break for air, Colton has his hand around Lukas’s neck, pulling him closer. Even after six years of sharing a life, their kisses are still playful and seeking.

Lukas breaks first, turning back to me. “Now, Poppy. What was this about a shower?”

I smile, glancing between them. “Well, you know the shower has that handy little bench—oh, also, I think we should remodel our shower to add one—”

“I’ll text Janice the moment we get home,” Lukas assure me, kissing my jaw. “But you were saying?”

I brush my hands down their chests, glancing between them. I settle my gaze on Lukas. “I was just imagining how fun it would be to ride Colton’s cock on that bench while we both suck your dick.”

Before he can respond, I slip off his lap and step back toward the wall of glass, holding up my dress so I don’t trip. They both groan, rising to their feet, their hungry gazes locked on me. The straps of my dress are already off my shoulders. The silky black fabric pools around my waist. I let the whole thing drop, leaving me standing naked under the Aruban moon.

Colton’s dark eyes take in all my curves. “Fuck.”

“Agreed,” says Lukas.

Smiling, I cup my breasts, tweaking my nipples. I take a step back, loving how they mirror me with an eager step forward. “Do you know how good it feels, knowing I’m claimed by you? Knowing no other man will ever have me?”

“You’re goddamn right no man can have you,” Lukas growls, stepping closer. “You’re ours, Poppy. You ride our dicks, and wear our cum, and grow our goddamn babies.”

I crow with happiness, feeling like a queen as I let my fingers trail down my body, over my growing baby bump. Dropping my hand low, I tease my clit. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. You belong to me.” I tease my fingers inside myself, loving the feel of their eyes on me. Need burns between us. “Say it,” I plead, already dancing on that edge. “Tell me who I am.”

“The woman of my dreams,” says Colton, tugging off his shirt and tossing it aside.

“Mother of my children,” Lukas adds, doing the same.

I take another step back.

“Love of my fucking life,” says Colton, his pants dropping to the deck.

“Queen of our goddamn universe.”

Lifting my fingers to my lips, I suck them into my mouth, tasting my own desire. God help me, I pray I never stop craving these men. Turning on my heel, I lead the way into our little beach house. Lukas and Colton follow.

I smile.

They’ll follow me anywhere.

The sun peeks in through the windows of our bungalow, making it glow. I stretch out naked on the bed like a happy house cat. Colton is on his side facing me, his brow furrowed in sleep. Lukas is star-fished on his back, his lips parted in a silent snore.

I slip the sheet off and scoot down the end of the bed, wrapping myself in a fluffy white bathrobe. Padding into the kitchen on bare feet, I pluck a kiwi from the fruit bowl and peel it. I’m slicing a banana when a bleary-eyed Colton comes wandering out of the bedroom, my phone in his hand. “Your phone keeps ringing.”

I pop one of the banana slices in my mouth. “So? We’re still in Aruba for, like, three more hours. No real life until we touch down in Jacksonville, remember?”

He crosses the living room. “I think it’s serious, babe. It’s Henrik.”

I go still, another slice of banana halfway to my lips. “Karlsson?”

He flashes my phone screen at me, and the name is right there, including a roster picture of the handsome Swedish forward. I didn’t even know I had his number saved. Six years with this team, and I’ve never had an occasion to communicate with him directly. He’s certainly never gone out of his way to call me three times in a row.

Curious, I take the phone and answer the call. “This is Poppy St. James.”

“Hello, Poppy.” I recognize his voice instantly, his accented English smooth and proper. “This is Henrik Karlsson calling from Sweden.”

I set my paring knife down. “Hey, Henrik. This is sure a surprise. What can I do for you?”

“I need your help. It’s rather urgent.”

I place one hand flat on the counter as my PR brain instantly starts spinning out worst-case scenarios. I knew he was going to Sweden to deal with a family emergency. I believe it had something to do with a sudden death. It all happened right before we left for Aruba, so I’m a little out of the loop. “Hen, honey, what happened?”

He groans into the phone. I can picture him dragging a hand through that stylish, sandy blond hair. “I may have done something rather reckless last night.”

Colton looks at me wide-eyed, and I just shake my head, my anxiety blooming like a weed. “How reckless are we talking?”

He got into a bar fight. He murdered someone. He stole a kidney. My brain spins out crazy ideas until I finally hear him say, “I got married.”

Okay, well this just doesn’t compute at all. In the six years I’ve known Henrik, I don’t think he’s ever been in a relationship. The man lives and breathes hockey. No scandals. No drama. No clingy bunnies. “Did I know you were even seeing anyone?” I ask. But then I’m gasping. “Oh god—don’t tell me you married, like, Swedish royalty or something! Henrik Karlsson, did you marry a freaking princess?”

He lets off a soft chuckle. “No, I married Teddy.”

My brow furrows in confusion. I’m pretty sure I only know one Teddy. He was a physical therapy intern for us several years ago. Lukas raved about his massages so much that Colton got a teensy bit jealous. Of course, once Lukas knew Teddy was a trigger, he just couldn’t help but taunt him. I got to watch it blow up in a shouting match that ended with Lukas under Colton, moaning his name. Honestly, it was a pretty memorable night.

Last I heard, Teddy is now a full doctor of physical therapy. I think he’s coming back to the team to fill in while Rachel Price takes maternity leave. But Henrik can’t mean that Teddy, right?

I shuffle the phone to my ear as I walk around to the other side of the kitchen island, pulling out a stool. “You wanna say that name again, sweets? I’m not sure I heard you right.”

He sighs. “Poppy, last night I married Teddy O’Connor.”

Yep, it’s that Teddy.

“But this doesn’t make any sense. Aren’t you in Sweden for a family emergency?”

“Yes. He came with me.”

“I am so confused right now,” I admit, sinking down onto the stool as Colton brings me my bowl of fruit.

“And we’ll fill you in, I promise,” Henrik assures me. “For now, we need your help.”

“Sure, honey. What help do you need? Want me to write up a formal press announcement?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “No, I want you to help me defraud the Swedish and American governments.”

I nearly drop the bowl of fruit as Colton hands it to me.

Defraud the—oh, I do not get paid enough for this!

Setting the fruit aside, I slide my laptop over and flip it open. Switching the phone to speaker, I set it on the bar. “Okay, Henrik. Why don’t you just start at the beginning?”