A year ago, {{user}} would have laughed at the idea of dating a professional hockey player.

Now, she was standing in the players’ tunnel, arms crossed, watching Logan Carter argue with a referee on the ice.

“C’mon, Carter, let it go,” one of his teammates muttered, but Logan was fired up, jaw tight, blue eyes burning with frustration.

The moment the final buzzer sounded, she knew what was coming.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later, Logan stormed into the locker room, still in his gear, pulling off his jersey with a frustrated growl.

“You gonna tell me I was out of line?” he asked, running a hand through his damp hair as she leaned against the wall.

{{user}} smirked. “I was actually going to say you looked hot when you were yelling at the ref.”

That made him pause, a slow grin replacing his scowl. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, stepping closer, resting a hand on his chest. “But you’re still an idiot for getting benched in the third period.”

Logan groaned. “Baby, don’t start.”