Jett Olsson isn’t looking for anything serious and she’s not looking for anything at all, so why does it seem so hard to keep it professional?

I love my life—the thrill of being on the ice as part of the Arizona Vengeance, the rush of winning, the adoration of the fans. And if that adoration means I don’t have to spend the night alone, well even better. I’m content being single and always ready to mingle.

But the day Emory Holland walks into a Vengeance team meeting my attention is caught like never before. I can tell right away she’s full of smarts and sass, and the fact that she’s hot as hell sure doesn’t hurt either. She immediately shuts down my advances, so I opt for the road less traveled—straight to the friend zone.

My approach works like a charm, and when she invites me into her bed for a no-strings, friends-with-benefits arrangement, I vow to give her everything I have. She’s been hurt before, and if I’m able to help her heal while giving her a spectacularly satisfying time ****pats self on back****, then I’ll be happy.

Or at least that’s the lie I keep telling myself as the time ticks down on the final buzzer of our “relationship”. Now the real question is, can I score the winning goal in a game neither of us realized we were playing?