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

The smell of sweat clings to the cold air as I walk through the players’ tunnel, the sound of guys chirping at each other echoing off the cement walls. For most of them, this is just another day at practice. For me, every moment feels like I’m one mistake away from losing everything I’ve fought to rebuild. The mistake I made out there was unacceptable and could have been prevented if I would have had my eyes where they should have been.

That mistake didn’t go unseen. An entire hockey team and several coaches saw me miss a puck headed straight for me. Then they all saw Coach Wrenley trade me out for Olsen, who’s still on the long term injury list for another six weeks, at least. Humiliation doesn’t begin to describe it. I have to do better if I ever want to earn a spot out of PTO.

‘Dumont. A word.’

Seven’s voice slices through the noise, stopping me cold. I figured this was coming.

I turn, and he’s standing at the edge of the tunnel, arms crossed, his presence as commanding as it was when I was a kid watching his highlight reels.

‘Sure, Coach.’

I follow him a few paces into the hallway, the locker room door swinging shut behind us. The tunnel feels colder somehow, the fluorescent lights of the stadium beating down on the hard features of his face. He’s not happy—that’s easy enough to see from the deep scowl, and sharp lifted eyebrow.

‘You’ve got talent, Dumont,’ he starts, his voice calm but cutting. ‘Maybe more than your old man ever did. But distractions? They’ll end your career faster than any injury.’

I swallow hard, knowing exactly what he’s getting at. This isn’t about just any distraction. This distraction has a name, a killer smile, and happens to share half his DNA.

‘And staring into the stands during practice?’ His tone sharpens. ‘That’s a distraction you can’t afford.’

Cammy. Her name hovers on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say it. Innocent unless proven guilty.

Seven steps closer, his voice lowering. ‘I know what you were looking at. And let me make one thing crystal clear: Cammy deserves better than a player who’s looking for something to play with and then toss out with the trash on one of his nights off. Cammy’s no puck bunny, Dumont, and I’ll never let anyone treat her like one.’

His assumptions about what I want from Cammy couldn’t be further off base.

‘Coach, about Cammy—’

He cuts me off with a raised hand, his expression hardening. ‘Stop. Whatever you think you’re about to say, don’t. If you want a future here, keep your eyes on the puck and off my daughter.’

His footsteps echo as he walks away, leaving me standing there, his words settling like ice in my veins.

The locker room hits me with a wall of noise as I push through the door—guys laughing, gear being tossed, the sharp snap of towels and the underlying tension of a team finding its rhythm.

‘Dumont!’ Luka Popovich calls out, his Russian accent thick with amusement. ‘That was some save out there. Oh wait, no it wasn’t—guess you were too busy taking in the sights, eh?’

‘Rafters needed inspecting,’ I shoot back, forcing a grin, heading to my stall. ‘Just making sure this place isn’t falling apart around us.’

‘Maybe check the boards next time,’ Luka quips, earning chuckles from the guys around him. ‘They’re closer to eye level.’

‘Or the back of the net,’ Hunter adds, tossing me a towel. ‘You know… where the puck ended up?’

Luka grabs the puck sitting next to him and lobs it my way. I catch it in one hand. ‘Oh look, you left this in the net. Want me to autograph it for you?’ he asks, with a smirk.

I roll my eyes but laugh anyway, the tension in my chest easing slightly. The chirping is relentless, sure, but I’d take a little smack talk in the locker room over Coach Wrenley warning me off of his daughter, any day. And after a year and a half off the ice, not knowing if a team would take a chance on me again after the DUI charge, I’m just happy to be back in the locker room.

‘Yeah, sure,’ I shoot back. ‘With your chicken scratch, I might be able to convince some sucker online to buy it. Maybe I’ll get enough to buy a hot dog at the street vendor out front.’

‘Jesus Christ, Dumont,’ Scottie Easton, one of our left wingers, says as he strolls back from the showers, a towel slung low around his waist. ‘Don’t let Popeye sign that biscuit. He’ll devalue it down to nothing more than a glorified paperweight.’

Laughter ripples through the locker room. Luka says something in Russian, his tone sharp but amused, though none of us understand a word. He smirks anyway, which only makes it funnier.

As a three-time hockey Olympian for Russia, Luka’s got the résumé to back up his swagger—two bronze and a gold medal all before he turned twenty-five. This is his first season in the NHL, after coming back from retirement, and while it’s fun to flick him shit, we all know that a signature from Popovich would fetch more than just a hot dog.

Slade Matthews, our captain, appears at my stall. His presence commands attention without him even trying. ‘Cheer up, Dumont. It’s just practice. You’re allowed to screw up once in a while,’ he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘Just don’t make a habit of it during games. And keep your eyes off my girl,’ he grins. “She’s up there, too, and I don’t need her thinking she can trade me in for someone younger. I’m well aware I married up,’ he says, elbowing my bicep lightly.

‘Thanks for the pep talk, Captain,’ I reply, earning a few more chuckles.

But Slade isn’t done. He leans closer, his voice dropping. ‘By the way, you’re telegraphing your moves. And I don’t mean on the ice.’

I glance at him, brow raised. ‘That obvious, huh?’

He grins, but there’s wisdom in his eyes. ‘Only to someone who’s been there already—GM’s daughter,’ he says, reminding me that he used to play college hockey for Penelope’s dad back in the day. ‘Get your head straight first. The rest will follow.’

Before I can respond, Coach Haynes steps into the room. The chatter dies instantly, like someone hit mute.

‘Good work today,’ he says, his tone even but commanding. ‘Keep it up, and we’ll hit the ground running come season opener.’ He pauses, scanning the room. ‘One more thing—the charity auction’s coming up. Kauffman’s expecting full participation from the team. Don’t make me chase you down for donations.’

A collective groan rises from the guys, but it’s good-natured. Coach Haynes nods once and leaves, half the team grabs their gear bags and head out while the other half heads for the gym.

I change quickly, an idea forming. If I can’t prove myself to Seven on the ice today, maybe I can show him another way. Show him I’m not the same guy who screwed up two years ago.

The hallway outside is quieter now, most guys having cleared out. I spot Penelope Matthews walking toward her office, her heels clicking against the floor, tablet in hand.

‘Penelope,’ I call out, jogging to catch up. ‘Got a minute?’

She turns, her sharp eyes assessing me instantly. ‘JP. What can I do for you?’

I take a breath, steadying myself. ‘The charity auction—I want to help.’

Her eyebrow arches. ‘I love the enthusiasm but didn’t we already discuss this and decide it would be better for you to focus on the ice?’

‘Yes, but I can do both. And it’s for a good cause.’

Penelope studies me for a long moment, then a small smile tugs at her lips. ‘This wouldn’t have anything to do with what I saw at practice today, would it?’

I suck in my lower lip. It figures she didn’t miss that. ‘I screwed up before. With Cammy. I want to make it right. And this isn’t all about her. The Hawkeyes are giving me a shot. The least I can do is pitch in where I can. Prove to Coach Wrenley—’

‘Ah… now I see,’ she says with a soft smile. ‘The coach’s daughter is a tough one, Slade can tell you all about it. He gave up the NHL and spent four years on the Hawkeyes farm team to gain back my father’s good opinion of him. Are you sure you want to go down this road? There’s no guarantee.’

‘I just need a shot—one shot at the second chance.’

She studies me for another moment, then nods. ‘Okay. But JP?’ Her voice hardens, reminding me that before she was GM, she was a player’s wife who knows exactly how this world works. ‘Don’t make me regret this. Cammy’s not just my employee—she’s family.’

‘I understand.’

‘Do you? Because if you hurt her again, you’ll have more than just Seven to deal with. I know I’m not technically supposed to have a favorite on the ice, but no one said anything about the administrative staff. I’d really hate to have to kick you off this team for causing her any more pain.’

I meet her gaze steadily. ‘I won’t hurt her.’

‘For your sake, I hope you don’t.’ She glances at her watch, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes. ‘She and Aria are helping out the legal team today, but she’ll be back in my office tomorrow.’noveldrama

A voice calls out to Penelope—Dr. Kendall Hensen. The Hawkeyes in-house doctor.

‘I was just coming to see you,’ Penelope says, beaming at Kendall, then turns back to me. ‘Good luck, JP. You’re going to need it,’ she says with a smirk.

I nod and then head for the exit.

First order of business—ice this knee.

Then tomorrow, I’ll convince Cammy to give me a second chance… at helping her with the auction.

Here goes nothing.