Pucking Around With My Ex's Older Brother

Chapter 1

Chloe's pov

The email notification popped up on my screen with a cheerful ping that felt like a death knell. I stared at the subject line: "Chicago Ravens Season Feature Assignment." My heart hammered against my ribs as I clicked open the message from my editor at Sports Illustrated.

"Chloe," it read, "We're impressed with your work on the NHL beat this season. We'd like you to take the lead on our Chicago Ravens season feature. You'll have exclusive access to the team throughout the playoffs. This is a huge opportunity—don't screw it up."

I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under my weight. The Chicago Ravens. Ethan Miller's team. The brother of the man who had shattered my heart three years ago. The universe clearly had a sick sense of humor.

My phone buzzed on the desk, Madison's face lighting up the screen. I let it go to voicemail. I wasn't ready to hear her "everything happens for a reason" speech right now. Instead, I scrolled through the team roster on my computer, my finger hovering over Ethan's name before I could stop myself.

Ethan Miller, #17, Captain. Six-foot-three, 210 pounds of brooding intensity. I remembered him from my days with Jake—always watching from the sidelines with those dark eyes that seemed to see right through me. He'd never said much, but his presence had been undeniable. Unlike Jake, who demanded attention like a spoiled child, Ethan commanded respect with quiet authority.

"Stop it," I muttered, closing the tab. This was professional. This was my career. I would not let my past jeopardize this opportunity.

The next morning, I stood outside the United Center, my press credentials feeling heavy around my neck. The arena buzzed with activity—staff rushing around, the distant sound of skates on ice, the unmistakable smell of a hockey rink that I'd always found strangely comforting.

"Chloe Anderson?" A voice called from behind me.

I turned to find a man in a Ravens tracksuit approaching. He was older, with kind eyes and a clipboard in hand. "I'm Dave, the team's PR coordinator. I'll be showing you around today."

"Nice to meet you," I said, extending my hand.

"The pleasure's all mine. We're excited to have you covering us this season." He gestured toward the locker room entrance. "The guys are just finishing up practice. Coach wants you to meet with a few key players afterward."

My stomach twisted into knots. "Ethan Miller included?"

Dave nodded. "Captain's orders. He specifically requested to meet with you first."

My blood ran cold. Why would Ethan want to meet with me first? Unless Jake had warned him I was coming. Unless this was some elaborate setup to humiliate me.

As we approached the locker room, the sound of laughter and shouting grew louder. Dave pushed open a door, revealing a hallway lined with players in various states of undress. I kept my eyes fixed forward, focusing on the door at the end of the hall.

"Coach's office is just through here," Dave said, knocking lightly. "Coach? Chloe Anderson from Sports Illustrated is here."

The door opened to reveal a man with a graying mustache and intense eyes. "Chloe, welcome. I'm Coach Wilson. Please, come in."

I stepped inside, my nerves settling slightly as I took in the office covered in game photos and strategy boards. "Thank you for having me, Coach."

"We're glad to have you." He gestured to a chair. "Ethan will be in shortly. He's finishing up with the trainer."

As if on cue, the door opened and Ethan Miller stepped inside. Time seemed to slow as my eyes met his. He was bigger than I remembered, his shoulders broader, his jaw sharper. A fresh scar cut through his left eyebrow, adding to his rugged appearance.

"Chloe," he said, his voice deeper than I recalled. "Long time no see."

"Ethan," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's good to see you."

His lips curved into a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Is it? Last I heard, you couldn't wait to get away from anything Miller-related."

I felt my cheeks flush. "That's not fair. I just needed space from... from your brother."

He moved closer, the scent of his cologne—something woodsy and masculine—filling the space between us. "And yet here you are. Back where it all began."

"This is professional, Ethan. I'm here to do a job."

"Right." He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. "And what exactly does that job entail? Following us around? Digging into our personal lives? Looking for dirt?"

I stood abruptly, my anger overriding my nerves. "I'm a journalist, not a gossip columnist. I'm here to cover your team's playoff run, nothing more."

"Is that so?" He pushed off the desk, closing the distance between us until we were inches apart. "Then why did I get a call from Jake this morning warning me about you?"

My breath caught. "Jake called you? Why?"

"That's what I'd like to know." His eyes darkened. "Seems my little brother still has a thing for his ex-girlfriend."

I shook my head, backing away. "That's over. It's been over for three years."

"Has it?" He followed my retreat, his presence overwhelming. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're still tangled up with the Miller family."

"Only professionally," I insisted, my voice shaking slightly.

Ethan stepped closer again, his large frame blocking my escape route. "Professional, huh? Is that why you're blushing right now? Is that why your heart is racing? I can hear it from here, Chloe."

My hand flew to my chest instinctively. "I'm not... this is just... this is overwhelming."

"Is it?" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Or is it just me?"

Before I could answer, Coach Wilson cleared his throat. "Ethan, that's enough. Chloe is here to do a job, and I expect you to treat her with the respect any member of the press deserves."

Ethan straightened up but didn't move away. "Of course, Coach. Just making sure our guest understands the boundaries."

I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. "I understand completely. I'll be professional, and I expect the same in return."

Ethan's eyes met mine again, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker there—something that looked suspiciously like hurt. "Professional. Right."

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. I needed to get out of there, to breathe air that wasn't saturated with Ethan Miller's presence.

"If you'll excuse me," I said, turning toward the door. "I should get started on my research for the first article."

Ethan's hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist. His grip was firm but not painful. "Not so fast. We need to establish some ground rules first."

I looked down at his hand on my skin, then back up at his face. "Ground rules?"

"Rule number one," he said, his voice low and intense. "You don't talk to Jake about anything you see or hear here. You don't mention our conversations to him. Nothing."

I pulled my wrist free. "I wouldn't dream of it. Jake and I don't talk."

"Rule number two," he continued, ignoring my protest. "You stay out of the locker room unless accompanied by Dave or myself. No wandering around unattended."

I nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

"Rule number three," he said, stepping closer again. "And this is the most important one. You don't get involved with any of the players. Not romantically, not sexually, not in any way that could compromise your position here or distract the team."

I laughed, but it came out sounding more like a choke. "Trust me, that's the last thing on my mind."

His eyes searched mine, looking for something I couldn't identify. "Good. Because the last thing this team needs is a distraction, especially not with the playoffs starting next week."

"Is that all?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm I couldn't hide.

Ethan's jaw tightened. "For now. But make no mistake, Chloe. I'll be watching you."

The unspoken threat hung between us as I finally made my escape from the office. As I hurried down the hallway, away from the man who had once been just my ex-boyfriend's brother but now felt like so much more, I couldn't shake the feeling that this assignment was going to test me in ways I never expected.

I pushed through the doors leading out of the arena, gasping as the cold Chicago air hit my face. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and this time I answered.

"Madison," I said, my voice shaky.

"Chloe? Are you okay? You sound weird."

"I'm fine," I lied, leaning against the brick wall of the arena. "Just... overwhelmed."

"Did you get the assignment? Please tell me you got it."

"I got it," I confirmed, closing my eyes. "I'm covering the Chicago Ravens."

Silence on the other end of the line, then Madison's excited shriek. "No way! That's amazing! Oh my god, Chloe, this is huge!"

"Yeah," I said, my voice flat. "Huge."

"Wait, why aren't more excited? This is exactly what you've been working toward."

I took a deep breath, preparing for the fallout.