Pucking Only (Night Hawks Hockey #2)

Chapter One A Man’s World

CHAPTER ONE: A MAN’S WORLD

SKYLER

TEN YEARS LATER

My fingers hover above the keyboard as I glance at the game build running on an adjacent monitor. A small character jumps from platform to platform, the movements fluid yet lacking the polish I envision. With a furrowed brow, I open the physics engine, tweaking variables and adjusting the gravity scale. My mind buzzes with calculations, visualizing the impact of each change.

“Skyler? Skyler! Hello? I’m talking to you!”

When the beady eyes and pursed lips of my least favorite coworker suddenly appear in my line of sight, I jump and let out a gasp.

Narrowing my gaze into a glare, I yank off my headphones and snap, “Samuel! What are you doing? Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Samuel, AKA Captain Douchepants, steps back and looks down at me over the bridge of his nose. He always does that, and I know it’s meant to make me feel as small as possible. He’s not even that tall, but he’s tall enough to be annoying. It doesn’t help that I’m a pipsqueak and only come up to about his nose, so I’m always forced to look up at him. Samuel reminds me of a weasel — not just his personality, but strangely enough, his looks too. His build is long and lanky, and his facial features are sharp and pointed. Even his hair, a dull brown that is flat and cut in a sharp bowl cut, gives me rodent vibes. He’s only 28, but he has the temperament of a middle-aged man who doesn’t want kids running across his lawn. For some reason, ever since I started, he seems to have it out for me. Personally, I think it’s because he knows I have more skills than he does when it comes to code. He just can’t stand the idea of a girl being better at his job than he is.

As much as I can’t stand him, though, he gets props for wearing a The Last of Us shirt with a comfy red and black flannel opened in the front.

I do my best to ignore the fact that I’m basically wearing the same thing, except my shirt has an image of Lady Dimitrescu from Resident Evil Village on it…and my flannel is blue and gray. Tucking strands of my dirty blonde hair that have fallen out of my ponytail behind my ears, I scowl up at Samuel.

He taps a finger against my monitor screen. “What is this?”

I furrow my brow and push my glasses up my nose. “What do you mean? I’m working on characters for the new Monster Race game…”

“Are you kidding me?” he snaps. “That character was scrapped!”

I blink up at him. “What are you talking about? I was sent instructions for this one just this morning…”

“By who?” he demands to know, his voice squeaking with a nasally rasp that makes him sound like a pompous jerk and only reinforces my rodent-like vision of him .

“James,” I answer, trying my best to hide my growing exasperation.

Samuel rolls his eyes and speaks in an all-too-familiar condescending tone. “Are you serious? You know James isn’t the lead on Monster Race . Why would you listen to his instructions?”

Because he’s Daniel’s dev-partner and if I didn’t listen to him, I’d be getting yelled at by an entirely different asshole.

“Why are you getting on my case about this?” I snap. “You’re not even working on this game!”

Samuel just scoffs in reply. “I’m the assistant department head. It’s my responsibility to make sure all the games are progressing as expected and staying on schedule.”

He’s a micromanaging asswipe. I don’t bother pointing out that ‘assistant department head’ is not actually a position. It’s like Dwight Schrute declaring himself assistant to the regional manager…it’s not a thing.

Samuel’s ego is so freaking fragile that any question of his imagined authority will only turn into a headache for me. He’s just another programmer like me, but because he has about four years seniority, he likes to lord it over me every chance he gets.

“I’ll talk to Daniel,” I tell him. “If he doesn’t want me working on this character, then that’s his call.”

Samuel narrows his eyes. “Are you trying to undermine me?”

“Would you just relax?” I mumble. “Daniel is in charge of the project…”

“If you don’t do what you’re told, you might as well pack up your stuff and go.”

He doesn’t have the power to fire me, but I know if he goes to our boss and makes a complaint, his word is valued way more than mine is .

Working for Code Kickers as a videogame developer was my dream. This company has a reputation for being innovative and putting out some of the most award winning games in the industry. When I was hired as an entry level programmer after graduating from college, I was certain my career was off to the best possible start. I moved to California, leaving behind my best friend and everyone close to me for this opportunity. I thought it would be more than worth it.

So far…it hasn’t been.

This is a male-dominated industry, but I underestimated how hard it would really be to prove myself and gain respect. Samuel is the worst but my boss, Mr. Ferguson, isn’t much better. He’s not as outwardly nasty as Samuel, but he constantly overlooks me for projects. He leaves me with busy work that I could do in my sleep. He’s never yelled at me or openly criticized my work. He just kind of acts like I’m not there, like I’m invisible. He hardly acknowledges me unless he has to. It’s infuriating. What makes it even worse is that I was hired on by a recruiter, so I’ve never felt like he’s actually wanted me here. Regardless, I do my best to keep my head down and focus on my job. I know that if I do good work and pay my dues, I’ll eventually get where I want to be in the company.

“Look, Samuel…” I begin.

“Skyler. Samuel.” A deep voice suddenly booms through the room. I push to my feet so I can peek out over the top of my cubicle. Mr. Ferguson stands in the doorway of his office. Nearly forty, he doesn’t appear like what someone would think the president of an indy gaming company might look like. He’s dressed in khaki pants and a white button-up shirt. His thick-rimmed glasses magnify his dark brown eyes. He’s got a noticeable bald spot on top of his head in the middle of his chestnut colored hair. “I want to see you both right now,” he says.

I frown, confused, and steal a glance up at Samuel. He looks baffled as well. His jaw visibly clenches and he shoots me a glare before hurrying to Mr. Ferguson’s office.

Oh, crap. What’s going on? Why does Mr. Ferguson want to see us both? Whatever the reason, I don’t think it’s going to be good for me.

It never is.

Reluctantly, I leave my desk and wind through the maze of cubicles to get to Mr. Ferguson’s office. Samuel follows close behind me. When I step inside, I find our boss sitting behind his desk and Samuel shoves past me to go and sit in one of the two smaller chairs in front of it.

“Close the door, Skyler,” Mr. Ferguson says, as I enter. “Take a seat.”

I obey and hesitantly sink down into the other chair in front of his desk. Mr. Ferguson’s office is impeccably organized, reflecting his no-nonsense personality. He has framed posters of some of our top-selling games hung on his walls, as well as the various awards we’ve received for them on display via floating shelves. A large metal and glass desk sits in the center, free of clutter. The only items on it are his laptop, his multi-monitor desktop, a stylish desk lamp, and a small potted plant that adds a touch of greenery to the otherwise minimalist decor.

Mr. Ferguson folds his hands together and leans forward, his gaze bouncing between Samuel and me.

“We have a bit of a situation that’s come up,” he begins. “Richard, our senior developer, has resigned.”

I tense. I’m not sure what I expected him to say, but it wasn’t this. My heart begins to race at the news that Richard has left. The senior developer position is open. Is this the chance I’ve been waiting for? I’ve been with the company for almost a year, but when someone has the talent and the skill set necessary, they can go far, and fast. I know I’m good at what I do. I want this senior position so badly that I’m going to do whatever I can to prove I deserve it.

“Richard’s timing is not ideal,” Mr. Ferguson continues. “We just started the development stages for a new hockey game commissioned by one of our largest clients. It’s a top priority, but we can’t move forward with it because all of our other developers are working on other games.”

“Sir, I can handle it,” Samuel says. I fight not to roll my eyes. Of course he just assumes he’ll get it, the arrogant prick. “It shouldn’t be an issue…”

“Of course I’d hand it to you, Samuel,” Mr. Ferguson nods, and once more, I’m struggling to stop from rolling my eyes. “However, I’m not sure you have the code skills necessary to impress the client.”

Samuel looks stunned, his eyes wide and jaw dropped. I cough into my fist to hide my grin.

“But…but, sir,” Samuel stammers. Mr. Ferguson shakes his head, and cuts him off.

“I’m not saying you have no chance, Samuel,” Mr. Ferguson says. “However, I have to consider what will satisfy the client. Skyler’s skills are technically sharper. However, she doesn’t have the experience of full game development.”

I blink. That was almost a compliment, which is shocking. Half the time, I’m not sure he even remembers I work for him.

“Sir, you can’t be serious!” Samuel exclaims. “Skyler is not capable of this level of responsibility.”

I shoot Samuel a death glare. If I wasn’t certain it would get me fired, I’d kick him right in the balls so hard there was no chance of him creating little Samuels who would run around and be assholes to other women. Then I remember his wife, who I’ve met at a few company functions. She’s actually a sweetheart, who wants nothing more than to be a mother, so maybe I won’t try to sterilize him with my foot.

“This is what I’m going to do,” Mr. Ferguson says, pulling my attention away from Samuel. “I need this game to be the best version it can be. So whichever one of you can give me the best code for this project, that's who I’ll choose to present to the client. In turn, that’s who I’ll make senior developer.”

“What?” Samuel gasps.

“Are you serious?” I blurt out.

Mr. Ferguson narrows his eyes at me and nods. “Yes, I am very serious. This isn’t how we’d usually handle this kind of situation, but desperate times. We need this game done, and we need it done quickly. This client wants the release to coincide with the Stanley Cup, so the sooner we can provide them with something, the better. Use Unity — we aren't trying to reinvent the wheel here. We’ll keep models and animations simple but realistic. Keep the poly count low to save time but focus on textures and mapping. If you use AI for scripts, fine, but make sure you edit the code so we can actually sell the game. That all clear?”

It hadn’t fully sunk in before, but at his mention of the Stanley Cup, it hits me. This is supposed to be a hockey game.

I hate sports video games!

I’m the kinda girl who likes games with zombies, guns, or fighting. The Last of Us. Tekken. Mortal Kombat. Games with stories, stakes, and stuff that breaks free from the confines of the real world. Sports are so boring in comparison to that.

I grit my teeth. Shit. This isn’t ideal, but I can’t walk away from this chance. This is my dream job and my opportunity to really prove myself!

Plus, I’m not mad at the idea of beating Samuel out of the job and shoving it in his face .

“So, are you both agreeable to this plan?” Mr. Ferguson asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I glance over at Samuel. He looks hesitant, too. He’s not really a sports game guy, either, so we might actually be feeling something similar right now, which sucks. I hate being reminded he’s actually a real person with feelings, not a gremlin. Hell, in another world, we really do have enough in common that we could be friends.

In this world, though, he’s Captain Douchepants.

“Of course,” Samuel huffs. “It seems unnecessary, but I’m willing to do what is most beneficial for the client.”

Kiss ass.

Mr. Ferguson turns to me and meets my gaze. “Skyler?”

Swallowing, I nod. “Yeah…yes, Mr. Ferguson I’m agreeable.”

“Good.” Sitting back in his chair, he dismisses me saying, “You can go now, Skyler.”

It doesn’t escape me that he’s sending me away but not Samuel. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to give Samuel some tips to help him get a leg up in our little competition.

That’s fine. I have my own secret weapon. I’ve no doubt it’s going to secure me the win.

Standing, I nod to Mr. Ferguson, ignore Samuel, and turn to hurry out of the office. I weave through the cubicles, each one personalized with an assortment of action figures, motivational posters, dual-monitor setups displaying lines of code, intricate designs, and vibrant game scenes. I pass by walls adorned with concept art and whiteboards filled with sketches, notes, and flowcharts. Windows along the walls look out onto downtown San Diego and I can see the ocean in the distance.

When I reach my desk, I drop down into my chair and let my head fall back. Woah…I can’t believe this is happening. I’m ea ger to prove myself and snag that senior position. I feel a bubbling of nerves deep in my belly. A hockey game. I don’t know a damn thing about hockey! Still, I can’t let this chance slip through my fingers. If I’m going to kick Samuel’s ass and secure the senior developer position, I’m going to need help.

Luckily, I know exactly who I can call to get it.

First, I send a quick text to my dad.

Skyler: Big job news! Let me know when I can call!

I don’t expect an answer from him any time soon. He’s leading a hunting party through the Alaskan wilderness and won’t be back within cellphone range for another two days. I know he’ll respond as soon as he sees my message.

Once I’ve sent the text, I look around to make sure no one is watching (I don’t want Samuel getting wind of this). I scroll through my contacts and tap Grace’s name, dialing her number.

She answers after a few rings. “Hey Skyler! What’s up? Aren’t you at work?”

“Hey, Grace,” I reply, grinning at the sound of her bubbly voice. “I am at work. That’s actually why I’m calling you.”

“Oh? What’s up?”

I look around to make sure no one is close enough to my desk to overhear our conversation before I whisper, “Okay, here’s the deal. I’m getting a chance to become a senior developer.”

“Are you serious?” Grace exclaims. “That’s amazing, Sky! You’ve been working so hard and putting up with so much bullshit, you deserve this.”

At that moment, Samuel comes out of Ferguson’s office. He spots me watching him and pauses. We glare at each other for several moments. I can practically see lightning bolts shooting in the air between us. When he turns and marches to the break room, I turn my attention back to my phone call.

“Well, I don’t have the promotion yet,” I quickly clarify. “There’s something I need to do first, and I need your help to do it.”

“How could I possibly help you get your promotion?” she asks, her confusion clear in her tone.

“I have to develop a game,” I explain. “A hockey game. If my game gets selected by my boss, then the job is mine.”

I’m actually kind of lucky in a way. If it had to be a sports video game, at least it’s a sport that I have connections to. Grace has recently come around to hockey after spending most of her life absolutely hating it. Not only is she seriously dating a professional player, she’s also working for…

I tense as an unfortunate realization hits me.

Shit! Carson.

I hadn’t even thought about him. He plays on the same team as Grace’s boyfriend. She’s actually his social media manager on top of that. Getting help from her will mean seeing him again. I’ve been expertly avoiding him since high school. There have been a few unavoidable run-ins because of Grace and how close I am to his family. Each time we’ve seen each other, we’ve just ended up bickering and arguing. It’s become pretty clear that he hates me as much as I can’t stand him.

I want to go to Denver so I can get more first hand experience and knowledge of hockey, but doing so means being around Carson.

Damn…if this promotion wasn’t on the line, I’d be tempted to blow it off just so I could avoid seeing Carson again. That thought immediately pisses me off. Why should I give up the chance for promotion just because I don’t want to have to deal with Carson? God, he’s such a pain in the ass !

Grace is silent for several moments and I actually start to worry that the call has been dropped.

“Grace?” I say. “You still there?”

“I am,” she assures me. “Sorry, I’m just trying to make sense of this in my head. So, you’re supposed to design this game in order to get the job?”

“Yeah…and beat out Samuel, who’s also creating a hockey game, too.”

“So you’re literally having to compete for a position that you have more than earned? Against the guy always trying to get you fired and make you feel inferior because he’s really intimidated by your brilliance and doesn’t know how to handle himself like a man?”

When she puts it like that, it sounds about as terrible as it really is.

“I know it’s not an ideal situation,” I reply. “But this is the first real opportunity I’ve gotten to prove myself, Grace. I can’t let it slip past me!”

She’s silent again for several moments before she releases a long sigh.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “How can I help?”

“Can I come to Denver for a few weeks?” I ask. “And can you get me in good with the Night Hawks? I want to observe them and learn as much about hockey as possible so this game is perfect.”

Despite the fact that Carson has been obsessed with hockey our whole lives, and I spent so much time with the Monroe’s growing up because of Grace, I know next to nothing about hockey. I’ve never been interested in the sport. Since things with Carson and I have always been so contentious, I had no real motivation to learn about it.

“Of course you can come to Denver!” she exclaims, her previous uncertainty seemingly forgotten. “I’ll ask Jensen to talk to the coach and get things arranged so you can shadow the team. Since he’s the team’s captain, he’ll be able to convince the coach easier than Carson would. Plus, Carson hasn’t been on the team as long. I’m sure it won’t be a problem!”

Ah, Jensen Reece. Grace’s giant, pro hockey boyfriend. I haven’t actually seen the guy since their first meeting our freshmen year when we ran into him on Spring Break in Miami. It’s funny how head over heels she is for him now, even though she spent most of her life hating hockey and had sworn off ever dating hockey players. After five months with Jensen, she’s completely changed her tune.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

My lips curl into a wide smile. “Oh, my God, Grace! That would be incredible! You have no idea how much this means to me!”

“Are you kidding? Of course I’ll help you! And if it means I get to have you in Denver for a few weeks, all the better.”

I release a long breath of relief. I knew I could count on Grace. This is exactly what I need to make the best game possible. A few weeks immersed with the Night Hawks and I’ll be able to blow Samuel and his game out of the water and secure the Senior Developer position. Once I’ve done that, all the bullshit I’ve put up with will have been worth it.

The only thing standing between me and my professional dreams coming true is one stupid hockey video game…so I’m going to make it the best hockey video game ever.