Hat Trick Daddies: A Reverse Harem Hockey Romance (Minneapolis Marauders) by Summer James

Author:Summer James [James, Summer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-03-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Tyler

I wake up to the soft buzz of my phone against the nightstand.

Stretching, I grab it, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I unlock the screen. The group chat is blowing up, and I can’t help but grin as I scroll through the messages.

Nick’s message is first.

>> Last night? Wow. Just wow. Round two soon?

Brooks jumps in right after.

>> Not sure we can call it a round. Felt more like an entire tournament.

And then there’s Ally’s reply, coy but dripping with innuendo.

>> I think I’m still catching my breath, but…yeah, definitely, yes.

The smile on my face widens as I fire off a reply.

>> You guys started without me? Rude.

Ally’s typing bubbles pop up almost instantly.

>> Wouldn’t dream of leaving you out. Just setting the mood for when you woke up.

My heart races as I lean back into the pillows, reading the playful banter that follows. Nick fires off a teasing comment about stamina, Brooks chimes in with a suggestion to “revisit strategy,” and Ally, jokes about needing an ice pack for her “aches”, telling us, “You guys gave me quite the thrashing” with a winky-smiley face.

I type back.

>> Guess I’ll need to limber up for next time. Can’t let you guys wear me out too fast.

The chat explodes with laughing emojis and winks, and I can’t help but feel like this crazy, wild thing we’ve got going is something special. Something I didn’t know I needed.

I roll out of bed and decide I better hit up the gym before I decide that staying in bed all day and texting sounds like way more fun.

When I get there, the gym smells like sweat. The rhythmic pounding of my feet against the treadmill blends with the steady hum of the machines around me.

My trainer, a wiry guy named Steve with the endurance of a marathon runner, claps his hands sharply, his voice cutting through the morning fog in my head.

“Let’s pick it up, Tyler! Ten more seconds at this pace, then we’re switching!”

I grit my teeth, pushing through the burn in my legs. The digital timer on the treadmill ticks down, and as it hits zero, Steve motions me off. “All right, let’s move! Grab the ropes!”

I head to the heavy battle ropes lying coiled on the floor like sleeping snakes. Picking them up, I feel the coarse texture bite into my palms. Steve counts down, and I throw myself into it, whipping the ropes up and down in powerful, rhythmic waves.

My shoulders scream in protest, but I keep going, sweat dripping down my temple and onto the mat below.

“Nice! Keep that form!” Steve shouts, pacing behind me.

The circuit continues, moving from cardio to burpees, then to weighted squats. Each movement is a new challenge, but I feel alive, every fiber of my body firing on all cylinders. The music blasting from the gym speakers is upbeat, driving me forward.

Finally, we finish with weights, and I slam the barbell in my hand onto the rack, breathing hard but feeling accomplished.

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