Ren
The moment I met her, I knew Frankie Zeferino was someone worth waiting for. Deadpan delivery, secret heart of gold, and a rare one-dimpled smile that makes my knees weak, Frankie has been forbidden since the day she and I became coworkers, meaning waiting has been the name of my game—besides, hockey, that is.
I'm a player on the team, she's on staff, and as long as we work together, dating is off-limits. But patience has always been my virtue. Frankie won't be here forever—she's headed for bigger, better things. I just hope that when she leaves the team and I tell her how I feel, she won't want to leave me behind, too.
Frankie
I've had a problem at work since the day Ren Bergman joined the team: a six foot three hunk of happy with a sunshine smile. I'm a grumbly grump and his ridiculously good nature drives me nuts, but even I can't entirely ignore that hot tamale of a ginger with icy eyes, the perfect playoff beard, and a body built for sin that he's annoyingly modest about.
Before I got wise, I would have tripped over myself to get a guy like Ren, but with my diagnosis, I've learned what I am to most people in my life—a problem, not a person. Now, opening my heart to anyone, no matter how sweet, is the last thing I'm prepared to do.
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