Page 1 of Checking It Twice
Chapter One
Game Face
Clare
The Dallas Stampede locker room smells like sweat, equipment cleaner, and enough testosterone to choke a lesser woman.
Lucky for me, I’ve built up immunity over the past two years.
“Clare! Tell Chase his book club pick sucks,” Ty Novak calls out, water dripping from his hair.
I don’t look up from my clipboard. “Your opinion is noted and filed appropriately.”
“Which means?”
“Trash can. Next to your last three suggestions.”
The guys laugh, and Ty flips me off. I flash him my sweetest smile—the one that says: I run this room, no matter how much you all bench press.
“Book club in fifteen,” I announce to the handful of players who actually participate. “Conference room B.”
“What’d Chase pick this time?” Bennett asks, toweling off.
“Something with a second chance trope,” I say, checking my list. Only six guys signed up for this month’s discussion—it’s completely voluntary, which makes my job easier. No arm-twisting required.
The fan book club was my boss Vivian's stroke of genius. She created it to soften the team's image. Female fans go crazy for seeing these tough hockey players discussing romance novels.Chase Remington became the unexpected face of it after book two, and now we get hundreds of fan submissions every month. I coordinate the discussions and turn them into social media gold.
My gaze drifts across the room and snags on Mitchell Drake. He’s sitting on the bench in front of his locker, staring at his phone like it just delivered his death sentence. The usual easy energy that radiates from him is completely gone.
Which is weird. Mitchell Drake is never still. Never quiet. And definitely never this… breakable.
He’s the guy who remembers birthdays, cracks jokes during film sessions, and somehow makes even the grumpiest sports reporters laugh during interviews. He has this gravitational pull that allows everyone around him to feel like they’re in on some inside joke.
Today? He looks like someone sucked all the light out of him.
It’s unsettling.
“Earth to Clare.” Bennett’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You getting all dreamy over there?”
Heat crawls up my neck. Getting caught staring at players is exactly the kind of thing that feeds gossip mills and makes my job exponentially harder. “Just making sure everyone’s decent before I start taking attendance.”
“Decent’s relative,” Hayes says.
“So’s your face.”
It makes no sense, but they laugh anyway. I love this part—the easy banter, being part of their weird hockey family. What Idon’t love is the way my pulse kicks up whenever Mitchell Drake enters my orbit.
Professional boundaries, Clare.You learned this lesson the hard way.
“Drake.” I keep my voice business casual. “You coming, or do I need to send Lucy after you?”
His head snaps up. For half a second, something raw flashes across his face before he slides his trademark grin into place.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Lucy’s scarier than a charging defenseman.”
“Smart man.”
The guys start filing toward the door, but Mitch hangs back, still staring at that phone. Whatever he’s looking at makes his jaw tighten, and I recognize the signs. Off-ice drama has a nasty habit of becoming on-ice problems, which become PR nightmares, which becomemyproblems.
