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CHAPTER 1

LAWSON

October last year…

“Stay away from Sutton.”

Beckett Moore is suddenly in front of me, blocking my way after I’ve taken only two steps into the locker room.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I ask.

Out of the blue, in the middle of the game, he slammed me into the boards. I shoved him back. He came at me again, and we wrestled.

He also called me an asshole and took a swing. I blocked it, and then our teammates intervened. But I have no idea where this is coming from, what prompted the scuffle during the game, or what this has to do with his sister.

“Knock it off!” Alex Olson steps up next to us, planting a hand on each of our chests and pushing us apart. “What the hell is going on with you two?”

Wes Franklin and Hudson Duval move in beside us, too. They’re the goalies and the biggest guys in the locker room. No more punches will be thrown with Wes and Hudson babysitting us.

This is a friendly, fun league. We all love hockey and play for the fans' entertainment, not for league standings or even the numbers on the scoreboard. Hell, a huge part of the game is the dance numbers, lip-syncing, and silly skits and games that pepper the actual puck-and-stick play. We all live and work in the area and are friends outside the locker room. Hockey is a part-time, just-for–fun thing we all do. Supposedly.

Some of us do take it more seriously than others, and Beckett is one of them. Still, that doesn’t explain what’s going on here.

“Lawson is messing with Sutton,” Beckett says.

What? “I’m not doing a dammed thing with your sister,” I tell him.

Okay, if I’m totally honest, I do think about his sister sometimes.

More often than I should.

Probably inappropriately at times.

I have definitely checked out her ass a few times. Sutton Moore has a fantastic ass, and I can almost guarantee that I’m not the only one on the team who’s noticed.

She’s also sweet, kind, infinitely patient, creative, and gorgeous.

Sutton is a dancer who coaches the choreography for our teams. We’ve all gotten to know her well in the time she’s been working with us, and without even asking, I know there’s no one in this locker room who doesn’t like her.

“Messing with a teammate’s sister is bad enough, and you guys have obviously been sneaking around, but now you’re gonna lie about it straight to my face?” Beckett asks.

I frown. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He moves to lunge at me, and Wes clamps a huge hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.

“Knock that shit off, Moore,” Alex says. “He’s telling you you’re wrong.”

“I heard it from her!” Beckett shouts.

“There’s no way,” I insist. “We are not messing around!”

What is he talking about? What did Sutton say to him? And why?

“What in the hell is going on?”

We all spin toward the door as it bangs open.

Our owner, Astrid Olsen O’Grady, stands in the doorway, hands on her hips. “The game is supposed to be bonkers. Not the players.” She looks from me to Beckett. “What is the problem, gentlemen?”