Chapter One

Chapter One

Leia

Excited fans pack the arena, decked out in team colors to support the Silver Spoon Falcons—the new AHL team—at their second home game of the season. The action on the ice moves too quickly for me to keep up. I don’t know much about hockey, but it seems very…hands on.

One of the guys on our team—Number 88—has already been in two fights. He won both from what I could see. He doesn’t like Bruce Gordon on the Stingrays much. Not that I blame him. Bruce has been harassing him the entire game. At least, that’s what it looks like to me and everyone except the referees.

Bruce is up to no good.

"Are you kidding me?" The old man sitting closest to where I’m standing jumps to his feet with the rest of the crowd, shouting as Bruce collides with Number 88 again. "Learn to skate, you dirty rascal!"

I bite my tongue, trying not to laugh as the old man shakes a fist at the ice in fury.

Maybe I should go to games more often if they’re all this crazy.

I snort at the thought. Unless I find what I came looking for tonight, I may be coming to more games anyway. I just graduated with a degree in journalism and moved to Silver Spoon Falls. My roommate and friend, Elysa, is dating a new guy, Gavin Cochran. He claims he’s into investing. She’s convinced he’s involved in illegal gambling. I thought she was just being dramatic, but I agreed to investigate anyway to appease her.

I did not expect to find Gavin meeting with Jimmy Brinks from the Timberwolves last week when they were in town. I chalked it up to coincidence until I also caught him meeting with Bruce Gordon behind the arena before the game tonight. This time, I managed to get pictures of Gavin handing Bruce a fat wad of cash.

They’re in cahoots. I’m just not sure what they’re plotting. I thought maybe Gavin was paying them to throw games, but the Timberwolves won last week. And Bruce isn’t playing to lose now. But what does that leave?

My brother is the athlete in our family. I know nothing about sports or sports betting or why a bookie would pay a player when one solitary player can’t guarantee a win.

I’d very much like to know, though.

Play resumes on the ice and the crowd settles down. I scoot closer to the exit leading toward the player area. Thanks to my job at the local paper, I have a press pass, but it doesn’t grant me a whole lot of access. Not the kind I need, anyway. I intend to do a little snooping in the Stingrays’ locker room while they’re on the ice.

Number 88 gains control of the puck and takes off down the ice with it. As the crowd leaps to their feet, I slip through the exit into the back hallway, holding my breath. Security must be preoccupied by the game because they don’t yell after me.

I exhale a tiny breath and take stock of my surroundings. The hallway is a wide passage made of concrete blocks and cement with fluorescent lights overhead. There’s only one direction to go, so I shrug and follow the path. It slopes downward.

I grumble and walk slowly. Maybe heels weren’t a good idea.

At the bottom of the steep slope, the hallway branches in three directions. I have no idea which way to go from here. I peer down the hall to the left and right, but it curves in each direction several yards ahead, blocking my view. I take the hallway directly ahead—the one where I can see doors branching off on each side.

I peer into the first but can’t tell what’s inside. Jiggling the handle is useless. It’s locked.

I huff and move onto the second. It’s a storeroom for the concession stands. Boxes of food supplies line the metal shelves. The third is some sort of boiler room. The fourth is a janitor’s closet. Mops, buckets, brooms, and one of those industrial-sized floor waxers are crammed into the tight space. It smells like bleach.

"Good job, Leia. You picked the wrong hallway," I mutter in disgust. Where’s Charlie when I need her?

"Yo, Tony! Grab more Bud Light while you’re down there."

"Crap!" I slip into the janitor’s closet, pressing my back up against the wall.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony shouts back from the end of the hall. "I’ve got it."

I definitely should have brought Charlie with me on this mission. My younger sister causes as many problems as she solves, but when it comes to sneaking around, she’s got a lot more experience than I do. She’s been bluffing her way out of one predicament or another her whole life.

Me? Not so much.

My smart mouth is liable to sink me deeper before it gets me out of trouble. I don’t like being told what to do. Or where to go. Or what I can or can’t know.

I press my ear to the door, straining to hear Tony moving around in the storeroom two doors down. Sound doesn’t carry through the concrete well. I can’t hear anything. I give up trying and wait a full five minutes before carefully poking my head out.

The coast is clear.

I scurry back down the hallway and turn right.

Breathe, Leia. Breathe.

I force myself to slow my steps slightly and stand up straight. If you act like you’re supposed to be there, most people don’t question you as much. Since I have a press pass, hopefully if I run into anyone, they’ll just assume I’m where I’m supposed to be.

Forty-five seconds later, I get to test that theory. I round the corner, and a row of doors come into view, alongside a security guard playing on his cell phone. He’s leaning against the wall not even five feet from a set of double doors. It must be a locker room.

He flicks his gaze up at me.

"Hello." I give him a polite, confident smile.

He eyes me silently, his brows furrowing.

Crap.He’s going to stop me.

I pick up the pace, veering toward the door.

"You can’t go in—"

"I’m with the press." I flash him my badge and scurry through the doors before he has a chance to say a word. The doors swing shut behind me.

I inhale a relieved breath…and let it out in a shocked rush. This isn’t the Stingrays’ locker room. The giant emblem on the carpet in the middle of the room is a falcon, and the locker room is decked out in blue and white. I think a bomb went off at some point. Benches are overturned. Pads have been flung across the floor. There’s even a pair of pants dangling from the edge of a locker.

"What the fuck?"

I spin to the left with my hand over my heart.

Holy crap.

Number 88 looked like a beast on the ice. It’s nothing compared to the sight of him standing in front of me wearing nothing but tattoos and a dark scowl. He is…wow. Yes. That’s it, exactly. He is wow. He’s a good six-four with the body of an athlete. Makes sense, all things considered.

"Where did you come from?" I gape, caught completely off-guard by the sight of him.

"Where did I come from?" He flicks his gaze up and down my body. His hazel eyes linger a little bit longer than they should on my chest. "Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?"

Oh, right.

"Got lost," I lie. "You were on the ice ten minutes ago. How are you naked now?" I peel my gaze away from his ridiculous body—I bet being God’s favorite is seriously awesome—and scan the locker room. "And what happened in here? A freaking tornado?"

"Again with the questions?"

"I like to know things." I turn back to him, my gaze naturally falling to his…Good grief. Why is it hard? "Can you please put away your…" I wave my hand in the general direction of his dick. "That monster?"

"Uh, no?" He quirks a brow. "You snuck into our locker room. If you didn’t want to see my dick, you shouldn’t have followed me. And if you don’t want him to be hard, you should stop talking."

I scowl at him, which makes him shrug, completely unrepentant. So I refuse to acknowledge the last part of his statement. I don’t even know what the last part of his statement means. "I did not follow you. I thought you were still on the ice where you’re supposed to be," I protest. "And you still haven’t explained why you aren’t there, by the way."

"Got ejected from the game." He scowls, reaching up to touch his finger to his lip. Only then do I notice that it’s split. There’s a small cut above his right eyebrow too, partially hidden by the damp blond strands plastered to his head. "For instigating. The ref decided he had enough of me attacking Gordon."

I snort. "Maybe if the ref got his head out of Bruce Gordon’s butt, he could clearly see that Gordon started those fights."

Number 88’s scowl slips. His eyes crinkle at the corner as his lips curve into a grin. He’s got a pirate’s smile, the kind that screams trouble. The kind that makes my stomach flutter. "At least we agree on that much," he says, taking a step toward me. His erection bobs, drawing my attention again.

Jeez. It’s even harder now. I thought dicks were supposed to be ugly, but his is kind of beautiful. Or maybe I’ve officially lost my mind. Who am I kidding? I’m standing in a locker room with a naked hockey player, grilling him about why he’s in the locker room as if I have a right. I’ve definitely lost my mind.

"You’re staring at my cock again, goddess."

"I am not!" I squeak, wheeling around so quickly my head spins.

"I’ll let you look all you want if you tell me your name."

"Leia."

He chuckles and I press my hands to my overheated cheeks.

"I did not give you my name because I want to look at your junk," I growl. "I need a favor."

"Did you just insult my dick?"

"What? No. Oh my gosh. Why are we even talking about it?" I cry. How is this happening right now? My sisters are never going to let me live this down when they find out.

"You’re the one who keeps bringing him up." He chuckles. "In more ways than one."

"Oh, my God. Stop talking!"

He laughs again. "What kind of favor do you need, Trouble?"

"What’s your name?"

"My name is your favor?"

"No," I groan and close my eyes. "This would go so much faster if you’d put clothes on so I can look at you."

"Again, no. How do you not know my name, but you know that fucker’s name?" he growls.

"Who?"

"Bruce Gordon."

"Long story."

"I’ve got time."

"Well, I don’t. And I don’t know anything about hockey."

"But you know Bruce Gordon."

"I know his name. If you’d quit being irritating, I’d know yours too."

"Colter Bayliss."

"Colter," I repeat, resisting the urge to shiver as I say it. It fits him, though I’m not sure why.

"Say my name again and you’ll be naked in this locker room too, Leia."

I whip around to face him. Only he isn’t across the room anymore. He’s standing right in front of me. So freaking close I practically bump into him. He grasps my arms to keep me from tipping over backward. His scent wraps around me and my entire body quivers. I brush against his erection in the process.

"Fuck," he mutters, his pupils flaring as he sways toward me. His jaw turns to granite as he tries to get himself in check.

"Let me go," I whisper, my whole body aching for something that it shouldn’t want. I don’t even know this man. Just because he’s naked and touching me shouldn’t make me want to jump into his arms. And yet…that’s exactly what I want to do.

"Tell me why you’re in our locker room."

"I got lost."

"Who were you trying to surprise?" His gaze rakes across my face, his expression hard.

"Who was I trying to…?" My stomach sinks as realization dawns. I jerk out of his hold, putting space between us. He thinks I’m a puck bunny. "I’m not a puck bunny, Colter. I’m a journalist. I’m looking into a story and got lost. That’s it."

"What story?"

"One that doesn’t involve you."

"What story, Leia?"

"One about a bossy hockey player who gets ejected from games and destroys locker rooms," I snap, rolling my eyes. Until he accused me of being a puck bunny, I fully intended to recruit him to help me. But now? No thanks. "Is that what you want to hear? That I’m writing a story about you? Well, too bad because I’m not. My story has nothing to do with you or your giant ego."

He narrows his eyes at me, growling softly. "I like that smart fucking mouth, Trouble. The more you sass me with it, the more I want to fill it."

"Too bad for you because I’m not a puck bunny." I poke him in the chest. "And another thing, buster, I don’t even like hockey!"

He throws his head back and laughs.

I consider punching him in the throat, and then decide I probably shouldn’t. He’s already been in more than enough fights tonight. Besides, violence never solves anything. At least that’s what Adalynn, my older sister, keeps telling me.

I decide she’s probably right. Instead of punching him, I just growl at him and stomp toward the doors.

He grabs me before I make it two steps, hauling me up against his chest. His lips touch the side of my throat. "I’m going to find out what you’re up to, Trouble. Don’t think I won’t."

"Well, good luck with that because I’m not going to make it easy for you, Bossy."

His rough hands glide across my chest, sending waves of heat through me.

My core clenches. I fight the urge to whimper, refusing to fall under his spell. He’s grumpy and bossy and I’m not entirely sure I even like him all that much.

Liar, liar, pants on fire, a little voice whispers.

I imagine myself smothering it with a pillow.

"Yo, Colter, is everything…?" The security guard who was stationed outside pokes his head inside the locker room, takes one look at me in Colter’s arms with his hands on my boobs, and snaps his mouth closed. He slowly pulls back, disappearing from the doorway.

"Shit," Colter whispers into the ensuing silence.

My cheeks blaze with humiliation. The security guard now thinks I’m a puck bunny too. He probably believes I came back here to have pity sex with Colter after he got kicked out of the game.

This is Silver Spoon Falls. Gossip travels at the speed of light around here. By next week, it’ll be all over town. Razor, my brother-in-law, will find out, and then my sisters, and my brother. It’ll be the Grand Inquisition. And any chance I had of settling quietly into this town will vanish in a puff of smoke. Everyone will think I landed this story by sleeping with Colter and not through my own hard work.

"Leia, wait," Colter growls, reaching for me when I jerk out of his arms, trying to put distance between us.

"Getting caught naked with a woman in a locker room may make you look good, but it doesn’t make me look good, Colter. I came here to do a job. Leave me alone and let me do it!" I cry, stomping toward the doors. "And for the love of God, put on some freaking pants!"

"This isn’t over!" he shouts as I rush out of the locker room with my head down.