Page 2 of Broken As Puck

Her sky-blue eyes scanned my teammates, one by one. They flickered briefly when they landed on me, but then she carried on, as if she hadn’t noticed my existence. I supposed I deserved that.

I studied her more closely, wondering what changes time had wrought. Her upright posture gave her a sense of confidence she didn’t previously have, but other than that, she was unchanged, although her smile wasn’t real. It didn’t reach her eyes. My Chelsey had always smiled with her whole face. I hated to think that I might be part of the reason for her disconnected smile now.

“Hi,” Chelsey spoke in her familiar low, melodious voice. “As Mr. Robertson said, I’m Chelsey. I moved here recently from Los Angeles. I’m a massive sports fan who grew up watching hockey with my family and friends. I played at one point, but let’s just say I’m better in the stands than on the ice.”

I hid a smile. That was one way to put it. I’d played socially with Chelsey back in college and while she was passionate about pretty much every sport, she wasn’t the most coordinated. She looked like she ought to be graceful. She just…wasn’t.

“I’m looking forward to getting to know you all better,” she continued, not fidgeting despite the many large men focused on her. I had no right to feel proud of her, but I did, nonetheless.

I glanced at Coach Dunn and then at Robertson, both of whom were watching us—presumably to determine whether we intended to give them any trouble over this. Neither of them was looking at me, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether Chelsey had disclosed our former relationship to them when she’d taken the job. If she had, they weren’t making it obvious.

Chelsey’s gaze swept over us again, and I willed her to meet my eyes. When she didn’t, I cracked my knuckles, dread curling in the pit of my gut.

“We’ll have several projects on the go this season. To begin with, I’d like to get profiles of each of you up on the website and on major social media platforms. We’ll be arranging to take photos, and I’ll need you each to fill out a short questionnaire, so we can give them a more personal touch. I think that will go a long way toward capturing the interest of your fans.”

Beside me, Drew’s scowl deepened. The moody defenseman really hated people prying into his business. I bumped him with my knee and shot him a look. I didn’t blame him, but I wouldn’t sit back and let him be rude to Chelsey either. In fact, if anyone treated her with less than one hundred percent respect, we were going to have a problem.

“We’ll also be arranging some charity fundraisers,” she continued, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and popping her curvy hip out to the side as she warmed up to the topic. “The probationary order said we have to do at least one significant event this season, but if we do more, it will look even better for the team. I haven’t confirmed what those will be yet, so if there are any particular charities you’d like to support, let me know and we can consider them as options.”

Jesse Young, the best center on the team—and a total playboy—raised his hand.

“Later, Young,” Coach Dunn said.

Jesse pouted and lowered his hand. I narrowed my eyes at him. He’d better not be planning to make a move on my girl. Okay, so she wasn’t my girl. About as far from that as possible. But Jesse didn’t get to flash his big blue eyes at her and make her fall under his spell. I’d like to think he wasn’t stupid enough to go after someone affiliated with the team, but given enough tequila, there wasn’t much Jesse wouldn’t do.

Chelsey smiled at him, and this time, it reached her eyes. I fought the urge to follow Drew’s lead and scowl.

“I’d be happy to hear any suggestions after this meeting,” she said, running a hand through her hair. Far too many eyes followed the movement for my liking. “In addition to the fundraisers, we’ll be designing a new mascot, so any thoughts on that are welcome⁠—”

“A fox!” Jesse called, ignoring the glare Robertson shot at him. “Because we’re clever and quick.”

“What about a wild dog?” a rookie suggested. “Something with teeth. Foxes are too…cute.”

“Ooh, a honey badger!”

Chelsey cleared her throat. “Bring me your ideas later. I’m happy to listen. Anyway, as Mr. Robertson said, we’ll have a documentary crew filming a mini docuseries over the length of the season. I don’t have many details about that yet, so we’ll fill you in later.”

She stepped aside, and Robertson moved forward.

“All of you are required to cooperate with Miss Fields. If she reports any problematic behavior, we’ll take it seriously, and you risk being pulled from the ice. Let me be perfectly clear: If we have another PR disaster, the team will lose first-round draft picks for two years. If there’s a second, you might be relocated to another state for a fresh start.”

My heart sank. Damn, this was serious. If we fucked up, it could ruin the team in the future. And I didn’t want to move. My parents were in Chicago. I’d built a life here. Moving would mean I’d have to uproot everything.

“We’ll end the meeting now since we’ve all been here long enough already,” Robertson continued. “Feel free to introduce yourself to Miss Fields before you leave.”

With that, he stalked out of the room. Coach Dunn stayed. He crossed his arms over his burly chest and stood sentinel a few yards from Chelsey. Perhaps he wanted to make sure none of us would be rude or inappropriate.

If so, he was right to worry. We’d been crucified in the press over the last few years, and many veteran players were suspicious of anyone related to the media, even if they were supposed to be on our side.

I didn’t move from my spot on the sofa. I wasn’t sure whether it would be best to go and talk to her now, so it was out of the way, or if it would be better to wait until everyone else had left, so we didn’t have an audience. That option would probably earn me more points with her, because even if she’d told management, I doubted she’d want the team knowing about our past.

As I deliberated, Jesse strolled right up to her and said something that made her laugh. I narrowed my eyes, my jaw tensing as Jesse grinned and practically oozed charisma all over her. That asshole.

When he asked whether she was open to tutoring players outside of work hours—followed by a wink—I couldn’t hold my tongue anymore.

“Cut it out,” I snapped, marching over and standing between them. “She’s a professional. Don’t treat her like she’s here to entertain you.”

Jesse blinked, startled. “Calm down, man. I⁠—”