The Romance Playbook

1. Dax

dax

. . .

“Rogers, your shirt’s on backwards.”

I look down, expecting to see a cartoon drawing of Herbie, the mascot for the Gilroy Garlic Festival—it’s basically a guy with a garlic head, and yes, he’s as creepy as you think—and what do you know, Coach Kessler is right. All I see is the blank back side of my green T-shirt.

“Uh, thanks for pointing that out.” I step inside his office and take a seat across from him.

His cherrywood desk is covered with paperwork and a half-eaten bag of chips from his stash that he keeps hidden from the missus.

It looks like a tornado blew through this room, but at least Coach has his shirt on the right way. “I had kind of a late night.”

“I heard.” His bushy eyebrows wiggle up and down like two caterpillars.

“In fact, all of Briarwood has heard about your after-hours activities and who you’ve been doing them with.

What’s going on with you, Rogers? I’m not one to pry, but when your personal life’s affecting your game, I’m not going to sit on the sidelines and watch you fall and take the team down with you. ”

I sit up straighter in my chair. The two cups of coffee I downed this morning didn’t do much for me, but Coach’s message is like a shot of caffeine straight into my veins.

I’ve been playing for the NHL for six years now, but being traded to the Bobcats has given me my first chance to be the starting goalie.

The last thing I want is to disappoint Coach, my teammates, or the fans.

“I hear what you’re saying. I won’t let it affect my game. ”

Leaning his forearms onto the desk, Coach Kessler narrows his eyes at me. “Who is this it you’re referring to? What’s her name?”

“Her name?” I smirk. “What happened to not prying, Coach?”

“This is called information gathering. The wife always says I don’t ask enough questions. So, humor me a little. Which woman’s not affecting your game?”

“There’s no woman involved. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“That’s because you’re seeing a lot of someones.” He picks up his cell phone and swipes at the screen a few times before turning it to face me. “Wanna tell me about this?”

The bold uppercase print on BuzzBeat’s website reads Dax Rogers Catches Pucks All Night Long…

Puck Bunnies, That Is. I can’t help but chuckle.

For a celebrity tabloid, they have a decent sense of humor.

But their photography skills could use some work.

“That’s not a good picture of me at all. The lighting is terrible.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Coach tosses his phone onto a stack of papers. “Come on, Rogers. You’re better than this.”

My chest twinges. I’ve heard those four words so often in my two dozen years of life, I should have developed a complex by now.

Maybe I have. Even with a championship ring from my time with the Gilroy Gladiators and my face on a line of custom-scented candles, I still can’t compete with my older brother.

No matter how many units of Rogers in Red or Butterfly they know exactly what to say to make me feel good.

Whether or not they really mean it is another story.

“Cuz!” a woman’s voice calls out.

I backtrack to one of the offices on my left and poke my head in. “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“No kidding. I called you twice, but you were lost in your own world.” Vivian, my cousin, who’s a few years older than me, happens to work as the Bobcats’ PR Manager.

Her piercing green eyes, the same color that all the cousins on our dads’ side share, zero in on me.

“Are you okay? Your shirt’s on backwards. ”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” Stepping into the room, I pull the shirt off, then slip it back on the right way. By the time I look at Vivian again, she has a grimace on her face like she just saw a horror show. “Seriously, Vivi? There are people willing to pay big bucks to get a look at my abs.”

“And I am not one of them. There’s a reason why we have locker rooms, you know.”

I roll my eyes. As much as I love my cousin, she’s like an overbearing older sister I never had. For a woman half my size, she has an attitude that’s twice as fierce as any of the guys’ on the team. While she’s a good person to have on your side, I pity the man who ends up with her.

“Anyway,” she continues without skipping a beat, “the reason I called you in here was to ask you a favor. Have a seat.”

I sit, but I don’t get comfortable. There’s nothing about this immaculately clean and organized office that makes you want to let down your guard. “Is this for an event you’re planning?”

“No, it’s not work related.”

“Really? When do you not think about work?”

“When I think about my friends.”

I open my mouth to respond, but her raised eyebrow quickly shuts me up.

“Before you imply that I don’t have any friends, I can assure you that I do. This one I’m thinking about is one of my good friends from college.”

I nod. “Okay. So, what do you want me to do? Autograph a photo of myself? Make a surprise birthday call?”

“This is not at all about you, Cuz. It’s about hockey. Would you mind if my friend shadows you for research purposes?”

“Research?”

“For a book about hockey.”

“Huh, that’s different.” I shrug, not really caring either way. “Yeah, that’s fine. It’s not a book about me, is it? Because I’d have to get that cleared by my agent.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s not about you? It’s about the sport.”

“I wouldn’t mind if it was a book about me. I’d be happy to include some photos of my abs, too.”

Now it’s her turn for an eye roll. “Promise me you will leave your shirt on. I would like to keep this friendship. Charlie’s one of the good ones.”

My ears perk up at the name Charlie. All this time I’d assumed Vivi’s friend was a woman, but it turns out it’s a man. Which works out all the better for me as far as my “no distractions” pledge is concerned. “No worries. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Minutes later, I’m in my car when my phone buzzes with an incoming text from Vivi’s friend.

Charlie: Thank you so much for letting me shadow you. I really appreciate it.

Me: No problem. I’m free today if you want to meet.

Charlie: That would be great! Anytime today works for me.

Me: How about Sweet ’N’ Smooth in an hour?

Charlie: Sure! I love their smoothies. See you then!

After we end our text exchange, I find myself staring at my phone. I’m not one to judge—or maybe I am—but I’ve never seen a guy use so many emojis before. It’ll be interesting to meet this Charlie in person.