Page 16 of Her Hat Trick Daddies (Game On Daddies #3)

Shane

D avid’s not himself during our weekly huddle in front of the television. Coach Henley points out the usual weaknesses that each player needs to work on individually and as a team. Pre-season’s over, and we’re stepping into the real deal. That means focus. That means showing up.

So, when Coach mentions an issue and David gives the exact same answer he gave a minute ago, I wince.

“Should’ve deked left, then slammed toward the right end of the net,” he grumbles. Word for word.

Coach and I lock eyes. Then Coach glances at Penny, our assistant coach, who gives him a subtle look . Finally, he flicks a glance toward our team captain and away again before saying, “How about we break for lunch?”

It’s 11:30 AM. Early. But clearly, I need to check on my buddy.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I could eat. ”

“Who wants a cheesesteak?”

The voices filter over to where David and I sit in the front row. He’s not reacting. Just staring at the chair next to him like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“Earth to David… come in, David,” I say, doing my best impression of Marvin the Martian.

Still nothing. He doesn’t even flinch. Just gets up, squints at the chair, then at the desk, then back to the chair, like they’ve all done him dirty. He wipes at his jeans, sits back down, and starts the whole weird cycle all over again.

David is normally steady as a rock. So yeah, this is officially weird.

“Dude, what the fuck is up with you?” I mutter, keeping it low.

A few seats down, Andy’s been unusually quiet. Suspiciously quiet. He’s been watching us like a hawk while the coaches and the rest of the team filter out. Levi and Eric bring up the rear, and the second they’re gone, Andy springs up and plops beside David like it’s a damn intervention.

Andy isn’t subtle. Despite being older than us by four years, he sometimes lets his immaturity get the better of him. He hates being out of the loop and never shuts up about it. So, of course, he opens his mouth first.

“Yeah, dude, what the fuck is up with you?” He play-punches David in the arm. “What are we talking about again?”

“You’re such a prick,” I tell him .

“Yeah, I know.” He grins like a gremlin, way too many teeth. It’s disturbing.

“Hey, Captain,” I try again. “Shit, man. Wake the fuck up.”

“I am awake,” David mutters.

Not convincingly. This is not David Decker behavior. Not even close.

“You need another coffee? Something sweet? Protein? A banana?” I rattle off, trying to get something out of him.

“I might’ve slept with someone I shouldn’t have,” he admits finally, voice low.

Andy perks up instantly. “Like who? A hooker? Do tell.”

David punches him in the arm, and that one definitely wasn’t a play punch.

“No, you idiot.”

“Then who?” I press, ready to get down to brass tacks. “Spit it out.”

He scratches his head, eyes darting everywhere but our faces. “The, uh… sports commentator.”

Andy’s face lights up, and I swear if he makes one crack about Wilson, I will punch him. Right in the face.

Maybe he senses it, because, for once, Andy keeps his damn mouth shut.

Leighton Jennings, this year’s rookie sports commentator, has been doing a decent job so far, but I had no clue David had set his sights on her for any extracurriculars. Damn. My friend is not one to dip his pen in company ink .

“You fucked her all by your lonesome? You could’ve at least called us so we could join in.”

Should’ve known even a punch wouldn’t keep Andy quiet for long.

David and I both shoot daggers at him, annoyed. But it’s not just Andy I’m frustrated with.Didn’t we just talk about this the other day? About the problems we’ve been having thanks to that clip that popped up online?

“Isn’t this exactly how we ended up in that situation not too long ago?” I challenge David. “Come on, man. That’s against our contracts, too.” He might be our captain, technically outranking me, but this isn’t about rank. This is personal. And right about now? I have to question his judgment.

“Yeah, maybe,” David sighs, dragging a hand down his face.

This isn’t like him. Or, not the version of him we’ve had since we arrived in Denver.Out on the ice or in the stands, David is strictly discipline and control.

But back in the day? He was the hellraiser, the one who dared me to do the wildest, dumbest shit imaginable.

It helped pull me out of my shell, sure.

But it also got us into trouble more times than I can count.

Like that time we were sixteen and almost got arrested.

We were screwing around with fireworks and accidentally lit a fire down by the river bottoms. What we didn’t realize until later was that a propane factory sat just beyond that stretch.

If that fire had spread a football field farther, we could’ve blown the whole damn thing sky-high .

We were scared as shit. We peeled out of there in a panic, and a cop ended up pulling us over for erratic driving. He thought we were drunk, but we weren’t. We passed the breathalyzer and every sobriety test, but I was all over the road from sheer panic. Thankfully, he let us off with a warning.

We didn’t say a single word on the way home. And we’ve never talked about that afternoon since.

Maybe I should bring it up for old times’ sake. Some time. You know… just for shits and giggles.

“Look, bro. I don’t completely blame you. Leighton is one sexy woman, but…” I pause, trying to stay patient. “You can’t keep it up. You know that, right? Once is a mistake, an impulse even. Twice, three times? You’re just asking for trouble.”

“You don’t think I know that?” David snarls.

I throw my hands up in mock surrender. “I don’t know, man. You’re coworkers. All of us are. And that’s just another mess we don’t need right now.”

“There’s just something fucking undeniable about her,” he mutters, his foot tapping restlessly against the floor.

“Look, let’s drop it for now, all right? You won’t do it again, right?”

He nods.

“Good. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.” Our video has been buzzing around my brain like an annoying little wasp. I haven’t gone looking for the video, trying not to bump the views, but I can’t stop thinking about it .

“About the… other situation,” David says, “I keep going back and forth on it. Maybe the best action is not to take action. And let it die.”

I want to believe that. I’ve been trying to. But worst-case scenarios keep playing in my head like a broken reel.

Andy claps me on the shoulder. “I know. We can downvote it,” he says, eyes practically glowing. “Hit the thumbs down. That way, it won’t go viral.”

Technically, the algorithm does respond to negative votes. Views matter more, but maybe if we tank the engagement score, we can push the video down.

“One vote is not going to do much,” I remind them.

But David perks up. “Then we each vote individually. There’s no login on the site. Maybe we can vote multiple times.” He pulls out his phone to test the theory.

No luck.

But when he switches to his laptop, it works. Andy and I grab our phones and do the same. We make a plan to vote on every device we have access to. It’s only a few votes, but maybe it’s enough to knock the clip down a few spots. Bury it below the fold where it’s less likely to be seen.

“You’re a prick, Andy. But you have your moments.” I thump him on the back.

“I do, don’t I?” the bastard says, bouncing toward the door like he’s twenty again .

At thirty-nine, he’s the oldest of us. Watching him, I can’t help but wonder what I’m doing wrong in my own life.

“Also,” Andy calls back, “next time you cozy up to someone, David, let us in on it . We want a shot at that.”

It’s a dumb joke at the worst time. I like Andy, honestly, I do, but sometimes, he’s just so clueless. Half the things he says belong in the penalty box of his own damn brain.

I turn to David. “You know he’s out of line, right?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “But he’s not wrong about the website idea. We’ll check the site tomorrow, see if his little strategy actually works. And Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t plan on sleeping with her. It just happened, you know? I know my timing sucks. And I know the whole thing looks bad.”

I shake my head. “No harm done. Yet, at least. Unless you think she’s gonna tell the owner.”

“No. She wouldn’t do that. She touched me first, even if I started it.”

I frown, and that’s all it takes. He knows exactly what that look means. We both know messing around with staff is forbidden. But the same goes for her. She wouldn’t rat herself out. Would she? For what, though? It wouldn’t make sense.

Still… I get what he’s saying. There is something about her. A warmth, a quiet charm that sneaks up on you, disarming and effortless .

I’m not telling David, or Andy, or anyone else that I’ve been having vivid, explicit dreams about her. About us. About a foursome. That I like her. That I like the idea of all of us more.

I won’t even admit it out loud to myself.