Page 34 of Broken As Puck

I returned to the camera and took a couple of photos, but he was too stiff. “Could you maybe drop your shoulders a little? Try to smile?”

He bared his teeth. I think it was meant to be a smile, but holy hell, it didn’t come across well.

All of a sudden, Matt was there, taking the fox from Drew and smooshing it to the side of his own face, grinning at the camera.

“Like this,” he said, holding still for long enough for me to capture the moment before cradling the fox in his arms and then pretending to high-five it. “You’ve got to really get into it.”

He passed the fox back to Drew, whose movements were a bit looser as he tucked the fox under his arm and smiled more naturally. I let him off the hook as soon as I had one useable photo and waved him on, flicking Matt a quick glance as he departed.

“Thanks.”

He beamed. “No problem. We’ve all got to do our part.”

“My turn!” Jesse sidled into the spot where Drew had been, bringing the Labrador cross with him. I disconnected my camera from the tripod and swapped it with the office camera. The tripod was proving less useful than I’d hoped because of how much the animals moved around. It would be easier for me to just take photos by hand.

As I photographed Jesse, I thanked the hockey gods that he was so photogenic and good with dogs. I’d be surprised if these photos didn’t have the Labrador rehomed within days.

I pursed my lips as a possibility occurred to me. After we’d run our social media campaign for the shelter, we could reuse the best of these photos for a calendar to raise additional funds. There were only three months left of the year, so people would be buying calendars in the near future. I’d have to discuss it with Stella.

Jesse leaned over and grabbed the fox plushie from me, then sandwiched it between him and the dog. “This little guy looks like a Frankie. What do you think, Chels? Frankie the fox?”

I snapped photos because, honestly, he was doing my job for me. “I love that. You should tell Coach.” He’d be glad to hear that his players were taking ownership of their new mascot.

“I will.” Sitting up and propping the plushie on his lap, Jesse beckoned me. “Come over here, Chelsey. You should get some doggy cuddles too.”

“I’m supposed to be behind the camera,” I reminded him.

He pouted. “Just a few pets? Look at his little face. How can you resist?”

I looked at the dog’s face, which was just as adorable as Jesse’s, and sighed. “Only for a moment.”

I crossed over to them, dropped to my knees, and petted the dog vigorously. It—he, I could see now—wagged his tail and then rolled onto his back, baring his belly for rubs. Jesse edged away, but I didn’t look to see what he was up to as I indulged the dog, laughing when he made a weird groaning noise.

I heard a snick and glanced up to see Jesse behind the camera, Frankie the fox tucked under his arm, grinning mischievously.

“Smile,” he said and pressed the shutter button again.

I got up and hurried over, the dog trotting along at my heels. “Okay, that’s enough of that.”

I didn’t want Jesse touching any of the cameras. He seemed the sort who wouldn’t hesitate to mess with the settings.

“Everything is fine,” he assured me, clucking his tongue to draw the dog away as Matt moved in to take his place.

We cycled through different player-and-pet combinations. I did my best to ignore the way my heart beat a little faster each time it was Matt in front of the camera and focused on producing the best photographs I could instead.

I managed reasonably well up until Matt returned with the ugly smoosh-faced cat. No one else had been photographed with it yet. Nick had apparently tried and been scratched for his efforts. Viv had assured me that the cat wouldn’t seriously hurt anyone; he was just cranky and particular about who he let touch him.

It seemed that Matt met with his approval.

“Hold him against your chest,” I urged, zooming in. “Position him so I have a clear view of his eyes.”

He adjusted the cat, who happily rested his chin on his hand. Even from several yards away, I could hear the cat purring like a chainsaw. He sounded like he’d smoked a pack of cigarettes every day for the last five years. I took the photo and asked Matt to rearrange the cat again, cradling him like he was a baby.

Matt gazed down at the cat adoringly. The cat stared back with hearts in his googly eyes.

My own heart ka-thunked. How was I supposed to resist this?

I started to wave for Matt to move on, but to my absolute astonishment, he wrapped the cat around his neck like a scarf and the fuzzy thing just flopped there and gave a piercing meow.