The most dangerous photograph I’ve ever taken is the one I knew I shouldn’t keep. I kept it anyway. His name is Evan McKinney. NHL shutdown defenseman. Contract year. A man who treats every camera like a weapon. I’m the woman aiming it at him. I’ve photographed athletes on four continents. I shoot fast, alone, and I never miss. I’ve also made a career out of leaving first. I trusted a man once. It almost cost me my name. After that, I rebuilt the only way I knew how. Eight-week contracts. Clean exits. No attachments. He’s not supposed to get under my skin. But then he steps onto empty ice at five in the morning, moving like the rink is the only place he can breathe. He hands a kid in an oversized jersey his game stick and disappears before anyone sees. His control breaks for half a second in a crowded room, and he doesn’t know I’m watching. That’s when I take the photograph I shouldn’t. The one I stay for. The one that costs me everything I rebuilt. A slow-burn, dual-POV hockey romance featuring forced proximity, workplace tension, grumpy-sunshine chemistry, contract-year stakes, open-door heat, and a hard-won HEA. For readers of Liz Tomforde and Becka Mack. Seven men. One season. The women who saw them clearly. Book two in The Stampede series.