“Dude could be bigger than you,” Butcher stated. “You never know.”
I shook my head as I continued to laugh. “How about I text you the location of where I’m meeting him and if I don’t make it to morning skate tomorrow, you report me missing?”
“The first forty-eight hours are crucial,” Orlov declared. “That won’t give us much time if we’re already several hours behind.” I stared at my friend and he lifted a shoulder. “What? I watch a lot of true crime.”
I rolled my eyes at how ridiculous everyone was acting. “I think I can handle myself, but I’ll text the group chat when I’m done. If you don’t hear from me intwohours, someone come check out the coffee shop.”
“Oh good. You’re meeting in a public place,” Orlov commended.
“We’re just fuckin’ with ya, Cap.” Butcher grinned. “Have a good time, okay?”
“Thanks.”
The bellabove the door jingled softly and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans hit me as I stepped inside. Scanning the cafe, my eyes searched for a red scarf. A guy at a corner table with his head down, who was engrossed in his phone, was wearing a red scarf.
As I approached, I couldn’t help but notice the Bruins cap he wore and I had to think he was doing it because he assumed I played for them. I cleared my throat, and he looked up from his phone. Our eyes met, and for a moment, there was a flicker of recognition on his face.
“I was right.” A smile played on his lips.
“Yeah.” I smirked. “And you must be Looking4Luv.”
“The one and only.” He chuckled, and stood, extending a hand for a handshake. I shook it.
“Wow, I didn’t expect you to be Emmett Cooper.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Absolutely not. I mean, I figured you played, but I didn’t know you’d beyou,” he exclaimed, excitement in his voice.
I let out a nervous laugh. I figured he’d recognize me, but something wasn’t sitting right with me. I couldn’t pinpoint it and the NDA I had in my back pocket was screaming at me to get this guy to sign it immediately. But I didn’t reach for it because we were just having coffee and what was the harm in that?
“Surprise?” I chuckled. “So, a mocha, huh?”
He nodded. “With whole milk, please.”
I went to the counter to order. As I returned to the table with our coffees, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this guy was off. He sat there, his smile seemed a bit too wide, his eyes holding mine a fraction longer than necessary. He appeared harmless, but my instincts were buzzing with unease.
“Thanks for the coffee,” he said. “I’m Tim, by the way.”
We made small talk about hockey, the weather, and the city, but there was an undertone in his words that sent shivers down my spine.
As the conversation continued, he reached into his bag and pulled out a neatly folded Bruins jersey. “I thought maybe you’d want to sign this for me,” he said, pushing it across the table toward me. “I brought it just in case.”
I forced a smile, taking the “Cooper” jersey and signing it. But the whole time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched too closely. Tim’s gaze lingered on my every move, and his questions became increasingly probing.
“So, Coop, what’s your routine like? Where do you live exactly?” he asked casually, as if we were still discussing the weather.
I raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling defensive. “Why do you want to know?”
He chuckled nervously, backtracking. “Oh, just curious, you know? I’m a big fan, wanted to get to know the man behind the game.”
I nodded, though my guard was up. The guy’s strange curiosity felt more like an invasion of privacy. I glanced around, wondering if anyone else in the cafe was noticing the strange encounter. “I’m in Boston, of course.”
“Oh, duh. I just?—”
“I need to hit the little boys’ room. I’ll be back.” I stood abruptly and made my way to the restroom in the back. As soon as I was behind the locked door, I sent Butcher a text.
Dude, you were right. I might be murdered tonight. Things aren’t going good. This guy is giving me the creeps. What do I do?
