The conversation shifts to Tahiti and how turquoise the lagoon is there. And just when I think I’m out of the woods, Miles opens his mouth again.
“And are you still pretending you aren’t dating, or that you guys are not even friends, or is that ridiculous charade finally over?”
“Stop it,” I say, though my cheeks are searing with heat. “I told you, we’re not dating. We’re just hanging out. She’s alone here in DC and, well, you all have your wives anyway.”
“How’s that different from New York?” Beaumont asks, tapping his stick against the floor.
I throw him a warning glare, but luckily, I’m saved from answering when Coach Sully Paul enters the room.
Truth is, there’s no difference between now and when we’re home. Even if I like the girls, it does feel lonely sometimes being the only single guy. And I can’t deny that I wish I had someone too.
Really, the only change is that now, thatsomeonelooks like a feisty investigative journalist.
Harper texts me that she arrived at the arena, and I meet her near the VIP entrance.
“Hey,” I say as soon as I spot her. “I need to talk to you.” She scrunches her eyebrows in confusion, but before she can ask what’s going on, I take her by the arm, guiding her toward a quieter corner away from the flow of the crowd.
“What, no teasing me about my outfit?” She twirls a little.
Stopping, I really look at her for the first time. I was so caught up in this whole thing, I didn’t notice she’s wearing my jersey. Number two has never looked as hot as it does slapped on her back. I swallow hard. Even if it’s not my usual New York jersey—and she’s definitely not my girlfriend—it still kickstarts a frantic dance in my stomach.
She arches an eyebrow. “Well?”
I clear my throat, grinning despite myself. “Looks like you have a favorite player.”
“No, I have a player who forced me to come here wearing his jersey,” she says, jabbing a finger at my chest.
I catch her hand before she can pull it back. “As if anyone could force you to do anything.”
Her smirk falters, just the faintest shift, as our eyes meet. We stay like that for what feels like forever—her hand in mine, the roaring clamor of the arena fading into the background. I’m painfully aware of how close she is, how easily she could step away, and how much I don’t want her to.
“Um,” she says finally, taking her hand back. “So, why did you summon me here? I have a hockey game to attend, you know.”
“Right.” I shake my head, forcing myself back into focus. “Do you know who I saw in front of the hotel earlier? In the backseat of a black sedan with tinted windows, like some kind of mafia boss?”
She glances at the floor, then back at me. “No, who?”
“The guy from last night.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Who?”
“Harper, don’t lie to me. I got a vibe about that guy, and now he’s hanging out in front of our hotel? That can’t be a coincidence.”
She shrugs, wiping nonexistent dirt off her pants and avoiding my eyes. “He’s probably looking for a room.”
I blow out a breath. “Do you really think I’m that dumb?”
She levels me with a stare, chin lifting slightly, but I’m not backing down. Finally, she exhales, her shoulders dropping.
“Fine. Yes, I agree it’s pretty weird. But anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it. Just focus on your game.”
“There’s more going on here, I know it. Tell me what it’s all about,” I say quietly. “Please.”
She darts her eyes back and forth, scanning the corridor, probably to make sure we’re not being overheard.
“Remember when I said one of my exes went to prison?” she asks in a low voice, and my blood runs cold. “Well, that was him yesterday. Victor Pike. And side note, I’m the one who put him behind bars.”
Scratch that. All the blood just drained from my body. “What?”
