She looks directly at me when she saysyou.
My jaw clenches. I don't blink. Don't react.
Fuck.
She keeps talking, going through some ideas and fuck, she's good. Competent. The way she's laying out data points and engagement strategies… it's like she's been doing this for a decade.
Didn't she just walk in the door?! How the hell is she this good at her job already?
I don't want her to be good.
I want her to be unqualified. To be in over her head. Someone Colin will replace in two weeks so I can go back to my easy fucking life.
But no.
She's sitting there in that fucking shirt, talking about 'brand synergy' and 'community integration,' and all I can think about is how good her tits looked bouncing in the moonlight.
"Social media is our biggest untapped weapon," she continues, her gaze sweeping the table. She’s in her element now, and it’s irritating as hell. "I've been scrolling the channels for days. Instagram. TikTok. It's all empty. We need player spotlights, behind-the-scenes content, TikTok challenges—"
"TikTok?" Beck perks up. "Oh, hell yeah. I've been waiting for someone to unlock my dancing potential."
Mason groans. "Please, God, no."
Josie’s lips twitch. "Yes, TikTok. Don't look at me like that, Mason. It's where the eyeballs are. We need to meet fans where they are, not where wewishthey were."
Coach Pearson grunts from his seat, arms crossed over his massive chest. "I don't know what a TikTok is, and I don't wanna know. Just tell me it doesn't interfere with practice."
"It won't," Josie promises, her tone respectful. "It's about capturing moments within the team. The work we do. The grind we put in. The personality of everyone who they can cheer for, week in, week out." Her eyes flick to me again. "People connect with people, not logos."
"And one top of that," she says, turning to a laptop she’s pulled up, displaying a sleek presentation. "We start engaging in youth clinics. Charity events. Player appearances at local businesses. People need to see you as part of Beachside, not just visitors passing through."
Coach Pearson gives a slow, approving nod. "Kids' clinics. I like that. Get 'em on skates early. Filter them into the academy."
"Exactly," Josie says, a genuine smile breaking through.Damn.It's fucking devastating, too. "And lastly: media accessibility. Like it or not, you boys are the brand. So we need you available at all times. Interviews, podcasts, local TV spots. You will become unavoidable."
Unavoidable.
Is she kidding?!
I came here to beavoidable. That was the whole point.
No media circus. No brand-building. No city's hopes and dreams crushing my shoulders. Just hockey, the beach, and the mansion.
And now this woman is standing there telling me I have to do the exact opposite?
Fuck this.
Beck leans back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "I love it. Community engagement? Youth clinics? Count me in. I'm great with kids."
Mason doesn't look up from his notes. "You are absolutely not great with kids."
"I'mfunwith kids," Beck corrects, grinning. "There's a difference." He shifts his gaze to me, those blue eyes sparkling with pure mischief. "What do you think, Cap? You down to be unavoidable?"
The entire room waits for my captain's opinion. It should hold weight in a room like this. Itusedto. Back when I held the power and control of this organization.
But now, I can feel the walls closing in. TikTok. Charity events. Media tours.
It's every single thing I came here to avoid, laid out like a roadmap straight to hell.
