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My heart stopped at his smile. He did it every time he talked about his daughter. And I was struck by the realization that I liked learning more about them…about him. There was an itch behind my ribcage to learn as much as he’d share. Even things I didn’t need to know to do this job.

“Do you miss playing?” The burning question tumbled out.

Monroe’s eyes pinched at the corners.

“I just mean, you’re clearly still fit enough to play.” I waved a hand up and down his body.

He studied his hands, mouth slightly pulled down.

My stomach dipped as the silence stretched on.

“I need you to say something, or I’ll try to keep filling the silence. And I’ve got to warn you, when I’m nervous, I say outrageous shit.”

A laugh rolled out of his lips, and my pulse stuttered at the deep, rich sound.

“I think you’re a goddamned liar, Trouble. There is no way you only say outrageous shit when you’re nervous. Because that would mean you’re nervous all the time, and I don’t buy that.”

“Oh, Monroe.” I drew on the top of the table with my finger, my cheeks heated at the nickname. “Nothing I’ve said so far has been outrageous.”

A smirk bloomed on his face, his slightly unkept hair moving as he shook his head. “How is it that you started working in PR when you’re a publicity nightmare waiting to happen?”

He was not wrong. Most days, I wondered the same thing.

I shrugged. “Started in sports marketing. Took whatever position they’d give me because I knew I could work my way up to where I wanted to be.”

Too bad that hadn’t panned out.

“Now, answer the question, Monroe,” I said, changing the subject before he started digging too deep.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked away. “It’s…it’s complicated.”

For a second, I thought that was all I was getting, but then he released a breath.

“I miss being out on the ice and playing in the sense that the sport is fun. The rush of chasing down the puck or slamming someone into the boards.” His mouth lifted. “I was good as a player, but I’m better as a coach.”

“I wish I could see you play.”

Didn’t mean to say that out loud.

His eyes cut back to me. “Why’s that?”

That was a good question. One I didn’t want to unpack, so naturally I responded with, “So I can watch you get your ass handed to you, old man.”

My chest tightened when another laugh slipped out.

“That’s two laughs from you in five minutes.” I grinned. “I knew you liked me.”

“I told you, you’re all right, Trouble.”

Damn if that didn’t feel like the highest of praise.

“Is that all the practice? Talk to me about cheese and ask about my glory days?” he asked, shifting in his seat.

Shit. I need to focus.

“No, that’s not it. We also need to talk about the article about you and Itzel. There’s going to be a photoshoot and a cute story about your relationship in a few weeks, and I have to send over the answers to some questions. Give me some ideas of romantic things you’d do for her.”

Monroe balked, his response coming out fast and an octave higher than normal. “Isn’t that your job? To make all this up about the relationship? How am I supposed to know what I’d do?”