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Simone
Areceptionist sitsinside the lobby of the arena’s executive suite. It’s only the second time I’ve been to the facility, the first being the game day before yesterday. Brienne had directed me to where I’d catch an elevator up to the top floor where double wooden doors lead into the inner sanctum of the higher-ups who run this organization.
A pretty young blond looks up from surfing her phone. Her desk is immaculate and there’s no computer. I wonder if her only purpose is to greet people or answer the phone. She smiles brightly. “You must be Simone Turner. Ms. Norcross told me you’d be coming in to see her for lunch.”
I’m surprised she knows that, given she has no apparent appointment calendar on her spotless desk, but I nod. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Follow me,” she chirps as she stands.
I’m treated to a short tour as she points out various offices and conference rooms. We happen to walk by one office where I see Jenna at a desk, talking on the phone. She’s a media liaison for the team.
Jenna sees me and waves with a bright smile. I wave back and continue, following the receptionist to a corner office.
The brass nameplate says Adam Norcross and I assume this must have been Brienne’s brother’s office. He died in the crash and she took over the team. I bet it’s still hanging not because she hasn’t had time to change it out but because she has no intention of doing so. It’s an honorable nod to him and the work he did for the team.
The door is open and Brienne looks up to smile at me. The receptionist disappears and I’m motioned in as Brienne stands. “I’m so glad you could come over this way to have lunch with me.”
She moves from behind the desk and walks straight to me for a hug. “Thanks for making time,” I say as we pull apart.
“Come sit over here.” She motions to a table that seats four in the corner. It has two place settings with a platter of roasted chicken and vegetables along with a fruit tray. “I had this brought in. Hope it’s okay.”
“Looks incredible.” I look around the space as I move toward the table. “And your office is stunning.”
“It’s all Adam’s style,” she says as she plops down in a chair and immediately reaches for tongs to load up her plate. “I couldn’t bear to change it.”
It’s clearly a man’s office… pure masculine elegance with the Ohio River and the city skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s all dark woods and thick burgundy carpeting, heavy oil paintings in gilded frames.
Brienne hands me the tongs and I grab a chicken breast with roasted zucchini. I’m normally a healthy eater, but I suppose it’s more important now that I’m pregnant.
There’s a bottle of sparkling water along with a pitcher of iced tea. Brienne asks, “Which do you prefer?”
“The sparkling is great,” I say and watch as she pours us each a glass.
I have to say… I like that. Brienne could easily have had a waiter here serving our food and beverages but she’s such a grounded person, I can tell she’s one of those who would rather do it herself.
I take a moment to cut up all my chicken and vegetables while we talk about the game tonight. The team is in Atlanta playing the Sting but they’ll head back after.
“Do you go to many away games?” I ask.
She smiles as she plucks a green bean from her plate with her fingers. “Not so many since Drake and the boys moved in. I’m hanging back with them.” Smiling at me gently, she takes a bite of the veggie and points it at me while she chews. “I assume you’re not at the point where you can attend some of the away games.”
I shake my head, feeling glum about that observation. “No. Things aren’t going well and after the debacle the other night at Mario’s, Van would prefer I not come to any more games or events.”
“Oh, bullshit,” she snaps.
“Actually, I don’t know that he’s wrong.” I set my utensils down. “It’s why I wanted to come talk to you. I wanted to apologize for the way I acted at Mario’s. I made an ass of myself and I hope I didn’t embarrass you or the team. I know Van is horrified, but I wanted to assure you he’s a true professional. I don’t want my behavior to reflect poorly on him.”
Brienne drops the rest of the green bean on her plate and uses a linen napkin to wipe her fingers. Her stare is empathetic, but there’s an unyielding quality to her expression. “While I would prefer my hockey family not attack fans, it was defused quickly, thanks to your husband’s quick intervention. I’m not worried about what happened. I did want to make sure you were okay, though, not because I thought Van would hurt you. It’s clear he loves you a lot by just how idiotic this quest is for him to protect you from the history of his father. I wanted to make sure you were okay emotionally.”
I snort. “Not sure I’m ever going to be better emotionally. Van is testing my limits.”
“You’re not wearing him down yet?” she asks.
I consider how I provoked him into giving me an orgasm the other night, so assured that if we could at least connect physically, it would bridge the emotional.
I was wrong.
I shake my head. “He’s a stubborn man.”
