He doesn’t slow.He doesn’t even glance back.
Typical, I think, rolling my eyes.
“Hey!”I snap, jogging the last few steps until I plant myself right in front of him, blocking his path.
He stops then, all six-foot-something of brooding hockey player looming over me like a storm cloud.
“Go back to the locker room,” he mutters roughly.His green eyes cut into mine, sharp enough to make me shiver.“You shouldn’t be following me.”
“Why not?”I demand, tilting my chin up.My pride won’t let me shrink, not when every cell in my body is buzzing from being this close to him.“I’m just trying to do my job.”
He steps toward me, and I retreat, my back hitting the cool wall behind me.He leans down, close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath brush against my ear.
“You don’t want to get mixed up with me, sunshine.Stay away.”
The words are meant to be a warning, but the way he says “sunshine” like it’s a curse and a prayer all at once sends a wild thrill racing down my spine.My hands curl into fists to keep from grabbing him and doing something crazy like kissing him.
“Or else what?”I whisper, refusing to step away.
His jaw clenches.For a second, I swear he’s going to kiss me or devour me whole.His arm lifts, bracing on the wall beside my head, boxing me in.My pulse pounds in my throat, and I have to remind myself that I came here for an interview, not to melt into a puddle under Declan Hayes.
“Or else you’re going to regret it,” he says finally, the words ground out like they cost him.
“Regret what?”I shoot back.“Doing my job?Asking questions?Or standing up to the big, scary hockey player who thinks he gets to control the narrative and boss everyone around?”
His eyes flash with something dark and dangerous, but before he can answer—
“Hayes!”
I jolt, spinning toward the voice.Coach is standing down the hall, arms crossed, watching us like we’re two kids caught passing notes in class.His brow lifts as his gaze flicks between me and Declan’s very-much-invading-my-space stance.
“I was just… trying to get an interview,” I say quickly, holding my notepad up like it’s proof.
“Good idea,” Coach says dryly.His stare swings back to Declan.“Hayes, give her ten minutes.It might do you some good to actually talk.Be good for the team, too.”
Declan’s glare could cut steel.His whole body vibrates with tension, like he wants to argue, but the coach’s word is law.Finally, with a sharp exhale, he jerks his chin toward a side hallway.
“Fine.Ten minutes.”His voice is tight, clipped, like he’s being sentenced.Then his eyes cut to me, and my stomach flips at the promise in them.“But don’t say I didn’t warn you, sunshine.”
“Good.Set up a time.Right now, you need to get ready for practice.”
With that, Coach turns and heads back to the locker room.I watch him go and then look back at Declan.
My heart hammers as I stare up at him, notebook clutched tight to my chest.
“Tomorrow.Five o’clock at the Maple Creek Diner.Don’t be late,” he warns before he turns and heads back to the locker room, too.
I watch him go, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
This is what I wanted, an exclusive interview with Declan Hayes, a chance to prove myself.So why does it feel like stepping into the lion’s den?And why am I so excited about that?
Chapter Four
Declan
I don’t know why I agreed to this.I should have made up some excuse and bailed.
That thought rattles in my skull as I sit in the corner booth at Maple Creek Diner, my cap pulled low, hood up, shoulders hunched like I can disappear into the cracked vinyl seat.
