“Any other questions?”
TWENTY-FOUR
Damon
I’m standingin the shadows, fighting a smile.
Amused by the confident way she shut down that asshole reporter with a smug smile I want to punch off his face.
A face that I recognize from somewhere, though I don’t know where.
I make a mental note to find out—mostly, so I can make sure the fucker’s press credentials are revoked.
Take that, asswipe. Joey embarrasses him on camera, and then I’ll take out the trash.
But aside from garbage reporters, I’m enjoying the show.
Because I’m fucking proud of her.
I sat in the box, watching the shit go down on the ice, wanting to rush down to rink level, to tear into the refs myself.
Joey had done that so I didn’t have to.
Same as Joey having the asshole interviewer by the balls.
No.Havingallof them by the balls.
I know it by her tart response, by the questions that follow—far less adversarial than before.
I know it by the way she ends the interview on her terms.
Thatta girl.
Turning, I start for the room she’s using for an office.
Storm is standing outside it, still in his skates and the bottom half of his gear.
“You good?” I ask as I approach.
His eyes slide to the side, searching the hall behind me and his expression falls, I presume because he doesn’t immediately spot Joey.
Damn.
The kid is going to be a problem.
“Just need to talk to Coach for a?—”
His gaze jerks behind me again, and I watch his eyes light up before I turn to see Joey walking our way.
Yup.
Fuck.
The kid isseriouslygoing to be a problem.
Joey’s eyes drift to mine then over to Storm. A moment later she glances back to me, asks softly, “We’ll talk on the plane?”
I nod. “My stuff will hold.”
