His eyes light up, and I see the challenge in them.
Fantastic.
Just what I need.
His brother chuckles as Phillipe Odder—holyfuckingshit!—leans into the boards with a smirk on his face. They both are enjoying the show.
I love this for me.
“Oh, so you don’t like me?”
I give him a bored look and remind myself that his parents are right here. “I don’t know you.”
“Everyone knows me,” he says with a laugh.
“Not me,” I throw back. “And only a select few know me.” I look to his parents, ignoring his devastatingly gorgeous grin, and say, “You guys ready?”
“What are you meeting for?”
I can tell that Jayden doesn’t have time for his son’s bullshit by the look he shoots Dawson, but his mom has one hell of a soft spot for him. “Ambrosia here is taking over the announcing position for the boys’ games, but she also does the girls’, so we wanted to map out what this will look like.”
Dawson’s appreciative gaze falls to me. His eyes dance with mischief. He’s sizing me up, so I stand taller.Tetas afuera—tits out—as my mom andtíaalways tell me. “So, you know hockey?”
“A bit.”
“She also wants us on her podcast, so we’re going to discuss that too.”
Dawson seems a bit surprised by that. “A podcast too? Hockey one?”
I nod, and I really don’t want to talk to him, but I’m proud of what I’ve done. “Yes, I took overThe Rowe Reportwhen my dad passed.”
Recognition takes over his features. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I feel myself getting smaller, so I fight against the need to fold into myself. I hate that phrase, though.Sorry for your loss.Yeah, me too. Can you bring him back?
Swallowing past the emotion in my throat, I say, “Thank you.”
He looks at his parents now. “Going on to talk about the programs?”
Jayden squeezes Baylor into his side again. “Yes, and Ambrosia is also doing a new segment.”
“Not hockey?”
I bristle at his question, and I don’t know why. I really dislike the fact that something about this guy just gets under my skin. I hate the static I’m feeling. As if my skin has a billion little spiders crawling all along it and down my back.
Ugh, why can’t he have a snaggletooth?
I try to keep the annoyance of my reaction out of my voice. “Why would you assume it’s not hockey?”
He shrugs, a knowing little grin on his face that I want to smack off. “Just an assumption.”
I scoff, narrowing my eyes. “Well, you assume wrong, because it does have to do with hockey.” I clear my throat. “I am asking everyone if falling in love changed their game.”
Dawson pauses then lets out a bark of a laugh. A deep one, from his soul, it seems, which only makes me glare harder. When he notices no one is laughing, he swallows his amusement before giving his parents a look of disbelief. He then looks back at me, humor sparkling in his eyes. I want to poke him in his stupid, pretty eyes. “Only you are in control of your game.”
Gah, he’s such a jackass. Before I can call him that, though, his dad chimes in. “Sure, but having a person to lean on makes a huge difference. Your mother and I excelled because of each other.”
Dawson waves them off, shaking his head. “Because you two were rivals and wanted to be better than the other. Being in love doesn’t matter.”
