Bobby McDermott strolls over with his girlfriend Janie tucked under his arm. “Pretty bold to agree to something before your supervisor finishes her sentence.”
Janie laughs. “Bold or stupid. Hard to tell with hockey players.”
Gregory Mills nearly chokes on his drink. “Oh, it’s stupid. Big, shiny, neon stupid.”
Bryce shrugs, all maddening confidence. “Relax. It’s a harmless stage moment. PR gold.”
“PR gold?” I repeat. “Bryce, you once trended because you fell asleep in a Chipotle after a playoff game. You are not allowed to define PR gold.”
Dex raises his hand. “To be fair, that was iconic.”
Eli nods. “Honestly, one of his better moments.”
Bryce points at them. “Thank you. See? The people support me.”
“No,” Janie says sweetly. “They enjoy clowning you. It’s different.”
Gregory sips his drink. “So, Annabelle… what’s your move here? Gonna drag him offstage with a shepherd’s hook? Tackle him? Threaten him with paperwork?”
I open my mouth to fire back, but Bryce beats me to it, looking directly at me with that infuriating, sinful smirk.
“Careful,” he tells the guys. “She might.”
Dex leans in toward me. “Please do. I’d pay to watch it.”
I glare at all of them. “This is not a democracy. This is risk mitigation.”
Eli whistles. “Big words. She’s definitely mad.”
Bryce folds his arms, muscles flexing because of course they do. “C'mon Annabelle, you know this is harmless.”
I narrow my eyes. “Harmless isn’t a word I associate with you.”
“Oh, come on,” Mason says. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Bobby laughs. “Famous last words.”
Gregory lifts his drink toward Bryce. “Break a leg, lover boy. Preferably not literally. We need you functioning.”
Bryce tips his chin at me again like he has me exactly where he wants me.
He doesn’t.
He absolutely doesn’t.
But my pulse apparently didn’t get the memo.
The concert hasn’t even started.
And I am already losing control of the night.
Chapter six
Bryce
She’s jealous. She can deny it all she wants, but jealousy looks cute on her.
That’s the first thing in my head tonight. Not the crowd. Not the bass rattling the floor. Not the fact that I’m supposed to avoid creating PR nightmares.
