She’d chosen wrong.
“There’s my favorite Stingrays department,” he said, when they approached. Benny rolled his eyes as Roger chuckled. McKenna looked leery, which bothered him a lot.
“Wanted to walk in with my girlfriend.” Tank moved toward McKenna, leaving the other two men no choice but to take a step away as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tucking her close.
“Tank,” McKenna said softly. “That’s not appropriate at work.”
Benny nodded. “She’s right. Although,” he leaned closer, his voice lower, “you two should probably sit together. The more people who notice and start talking about you as a couple, the better.”
Tank smiled when Benny gave him the green light he’d been waiting for. He lowered his arm but didn’t step away, worried she’d take off running if he gave her the opportunity. He placed his hand lightly on her lower back, guiding her into the room.
The conference room was the one the team used for press conferences, so it had auditorium-style seating. Today’s meeting had been called by HR, so McKenna wasn’t required to stand in the front with the presenters. Instead, she could sit with him.
He led her to two free seats near the rear of the room. McKenna sighed but sat without argument.
Kendra Kingsolver, the head of HR, called the meeting to order, clicking on the mouse to begin what was sure to be a mind-numbingly boring slideshow.
McKenna shifted uncomfortably in her seat after a minute or two, when he started toying with one of her Mouseketeer buns.
“Tank,” she murmured under her breath, chastising him for staring at her and not listening to a word being said.
He leaned toward her. “You can run, but you can’t hide,” he whispered, enjoying the way she blushed.
He’d missed her this week, dammit. And not because he was dying to get her back into bed—which he was—but because she added a brand of fun to his days that he’d never experienced.
“I’m not running,” she murmured back.
Tank sighed softly. “Bullshit. You realize we can’t sell the girlfriend thing if you keep avoiding me.”
McKenna narrowed her eyes, never failing to respond to his challenges.
If the only way to get her to hang out with him was to perpetuate the fake relationship, he’d pretend his ass off right into old age with her.
“Listen,” she whispered.
“Something you’d like to share with the class, Tank?” Coach Fields said loudly, calling him out. The man had it out for Tank these days, and he just couldn’t figure out why.
“No, Coach,” he said, turning his attention back to Kendra, who continued the presentation.
McKenna bit her lower lip, face flushed, and her leg bounced nervously until he reached over, placing his hand on her knee.
She glanced at him, then sighed, settling down.
When he flipped his hand over, wiggling his fingers, she gave him a half grin, then slipped her fingers through his, allowing him to hold her hand.
It was ridiculous how fucking happy that simple concession made Tank. The two of them kept their attention on the screen, but Tank doubted McKenna was hearing much more than he was. Instead, he was focused solely on her, enjoying the delicate scent of her perfume, the soft skin of her hand, the feeling of his knee pressed tight to her thigh. He even matched his breathing to hers.
When the meeting was finally over, the two of them stood. McKenna tried to reclaim her hand, now that they were no longer shielded by their seated positions, but he held on tight.
Several of his friends gave him knowing grins. McKenna’s presence in the team box, as well as the way the two of them were always together nowadays, hadn’t gone unnoticed by his buddies. It was just a matter of time before Blake or Victor pulled him aside to ask what the hell was going on. He was sort of surprised Blake—the nosy ass—had held off this long, but he figured the fact they were fighting their asses off to land a wildcard spot in the playoffs, combined with Blake always racing back home to Erika and their beloved, spoiled puppy, Corky, was working in Tank’s favor.
So far, he’d only said that he and McKenna were testing the waters, and they’d gone out on a few dates. As things progressed, his friends were going to want more details. Because Tank didn’t date. Ever.
“Some of the gang are going out for dinner,” Rook said, pointedly grinning at their linked hands as they walked out of the conference room, all of them headed out of the building.
“Where are you going?” McKenna asked, obviously spying a way to escape him.
“No clue yet. We’re meeting in the parking lot to decide. I think Kostya’s hoping to talk everyone into Moe’s for seafood.”
