“Finnegan?”
My attention is pulled back to the present, where I’m sitting beside Kol and Cas at the media table in front of a room full of reporters after our game tonight. I shouldn’t even have my phone on me.
I never let myself get distracted from my responsibilities, but she has me throwing caution to the wind lately.
Fuck. What was the question?
I rack my brain for the answer but fall short. I’m being so unprofessional, and I’m sure my coach will ream me for it later, unaware that he’ll be scolding me for watching his daughter.
“Bates isn’t feeling great right now.” Casper speaks clearly into the microphone. “You may have to repeat yourself for Sicky over here.”
Everyone chuckles lightly, and I kick Casper’s foot under the table. He grunts in response, a playful smirk on his lips.
The reporter repeats himself. “You guys have managed to stay hot through the season. You started strong and have only gotten better. Your team is on a sixteen-game win streak after tonight. One win away from tying the record for the entire league. So …” He trails off with a smile. “Are you guys going to beat it?”
The corners of my lips tip up, and my brain automatically shifts into PR mode, answers forming on my lips from the countless media training meetings I’ve had—the same ones all pro hockey players have had.
I know how Ishouldanswer. I know what the PR team would want me to say … but instead, I grab the mic and lean forward, resting my arms on the linen cloth covering the six-foot-long table. “We’re not going to stop there. Beating the record is only the beginning.”
Cas chuckles next to me. “All right, all right. Let’s not jinx anything now.”
I shrug and hold my hands up in surrender before winking. “Just a fact.”
“Next question,” someone in the wings mutters, and the room’s attention shifts to a different individual in a suit, holding a recorder in their hand.
“Casper …” A reporter addresses him.
I tune out the question after I hear it’s not directed my way, and I take the reprieve to check on Serena.
Leaning back in my chair, I peek at my phone beneath the table. I have to swipe through a few screens to find the right room she’s in, but eventually, I do.
It takes me a moment to realize what I’m looking at. She’s with Kerrigan in one of the conference rooms, which is decorated in every hue of pink and red, complete with twinkling lights and candles.
Serena’s speaking to a guy—who, might I add, is standingfar too closeto her for my liking. His body’s relaxed as he smiles down at her, his lips moving with eagerness.
For fuck’s sake, I can practically see the shine in his eyes from here—a sparkle I’d like to permanently erase if he keeps it up.
She’s not encouraging the interaction—at least not in the way he’s hoping. Her posture is strong, her smile professional. She’s simply doing her job, and he’s taking advantage of her kindness.
Maybe they know each other or are old friends.
I ponder the thought for a moment beforerealizing that I couldn’t care less if they’repals. He doesn’t get to look at her like that. He doesn’t get to lean forward when he laughs, desperate to close the gap between them. He certainly isn’t allowed to sneak a glance at her ass when she turns to answer someone.
Old friend or not, I’ma single touch on her shoulderaway from storming out of this interview, consequences be damned.
Glancing up, smiling, and nodding, I find the clock at the back of the room. The interview’s almost over anyway—only five minutes left. I can show enough restraint to do my job. If not for me, then for my boys and my future father-in-law.
Until then, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind, watching this guy hit on her.
An idea sparks, and initially, I ignore it. But as the seconds tick by and the guy continues to smile and flirt with Serena, my resolve quickly fades.
I’m swiping out of the app before I realize it, the live feed minimizing to a smaller, movable screen as I open the message app.
She doesn’t know I have her phone number or that I’ve spent hours typing and deleting messages to her over the past month. But after our last encounter, I know a text won’t scare her off. If anything, it’ll just stir the coals of our fire.
If he smiles at you again, I’m storming in there and dragging you away from the party.
She should see it almost immediately. Her phone is in her hand. But the two-second delay is eating me alive.
