We settle on the couch, side by side. He scrolls through the streaming apps, indecisive, until I spot something familiar.
“Oh, we should watch that baking show,” I suggest. “A friend told me it’s really good.”
He smiles and presses play. The episode that starts is somewhere in the middle of the season.
“You’ve watched this before?” I ask.
“Aye. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I put this on.”
“Should we watch something else?”
He shakes his head. “No need, lass. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
I grin. “I might want to finish the baklava if I watch them make sweet things.”
He slides his arm around me and tugs me closer. “I might want to finishyouif I watch them make sweet things,” he murmurs against my ear, pressing a kiss to my neck.
Goosebumps scatter across my skin. I curl into him, my heart hammering. When I look up, he’s already watching me, and I kiss him softly. He smiles against my lips.
“I forgot to tell you,” I say, resting my cheek on his chest. “I talked to Liam this week, and I met your friends, Cormac and Aisling.”
“I heard.”
“I hope that was all right. They were so lovely, I didn’t even think to ask if it was okay first.”
“It’s quite all right, lass. They were rather smitten with you.”
“Really?” I tilt my head up, smiling.
“Aye. They think you’re a great catch.”
“Iama great catch, Roger Gallagher” I say, teasing as I shift against him.
He chuckles, low and warm. “Don’t I know it, lass. Don’t I know it.”
Chapter 30
It’s almost game time, and you canfeelit in the air. The stadium is buzzing with anticipation. Fans are already lining up outside, waiting for the doors to open, and the Miami team has just arrived. Everything is in place, everything is running on schedule, it’s going to be a successful day.
I’m at my desk, scheduling a few last posts that will go live within minutes: the lineup announcement, warm-up clips, player reels. Each one designed to dominate the feed. I hit schedule, close my laptop, and lean back in my chair, exhaling.
Then Emily bursts into the office, flustered.
“A bit of a change of plans,” she says, brushing a stray hair from her face. “The press conference has been moved to after the game.”
“What? Why?” I ask, straightening in my chair.
“I don’t know,” she huffs, clearly spiraling. “I was just told to adjust the time. Apparently, Rogue is going to make some kind of big announcement.”
“Isn’t the press conference supposed to be with—”
“Yes!” She throws her hands in the air. “That’s what I’m saying! What the hell is this about?”
My mind spins with possibilities, but Emily beats me to it. “He better not be about to announce he’s breaking his contract to go to Miami, because I willlose it.”
“No,” I say, too quickly. “He wouldn’t.”
Emily turns to me, her expression sharp. “Don’t be so naive, Catalina. Money is money.”
