I smile at my computer.Very good,I respond, and I can practically sense her satisfaction through the hotel room walls.
CHAPTER 35
JORDAN
When I stepon the plane to head home after our away game trip, something is off.
Players look away pointedly when I walk down the aisle with my carry-on.
We don’t fill the entire plane, normally, so a lot of people get seats to themselves. Today, every seat is taken. Not by players, though.
By... stuff. Bags that should be in the cargo hold beneath the plane. Hockey gear. Guys taking up two seats, already asleep.
There’s nowhere for me to sit. My eyes narrow.
“Walker.” I nudge his shoulder. He’s sitting in the nearest aisle seat, stretched out with his ball cap pulled low over his closed eyes. The window seat has his hockey gear bag on it. “Move your bag.”
He doesn’t move.
“Rookie.” I give his face a few light slaps, and I swear his mouth tightens like he’s trying not to smile. “Are you pretending to be asleep?”
“No,” he says.
“Ah!” I poke him in the ribs and he starts laughing. “You are. Move your bag, I’m going to sit there. You can practice your flirting skills with me on the flight.”
He makes a low snoring noise that is totally fucking fake.
“Hey, Jordan.” Rory appears with a big smile. “What’s the problem?”
“There’s no empty seats and the Rookie is pretending to be asleep.”
He makes a sympathetic noise and nods. “He’s tuckered out from the game last night. We all are.” He gestures around to a bunch of guys taking up two seats.
“Volkov.” In a nearby seat, Alexei looks tense and uncomfortable. Even more than normal. His gaze flicks to me, startled, before going back to his screen. “Move your bag.”
“Can’t.” He keeps his eyes forward on the screen.
“Why not?” I’m getting frustrated.
“There’s a present for Georgia in there. I have to keep it safe.” His voice is tight and strange, and he won’t look me in the eye.
Like he’slying.
“What is it?” I raise my eyebrows, stepping closer, lasering his face with my eyes.
He pauses. “Flowers,” he mumbles.
No. His mother is a florist, and he would rather die than put flowers in his bag and risk crushing them.
“What kind?”
His eyes dart to mine, then away.
I point a finger at him. “Liar.”
“Okay, now.” Rory gently steers me away. “Jordan, there’s a seat back there.” He points a few rows back. “Next to Coach.”
The bad feeling in my stomach flips as people glance over at me. Rory’s eyes sparkle. I think I know what’s happening here.
