Hell.She was the fire department.
And me? I was skating harder. Faster. Sharper.
Because for the first time in my entire career, it felt like I had more than a team to play for.
I had her watching.
She hadn’t come downafter drills.
Not that I blamed her, between the Rylan mess and the playoff push, her day had probably turned into a twelve-alarm fire by noon. However, once I’d showered, I couldn’t help myself.
I ducked out, grabbed a bag of snacks—real food, not vending machine garbage—and circled back to the office tower attached to the arena. I knew the code to the PR suite. She’d given it to us the night before like it hadn’t meant anything, but I’d kind of had it before.
It meant everything now.
The hallway outside her office was quiet. Too quiet, considering the chaos behind the headlines. Her door was cracked, and I could hear her voice—low, steady, razor-sharp.
“…you can quote that, but only if you include the statement about league policy. I’m not interested in speculation—only facts. If your editor needs more, I’ll issue a release. Otherwise, we’re done here.”
Click.
I leaned on the frame, just outside the line of her vision.
Wren was at her desk, still in that branded black jacket with the Howlers crest, her hair swept back, tablet on one side, laptop on the other, a half-drained bottle of sparkling water beside it all. Her phone buzzed again and she picked it up without missing a beat.
“Amber, I said no comments from players. If we let anyone speak on the Rylan situation, it turns into a gossip war. He’s not worth the airtime.” A pause. “Yes, I said that on the record.”
Ilovedwatching her work.
It wasn’t just the way she handled pressure, it was how shewieldedit. Like every fire she walked into just gave her another excuse to pull off something impossible.
When she finally ended the call and leaned back in her chair, rubbing at the bridge of her nose, I took that as my cue.
“You ever stop to breathe, or is that only an end-of-season perk?” I asked, stepping inside and holding up the bag.
She jumped. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear you verbally neuter three reporters and a network flunky. Impressive. I brought bribes.”
Her expression warmed instantly, even if her posture stayed tense. “Snacks?”
“Snackoffering,” I said, tossing the bag onto her desk. “Protein bars, chocolate-covered almonds, and trail mix. Grown-up gas station cuisine.”
She cracked a smile. “You really do know how to charm a girl.”
I stepped closer, pretending to study the headlines still pulled up on her monitor. Most were some flavor ofVultures deny tamperingorRylan frozen out in scandal storm. But one caught my eye.
“PR Director Wren Foster Fans the Flames with Silent Strategy”
I let out a low whistle. “You’re getting your own coverage now?”
“Yeah,” she muttered, turning the screen away like I might read too much into it. “Because being competent apparently means I’m secretly negotiating all backroom deals.”
“Hey,” I said, nudging the screen gently back. “They’re not calling youthe problem. They’re calling you the one with teeth.”
Wren gave me a look. “You think that’s a good thing?”
“Oh, honey,” I said, grinning, “I think that’s thesexiestthing.”
