Naomi turns toward him, blue eyes bright, expectant. “You agree?”
He gives a noncommittal shrug and says nothing, staring at the screen. Silence is safer. He needs his focus, needs the sharp edge of it, and letting her in—letting anything in—risks dulling it.
But the silence drags. Her foot starts tapping. Light, rapid. Irritated.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her smile falter at its edges. “Ooookay, on that note.” She reaches down and squeezes Jesse’s arm.
Garrett feels his eyes narrow, annoyed. Flirting doesn’t belong in the tape room.
“I’ve got to finish organizing for the kiddos, guys. See you tonight.”
She walks out. Garrett doesn’t watch her go. Doesn’t notice thedelicious curve of her ass in her tight skirt or the way her ponytail swings over her shoulder.
Not technically.
Jesse spins in his seat to face him, wide-eyed. “Dude,” he says, dragging the word out. “What’s your deal?”
He shrugs, irritated. “What?”
“You wereglaring.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Bro,” Carter chimes in from behind them, still sprawled across a chair arm. Garrett had forgotten he was there. “You looked like a cat watching a Roomba for the first time. Suspicious and slightly aroused.”
“She’s loud,” Garrett mutters.
“She’s hot,” Jesse counters.
“She’s distracting.”
“Yeah, that’s what hot means.”
“She’s kind of spicy, actually,” Carter offers, sounding delighted. “I like it.”
Garrett exhales through his nose, wishing he could mute this conversation the same way he can mute the TV. “Watch the tape.”
He hits play and the footage rolls again, but his focus doesn’t follow. It’s halfway down the hall, tracking the click of heels and the smell of peppermint to the woman who’s somehow crawled under his skin without permission.
She’d smiled at Jesse. Everyone always smiles at Jesse. But the way she did it was different. Not like he’s harmless, but like he’s good. And Jesse is good—loyal, a good teammate, someone who respects tape room silence and doesn’t mess with other people’s lockers.
He doesn’t blame her for liking him. But he hated the peculiar, suffocating feeling in his chest when he watched them together.
He rewinds the clip. Watches the backdoor play unfold again.
Same players. Same movements. Same setup.
He presses pause.
The Storm doesn’t look dangerous anymore.
They look predictable.
He knows how to shut it down.
But this weird tightness in his chest? Still unsolved.
CHAPTER 5
