“Inside, Hunter,” I said, keeping my voice even.
Behind us, the guards were already leading the girl away as she shrieked about censorship and jealousy, the words echoing off theconcrete walls. She looked ridiculous, but the knot in my stomach wouldn’t ease.
I turned to him, smoothing my blazer as if that could smooth out everything else. “Congratulations on the game,” I tried, hoping to pivot.
Hunter didn’t move. He stared at me, the damp curls at his temples dripping onto his collar. “Nope. You’re not changing the subject. What’s going on?”
“I said it’s nothing—”
He folded his arms across his chest, sweat-dark jersey bunching around his biceps. “Holly. Tell me.”
His voice had gone from curious to commanding, and I hated that it worked. My professionalism cracked around the edges, my mouth dry.
“Fine,” I said finally. “Bob told me there are rumors floating around. About us. That you and I are…” The words caught, ridiculous even as they left my mouth. “That we’re a couple.”
He looked at me like he hadn’t heard it right. “What?”
“It’s not an issue,” I blurted, tripping over my own assurances. “I’m handling it. Just focus on hockey. I’ve got this.”
My cheeks felt hot, my pulse out of sync. I’d never hated my own voice more than I did in that moment. For the first time since I’d taken this job, the lines between doing it and feeling it blurred.
Hunter’s stunned expression held for another beat and then, to my absolute horror, he laughed. A full, unguarded burst, echoing off the locker room tiles. “Wow,” he said, shaking his head. “Of all the crazy things I’ve heard…”
I tried to keep my face neutral. “I’m glad you find it amusing. But something like this could damage y–”
“I wouldn’t worry too much.” He stripped off his jersey in one smooth motion, tossing it toward a bench as the rest of the guys started filing in from the hallway. “Like I’d ever date someone likeyou.”
The words stung even over the sudden chaos around us. I swallowed hard and turned away, pretending to check my phone as laughter and conversation filled the room.
16
Hunter
“Pack it in, boys! Good practice. Looking sharp enough to shave my balls.” Coach’s bark ricocheted off the boards, and half the guys cracked up while the other half doubled over their sticks, sucking wind.
I let my glove dangle from one hand, flexing the other to ease the sting in my palm. Practice had been brutal, but good brutal. The kind that left sweat in your eyes and your heart still hammering in your ribs.
“Nice save spree, Callahan,” Mason called, flicking a puck at me. “You trying to make the rest of us look bad?”
“Not hard to do,” I said, batting it aside.
He flipped me off, grinning.
Coach blew the final whistle. “Hydrate, stretch, hit the showers. No injuries, no excuses.”
By the time I peeled off my pads, my head was still riding the rhythm of the drills. And then I saw her standing just outside the tunnel, tablet in one hand, the other tucked under her arm.
Holly. Waiting.
Even from here, she looked composed, all neat lines and quiet confidence that didn’t belong in a rink that smelled like sweat and rubber. Her gaze tracked me, quick, assessing. I couldn’t tell if she was checking in on my performance or counting down the minutes until she could scold me about something.
“Quit staring at your PR girl and hit the showers,” Theo muttered as he passed.
“She’s not—” I started, but he was already gone, laughing.
Yeah. No winning that argument.
Fifteen minutes later, I caught up to her in the hallway. She didn’t even look up when I approached, just said, “You took your time.”
