Bennett: I went over my statement with Harbor
Tori: Good. But we should still run through it
Bennett: Is this a request? Or a demand?
Tori: Which do you prefer?
Bennett: Request
Tori: Fine. It’s a request
Bennett: When? I’m heading to arena in an hour
I hesitate. Meeting at the arena would be safer. The smarter move.
Tori: Now’s fine with me
Bennett: You know where I live
Okay. I guess we’re doing this right now.
I hit save on my document and shut my laptop. Smoothing my skirt, my stomach flutters.
Calm down.
This is a professional visit, nothing more.
Knox stands watch outside Bennett’s condo. He tips his chin in acknowledgement but says nothing.
I knock on the door and wait, heat blooming in my chest, heart racing.
Bennett cracks the door open and walks away without a word.
Three days and he looks exactly the same. Impossibly tall, light scruff, soft curls flopping over his forehead. Dress pants and a tight white T-shirt that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders, the veins popping in his forearms.
With a quick breath, I shove inside, trying to remain calm and professional. He avoids my gaze.
Unlike the other night, his place is tidy. No dishes in the sink or half-drunk protein shakes on the counter. His gear’s stacked neatly by the door, ready to go. Sunlight’s streaming through the open windows and classical music drifts through the air.
“You look ready.”
“I’m fine. Going through my pre-game routine.”
“I didn’t take you for a classical music guy.”
“Calms the nerves. Helps me loosen up.”
“Right.”
He folds his arms over his broad chest. “What do you want to practice?”
My mind jolts back to the elevator. His arms flexing against me, his smell invading my senses. Those full lips moving on mine.
A hot blush stains my cheeks and I fiddle with my necklace.
“I…um…the press. What did Harbor tell you to say?”
He shrugs. “The bare minimum. I took responsibility for my actions. I’m focused on hockey and my teammates. I respect the league’s process. Shit like that.”
