She scoffs. “Screw what Ashton says. You were the organizer of this event, so you deserve to be here for it. We’ll make sure you’re not seen. I promise.”
What on earth is happening right now? “Me reaching out was more of a ‘let’s get coffee’ type of thing, not a ‘let’s smuggle me into an event’ kind of deal.”
She laughs and holds the door open for me. “But isn’t this so much more fun?”
No. No, it isn’t.
Reaching out to a client’s wife is bad enough. Coming with her to an event I was strictly pulled from is worse. Way worse.
“I’m so screwed,” I whisper, following her when she shows no effort to stop.
She presses her fingers to her lips as we enter a hallway where people are talking in the distance. Then she looks both ways, waves me forward, and tugs me to keep pace with her as we jog toward a closed door at the end of the narrow corridor.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper, trying not to get caught. My heart is racing, and my hands are clammy as she releases my palm and reaches for the doorknob.
“Because,” she whispers back, “I love my husband. I want what’s best for him, so I’m going to do everything I can to make that happen.”
My brows pinch together.
She opens the door and says, “And he’s lonely too,” she concludes, pushing me inside the room and closing the door behind me as I tumble forward. I hear her fleeting giggle from the other side of the door.
“Whoa,” a gravelly voice says, before warm flesh smacks into me and strong hands appear at my biceps to steady my falling body.
When I look up, Thomas Moskins is standing shirtless in front of me in all of his six-pack ab glory.
“Hello there, sweetheart,” he all but purrs, those piercing blue-gray eyes looking down at me.
They’re rimmed with blue and nothing like I’ve ever seen before. Intense. Heated. Beautiful.
And despite my naivety with most men, I know for a fact they’re filled with interest.
I blink slowly.
Then blink again to make sure I’m seeing this right.
Because for the millionth time today, I ask myself what. The. Fuck?
CHAPTER TEN
Moskins
In all honesty,I have no clue what the hell is going on. But I’m also not about to complain when I feel the warm flesh of the petite blond against me as I steady her.
My mood has been shitty since getting here, when some seventy-year-old tried blowing smoke up my ass as if my appearance was his idea when we both know it wasn’t. One look at him, and I knew he’d never seen a game of hockey in his life. He probably thinks we have quarters and touchdowns, not periods and goals.
Ashton made me play nice, force a smile, and shake hands while the man, whose name I had no interest in remembering, told me all about the schedule. Probably to distract me from quizzing him on anything game-related, because there is no way in hell he knows who I am. I’m pretty sure the douchebag called me Timmy.
His prattling on about what to expect pissed me off more. It shouldn’t have been my manager or him telling me what to do and where to go; it should have been the woman currently standing in my arms.
“Hello there, sweetheart,” I purr, watching as her face grows crimson.
When Emaly told me she was on her way with a surprise, I’d been expecting a cup of coffee or something for breakfast since Ashton rushed me out the door before I could make something to eat. My stomach has been rumbling for the past two hours,and the meat stick Ashton produced from who knows where hardly did the trick to silence it.
Winter quickly straightens, putting space between us like my touch burns her.
Get in line, sweetheart.
“I don’t suppose you have a muffin or a cup of coffee, do you?” I ask, crossing my arms on my bare chest to cut some of the tension clearly coiled in her shoulders.
