The doorbell chimed at exactly noon.
Griffin stood in my doorway. His biceps bulged below the short sleeves of a black T-shirt in a way that made my heartbeat quicken. He held a cold brew in one hand and extended a cup toward me with the other.
“Brought you this.”
I took the cup and immediately recognized the distinctive aroma. “Caramel latte. You remembered my order.”
“I remember everything about you,” Griffin said, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made the simple statement seem like a confession.
My cheeks heated. “Well, thank you.” I moved back to let him enter. “Come in.”
His eyes scanned my apartment with the kind of quick assessment athletes made on ice—reading the space, cataloging details.
“Welcome to my humble apartment.”
“It’s nice,” Griffin said, and sounded like he meant it. He stepped up to the bookshelves, and he tilted his head this way and that to read the eclectic collection of titles. “You have good taste in books.”
“Thanks. Though half of those are still unread. I keep buying them faster than I can finish them. You should see my Kindle library.” I chuckled.
“Same problem, different medium. I do that with podcasts.”
We settled at my dining table, which was small enough that our knees brushed underneath. Neither of us shifted away from the contact. The awareness of that small point of connection sent heat spreading through me, a warning I should have heeded but didn’t.
I spread out my laptop, tablet, and phone. “So,” I said, and pulled up my research notes. “The Portland chamber of commerce represents a mix of tech companies, retail, service industries, restaurants. They want to hear about leadership and teamwork, but from a practical perspective—not just sports metaphors, but actual applicable strategies.”
Griffin nodded and swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “What’s the tone? Inspirational? Educational?”
“Both. They invited you for the prestige of having an NHL captain speak, but they also want actionable takeaways.” I pulled up examples of previous speakers. “Last month, they had the CEO of a local tech startup. Month before, a leadership consultant. You’re their first professional athlete.”
“No pressure.”
“You’ll be great. You’re good at reading rooms and adjusting your message on the fly.” It was one thing I admired about him—that rare combination of strategic intelligence and genuine warmth that made people want to follow him.
I started typing as I talked, my brain already spinning possibilities. “I’m thinking we open with a story—something personal about your career that illustrates a leadership principle. Then transition to three main points about building effective teams. Close with a call to action that ties hockey culture to business culture.”
Griffin was quiet for a moment, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “You’ve already thought this through.”
“I may have done some preliminary outlining a week ago.” Heat crept up my neck. “I get excited about narrative structure. It’s kind of my thing.”
“It’s impressive,” Griffin said. “The way you think about these things. Like you can see five moves ahead.”
The compliment settled softly in my chest. “Comes from years of crisis management. You learn to anticipate problems before they become disasters.”
We fell into an easy rhythm after that—me suggesting angles, Griffin responding with stories from his career that might illustrate the points. His sandwich sat half eaten as he got caught up in the work, his focus absolute when something engaged his interest.
“What about talking about the expansion draft?” I suggested. “Building a team from scratch, players who didn’t choose to be here but are choosing to commit. That applies to business mergers or new divisions.”
Griffin’s expression shifted, and he grimaced slightly. “I could talk about that. Though it might hit too close to home—the whole ‘didn’t choose to be here’ thing.”
“Yes, I suppose you didn’t choose Portland.” I inwardly winced at my thoughtlessness.
“I chose to make it work after the Glaciers chose to trade me,” Griffin said carefully. “There’s a difference. But yeah, I can frame it as an opportunity rather than a setback.”
I typed notes, then looked up and caught Griffin watching me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. “What?”
“Working with you differs from other PR managers I’ve had. More collaborative, less managing.”
The words hung between us, weighted with meaning beyond professional cooperation. I should have deflected, should have kept things light and focused on the work.Instead, I said, “I like working with you. You’re one of the most genuine people I’ve met in professional sports.”
