“You think that’ll work?”
“I think you just showed me why management made you captain,” I said, and meant it. “You understand that representing something bigger than yourself matters.”
Griffin’s smile was small but genuine, and an unexpected warmth tickled my gut.
“Okay, next item.” I opened my calendar app and scrolled through the packed schedule I’d been building. “Did you get the calendar of appearances I emailed you this morning?”
“Yeah, I looked through it. Seems busy.”
“It is busy.” I moved to the chair beside him so we could both see the tablet screen properly. “But every appearance is strategic.”
I handed him the tablet, and our fingers brushed as he took it from my hands. The contact lasted maybe a second longer than necessary, and Griffin’s eyes widened slightly, his pupils dilating just enough to be noticeable.
For a moment, the air between us felt charged with something I couldn’t quite name. Chemistry, attraction, possibility—whatever it was made my heart race and my professional composure waver.
Griffin’s reaction made me wonder if he might beattracted to men. I’d done my research into his life—media coverage, social media history. Nothing in Griffin’s background suggested anything other than a completely private personal life. No girlfriends mentioned in interviews, no red-carpet appearances with a date, no social media posts with romantic interests. Which could mean he was very private, or very discreet, or…
Or nothing at all. Professional athletes guarded their personal lives carefully, and Griffin seemed like the type who’d keep romance completely separate from his public image regardless of gender.
More’s the pity, because sitting this close to him, catching the subtle, fresh scent of his body wash mixed with coffee, watching the way afternoon light caught the silver flecks in his blue eyes… I was definitely attracted. Had been since the moment we’d met, if I was being honest with myself. But my draw to him was just wishful thinking.
“So.” I forced myself to focus on the screen instead of the way his forearm muscles flexed as he scrolled through the calendar. “Chamber of commerce luncheon, charity events, community appearances. The goal is to make you Portland’s hockey ambassador, not just the team captain.”
Griffin nodded, studying the schedule. “This is a lot of non-playing time.”
“Welcome to being the face of a franchise. But look at the impact potential—youth hockey clinics can inspire the next generation of Portland players. Hospital visits show you care about the community beyond the arena. Corporate sponsor events keep the money flowing that pays everyone’s salaries.”
He looked up from the tablet, meeting my eyes. “You really think all this matters?”
“I think,” I said, suddenly very aware of how close wewere sitting. “That Portland is watching to see if you’re here just to play hockey or if you’re here to build something lasting. These appearances tell that story.”
We spent the next hour going through each category of events. I explained the talking points for hospital visits—focus on the kids, not the cameras. For charity events, emphasize community partnership over individual heroics. For corporate appearances, balance accessibility with the gravitas that made sponsors feel their money was well spent.
“What about social media?” Griffin scrolled through my recommendations on frequency and content of posts.
“Authentic but professional. Behind-the-scenes practice footage, community event highlights, maybe some Portland exploration posts to show you’re embracing the city. Nothing too personal, nothing controversial. I can help you with social media.”
“And if Boucher posts something else?”
“All crisis communication goes through me,” I said firmly. “You don’t respond to anything without running it past me first. We control the narrative, not the other way around.”
Griffin nodded approvingly. “How are things looking from a PR perspective? Any other issues I should know about?”
I paused and studied his expression. “How are things going with the team? Honestly?”
“Really well,” he said without hesitation. “We’re building rapport. Team chemistry is building.”
It was the perfect captain answer—positive, confident, team-focused. But something in his tone made me wonder if he was telling me what he thought I wanted to hear rather than the complete truth. Griffin struck me as someone who’d rather project competence than admit vulnerability, whichwas both admirable and potentially problematic from a PR standpoint. If there were real issues brewing with team chemistry or player conflicts, I needed to know about them before they became public disasters—getting blindsided by locker room drama or teammate feuds was a PR manager’s worst nightmare.
“That’s great to hear,” I said, taking his comments at face value. For now.
Griffin glanced at his watch. “Anything else we need to cover?”
We’d covered everything on my agenda, and I had other work waiting back at the office. But I found myself reluctant to end the meeting, enjoying the easy conversation and the way Griffin’s guard seemed to drop when we were away from the team facility.
“I think that covers the priorities.” I started packing my messenger bag. “But feel free to text me if questions come up. Or if you need to bounce ideas off someone.”
“I will.” Griffin stood and extended his hand for a handshake. “Thanks for taking the time to walk through all this. It helps to have someone who understands the bigger picture.”
