The question lands like a stone in water, the ripples spreading outward. A few players exchange glances and one of them mutters, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.
Cole, a man worthy of the title of team captain, stands. “Talking to Henderson in his office.”
“More like getting spanked by Henderson,” Logan pipes in. “And not in the fun way.”
Sloane shoots him a biting look, then turns, signaling for me to do the same, but before we can leave the room, Cameron and Coach Henderson stalk in.
Cameron spots me right away and freezes, zeroing in on me. His hair’s damp with sweat and sticking up all over like he’s been running his hands through it. The hard glint in his eye would freak me the fuck out on anyone but him.
His expression cycles through surprise and confusion and then a look more complicated. One I can’t quite name. Whatever it is, there’s pain there, too.
The room goes quiet. Even the assistant coaches stop and turn, waiting to see what happens next.
The pressure of all the attention on us makes my skin prickle, but I force myself to ignore it all and stand taller. “Hey,” I say, the single word scraping out of me. I clear my throat and keep going. “Not to sound like a needyBachelorettecontestant or anything, but can I pull you aside for a quick chat? Then you can get back to kicking the Trailblazers’ asses.”
A few players clap and whoop at my compliment, and some of the strain in the air dissipates.
Cameron doesn’t move, though.
“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch your answer,” I say when he doesn’t respond. “It’s hard to hear over all that silent brooding you’re doing.”
“Don’t,” he finally says, voice low and grumbly in a way that turns me on despite the situation. “I’m not in the mood, Kennedy.”
“Well, I am, and since I’m a woman, and therefore always right, I think now is the best time to talk.”
A muscle twitches near his temple, his jaw going rigid. “No.”
“Fine.” I shrug, going for flippant when inside, I’m trembling. “Then I’m calling in my favor.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “Excuse me?”
“I’m. Calling. In. My. Favor,” I repeat, punctuating each word. “You know, the unspecified favor of my choosing to be redeemed at any point in time?” I arch a brow. “I’m calling it in. So you’re going to shut up and listen for the next five?—”
“Three,” Sloane cuts in.
“Three,” I agree with a nod at her, “minutes. Then you can go back to brooding in peace.”
A few of his teammates snicker, but I don’t take my eyes off Cameron to identify who.
He studies me, searching my face. For what, I don’t know. So I stay stock still despite feeling like prey about to be pounced on. He must find what he’s looking for, because after a moment, his face softens. The change is subtle, but I’ll take it. With a breath out, he nods.
I turn to his coach. “Can we talk in your office? You have my word that I’ll keep this guy on his best behavior.”
Coach Henderson shakes his head, his face red and his eyes hard. “Yes. Fine. Go. But your ass better be back on the ice and ready to play in three minutes.”
“You definitely don’t want me out there,” I reply, cringing. “I do better in heels than skates, although?—”
“I meant my goalie.”
I rock back on my heels and point at him. “Right. Yep. Of course.”
Before I can embarrass myself any further, Cameron grips my hand and pulls me out of the locker room. His palm is warm against mine as he leads me past a couple of doors. He stops abruptly and tugs me into a room filled with framed jerseys, photos, and championship memorabilia.
The moment the door clicks shut behind us, I dive in, listing off the series of events in a quick, to-the-point manner. “I was wearing your jersey. Well, it’s mine, but it has your name on it,” I blurt. “But a server spilled a tray of drinks on me. Gigi”—I try not to growl—“saw it happen and insisted she’d have someone bring me a new one. And they did. It was the Linden jersey, but didn’t recognize the name. The moment I found outwhosejersey it was, I ripped it off. Hence why I’m in a bra and Sloane’s too-tight blazer that makes me look like I’m auditioning for the role of teacher in a very specific type of adult film.”
He scans my face, his expression raw, almost unguarded in a way I’ve never seen.
The look alone makes my chest ache.
