She squinted at him suspiciously but returned to her meal, and he spent the rest of the dinner in a state of quiet crisis.
When dessert arrived she attacked the shared platter of pastries with gleeful enthusiasm—and then she offered him a bite of her chocolate tart without being asked.
It was the best thing he'd ever tasted.
CHAPTER FOUR
"He's basically the whole franchise," Sam said, sliding a folder across her desk to Edie with the casual air of someone delivering gossip instead of official marketing materials. "Captain, fan favorite, community ambassador. The kids love him. The sponsors really love him. We put his face on everything from cereal boxes to car dealerships."
Edie flipped open the folder and was immediately confronted with approximately forty photographs of Tarmek Stonefist looking serious in various promotional contexts. Tarmek holding a hockey stick with intensity. Tarmek kneeling beside a youth hockey team with slightly less intensity. Tarmek shaking hands with the mayor, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else on the planet.
"He seems thrilled about all of this," she said.
"Oh, he hates it. Absolutely loathes public appearances. But he does them anyway because he's pathologically responsible and the team needs the exposure." Sam grinned. "It's one of my favorite things about him, honestly. Watching him suffer through charity galas is better than television."
"That seems cruel."
"It's not cruel if I also make sure there's a plate of perfectly grilled steak waiting for him in the green room afterward. Positive reinforcement." Sam tapped the folder. "Anyway, I thought this might help with your mural research. Team history, key moments, that kind of thing. If you need more details, Tarmek's your guy. He's been with the Enforcers longer than anyone except Makron and Coach Morrison."
She looked down at the folder, then back up at Sam. "You want me to interview Tarmek."
"I want you to do whatever you need to do to make a great mural. If that involves bothering our captain, well." Sam's grin widened. "I've noticed he doesn't seem to mind being bothered by you."
He doesn't?
She gathered the folder and retreated to the corner of the arena's storage area that she'd claimed by as a temporary workspace to process this information. She'd been in Greenwood Hollow for two weeks now. Three weeks of painting and sketching and slowly falling in love with this weird little town and its hockey-obsessed population.
And two weeks of Tarmek.
The team dinner had changed something. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what or how, but ever since she'd stolen that bite of elk off his plate, she'd felt his attention fixed on her with an almost physical weight. It didn't feel uncomfortable or threatening, just present. He was always somewhere nearby, watching from the corner of his eye, and every time she caught him at it, he looked away first.
It was confusing and flattering and probably meant nothing.
She pulled out her phone and started a new note. Mural Research - Interview Questions. Then she stared at the blank screen for a solid five minutes, trying to figure out how to phrase "tell me about your feelings" in a way that a stoic orc hockey captain might actually answer.
She found him in the weight room at six in the morning, because apparently he existed on a different timeline than normal people. He was wearing nothing but shorts and a determined expression, the overhead lights highlighting the impressive musculature of his chest and arms.
She stopped in the doorway and appreciated the view for approximately seven seconds before remembering why she was there.
"Hey," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "Got a minute?"
He was mid-lift, a barbell loaded with enough weight to make her spine hurt just looking at it hovering above his chest. His arms didn't waver. "No."
"Great, perfect." She walked in anyway, hopping up onto a nearby equipment bench and swinging her legs. "Sam says you're the franchise expert. I need to know about team history for the mural."
"Ask Sam."
"Sam said to ask you."
The barbell completed its arc and settled into the rack with a controlled clang. She tried to focus on her notebook and her questions and definitely not the way his muscles moved under his skin. He sat up, reaching for a towel, and fixed her with alook that probably intimidated opposing players but mostly just made her want to poke him.
"I'm busy."
"You're always busy. I checked your schedule. You're also busy at seven, eight, nine, and ten. Then you have a team meeting, then practice, then more practice, then film review. Your only free time is between midnight and five AM, and I'm not nocturnal." She pulled out her phone and opened her notes. "So we're doing this now."
Something that might have been respect flickered across his face. Or possibly annoyance. With Tarmek, it was hard to tell.
"Fine," he said. "You have five minutes."
