Page 36 of Hard to Handle

Or a mix of both.

His feet falter as he stands in the middle of the tunnel. We’re in the bowels of the arena, and there is no one in sight but the two of us.

He lifts his gaze to meet mine and words, emotions, everything seem to fall when they do. He looks beaten down and confused, and I want to reach out and hug him, even though I know that’s so inappropriate. It’s like the fire in him from earlier this morning has been extinguished, snuffed out.

We stare at each other in the dim light for longer than we should as a million things I should say come to mind and then fade. He won’t listen. It’d be unwanted, unheard, lip service.

And I have never given lip service to clients just to make them feel better, so why would I attempt to with him? If I lie to them about things we both know aren’t true, how would they ever trust me when it really matters?

“Leave it, Dekker.” His voice is a soft rumble as he walks past me.

“Hunter!” I hate the desperation that rings in my voice but can’t help it.

But he doesn’t stop.

He keeps on walking.

* * *

“That sigh of yours is heavy, Dekk. It always is when you’re overthinking things. What’s on your mind, kid?” My dad’s voice sounds like comfort coming through the line and as much as I’m frustrated at him, a smile turns up a small part of my lips.

“Are you trying to set me up?”

“What?” he asks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

But I’m not being ridiculous.

It’s all I thought about as I wandered through the tunnels of the arena waiting for one of my clients on the opposing team to finish with his press interviews so I could have a quick check-in with him.

My conclusion was this. “I’m the only one of the four of us you sent to recruit, Dad. Lennox told me you haven’t given the rest of them clients to steal yet.”

“Because it’s not the right time.”

“I call bullshit.” I fold my arms over my chest and stare out the window of my hotel. The skyline of the city is dotted with buildings and lights in the moonless night.

“Hunter was the most urgent. He’s up for a contract negotiation in a few months and with them so close to competing for the Cup, it’s a good time to be ready to poach.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?” He sounds like the voice of innocence. “Did you piss him off? Is that why he played like shit tonight?”

“That right there!” I all but jump. “You never watch hockey, it’s not your sport, but you watched tonight’s game? That’s suspect.”

“It was on the TV while I worked through some contracts.” His chuckle fills the line. “And, sweetie, I watch all sports.”

I chew the inside of my cheek as I listen to him turn the water on and then off, now wondering if my thoughts ran away with me earlier. “You’re up to something.” I know it.

“How about you be up to telling me what’s going on there?”

“Nothing to report,” I say, willing to give him a reprieve momentarily, because I do want to talk to him about Hunter.

“But your silence says you have thoughts.”

“I do.” I nod. “I think he’s definitely burned out and can’t see the forest for the trees.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, there’s a catalyst that’s causing it.”