Page 49 of Hard to Handle

Then again, if Finn keeps sticking his foot in his mouth like he did earlier today with his cheap fuck comment, I’ll just keep my mouth shut and let him do the convincing for me.

The guys switch drills, and I watch Callum move through the line. He swears his change to a plant-based diet has made all the difference in the past couple of months and a part of me agrees. It seems to have assisted in the fluidity of his movement and his increased stamina. Regardless of the reasons behind it, I’ll take it, because his contract is up at the end of the season and I’d love his stats to inch up to help those negotiations in our favor.

I watch them and Finn watches me.

“Should I be worried you’re here to steal my clients, Dekker?” he finally asks.

He’s pushing buttons.

I snort in response and check a text that came across my phone to play him a bit.

“Is that a yes?” he pushes.

I turn to face him for the first time. I take in his perfectly styled hair and dark gray eyes and all I can think is how he’s too perfect, too polished.

I bristle over how much I despise him but the smile on my face shows nothing but indifference.

“It’s a nothing. It’s a maybe you should be a better agent and then you wouldn’t have to worry if your client might jump ship, because you already know they’re satisfied.”

“Like yours are?”

“I’ll let you stand here and be a petty, insecure agent while I go stand over there in shoes I’m more than comfortable in and with a conscience that lets me fall asleep perfectly fine at night.” I start to move to the opposite end of the box.

“Tucking your tail between your legs already, Kincade? I thought you’d fight harder than that to keep your clients.”

“Prick,” I mutter under my breath and welcome the ringing of his cellphone to interrupt this less-than-stimulating conversation.

There is a commotion at my back, and I turn toward the entrance to see a high-tech-looking wheelchair being moved into the suite. I smile at the person who’s strapped into the chair out of kindness, but I’m unaware if he sees me or not. Fearing I’m staring, I offer a similar greeting to the woman pushing it. She’s older in age, her hair stuck to her cheek and frustration lining her face.

“Do you need any help?” I offer and move toward them, noting the awkwardness of the chair since its occupant is lying back.

“No. I’ve got it. Thanks,” she says with a slight grunt as she moves him to the end of the aisle where the chair can fit with an unobstructed view of the arena.

And it hits me.

That’s Jonah. It’s Hunter’s brother.

I digest the information, trying not to look their way so I can make the connection completely.

Then I debate walking over and introducing myself to them, but figure I should let her get them situated first so my presence doesn’t make him feel like I’m there to ogle or so I’m not in the way.

And the whole time I stand there waiting for them to get settled, eyes watching the Jacks warm-up and their actions in my periphery, she murmurs words to who I assume is Jonah as if she’s making sure everything is okay.

“Here we are. You comfortable?” She adjusts his arms. “How exciting. Aren’t you excited to be here, Jonah? I know you’ve been waiting forever for this.” She flips a switch on the chair and it sits up some. “The Jacks are going to win tonight. I mean, you’re here. You’re their good luck charm.”

She talks to him in a soft, singsongy voice, each sentence of hers competing with the gentle hum of his ventilated breaths, as she fiddles with things on the chair.

“Carla. So great to see you,” Finn says before stepping around me.

I turn to watch Carla’s face light up as she moves toward him and embraces him in a quick hug. “Mr. Sanderson. I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. So good to see you.”

Finn moves toward the man in the wheelchair. “Good to see you, Jonah. You excited to watch the game tonight? Your brother has been slaying it. I bet he’s going to play like a madman tonight knowing you’re here.”

Carla reaches her hand out and pats Finn’s arm, her eyes and the slight shake of her head saying something I don’t understand.

Feeling like I’m eavesdropping but forced to due to proximity, I turn my attention back to the ice, my moment to introduce myself lost.

“Are you taking care of my boy?” she asks.