Page 65 of Hard to Handle

“This is what this is all about, isn’t it? You. Me. Years ago. Relationships aren’t my thing, Dekker.”

“No shit.” I pull my purse strap back up to my shoulder that fell off with the action.

“Not between me and a woman. Not between me and an agent.” He chews his cheek momentarily. “Not with anyone.”

“Good to know.” I angle my head, stare at him, and then go out on a limb with a hunch. “Why are you here? Hockey. Party. Fucking. Repeat? Is that why? I figured you’d be spending time with your family. But you’re out drinking and being an asshole.”

Muscles tic in his face as he clenches his jaw.

And there it is.

A reaction that is as sincere as it is threatening.

“Leave my family the fuck out of this,” he growls, his shoulders squaring, as he takes a step toward me. “Where do you get off—?”

His teammates take a protective step forward, but I shake my head to tell them it’s fine. In fact, I turn toward them and say, “It’s late, and I have an early conference call. Thank you for inviting me. It was a great time”—I glance to Hunter—“until it wasn’t.”

“Do you want me to take you back?” Callum asks, and I shake my head, not wanting to add fuel to Hunter’s accusation.

“No, thank you. Enjoy the rest of your night. It’ll probably be your last one for a while with the next few games being tough ones . . . so enjoy it while you can.” When I go to leave, Hunter won’t move so I can walk out of the small space between the table and the couch.

“Just admit it,” he says.

“Admit what?” I ask.

“Why you’re here.”

“Lay off, man,” Finch says and tries to pull Hunter by the arm out of my way, but he shrugs off his teammate’s arm without a look his way.

I shake my head subtly, the gravity in my voice matching the look in my eyes. “Honestly? I’m not sure why I’m here anymore.” More than a small part of me wishes I wasn’t. I’ve been his verbal punching bag one too many times since I came here, and I’m done.

It’s one thing when it’s just the two of us, but now he’s doing it in front of his teammates and all that does is undermine my professionalism. If I stand by and take it, I look like I have no backbone, and they’d wonder how that would translate to me fighting in contract negotiations for them.

On the other hand, when I do engage him and stand up for myself, it just devolves into an insult-fest that looks unprofessional and immature.

I feel like I’m in a no-win situation, especially when I see he’s not going to change.

Before I showed up here, I thought I could fix whatever was going on with him and win his trust in doing so, but now . . . now, I don’t think anything I do will help him.

Is this where I call my dad and tell him to pick someone else for me to recruit? That I refuse to put up with Hunter and his constant picking of fights to prevent us from having any real conversation? Or do I stick it out to prove to my dad that I’m tough and can handle even the most difficult of clients? But this isn’t about my father’s lack of faith in me . . . because I know he believes in me. KSM needs a Hunter Maddox in its client list.

I feel like I’m at a loss either way, but my dignity is stronger than my pride, and I’m done.

I look at Hunter one last time, and his expression falls as I stare at him a second longer before skirting around him and walking out of the club.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

HUNTER

“WHAT?” I SNAP AT THE guys when they stare at me after she walks out.

“What the fuck, Cap?” Finch asks and the look on his face—disgust and disappointment from a man I’m supposed to lead—hits me harder than his words.

I don’t wait for them to say anything more or rebuke me or what-the-fuck-ever it is they want to malign me with and head to the bar.

It’s much easier to drink to cope than to stand here and replay everything that happened at my parents’ house—the things I know will never change—and the fight I got into at the first bar I stopped by on my way here.

When will this pain and guilt and need to destroy everything go away?