Page 38 of Fake Shot

His face softens a bit when he looks at her. “No, but I have a responsibility to make sure you end up with someone capable of treating you right. Preferably someone whose body count isn’t a thousand people deep.”

The way the adrenaline pumps through my system at that statement—equal parts anger and shame—makes me want to tear Jameson in half. But he’s not wrong.

Jules’s hand lands on my forearm, gripping it tight enough that I take a breath. “Again,” she practically growls at her brother. “None. Of. Your. Fucking. Business. You donothave a responsibility to make sure I end up withanyone.Who I end up with is my choice, and mine alone.”

“I just want what’s best for you,” he tells her.

“Which isn’t me.” My comment comes through sounding just as tense as I feel. It’s not a question, but I am looking for him to confirm if that’s what he meant.

“Hey,” he says, his gaze sliding from Jules to me where I stand next to her. “Nothing against you. I just want Jules to end up with someone?—”

“Who you trust with her. And you’ve made it perfectly clear that isn’t me.”

I see the confusion in his eyes, and I don’t know why I’mso mad about this. He’s watched me rack up one-night stands—fucking and forgetting women over and over—for a decade and a half. But he’s the only person in Boston who knows about Cheri and Gabriel. So I guess I always assumed he understood why I never dated, why I wouldn’t trust anyone enough to give them more than a night.

Jules moves her hand from my forearm to my abdomen, like she’s holding me back, and then extends her other arm to Jameson’s chest. It’s only then that I realize how close we both are to throwing punches over this.

“Alright, you two clearly need a breather. Jameson, go home to Lauren, and let her explain to you why you’re acting like an asshole.”

“I’m not being an asshole.” He sounds defensive.

“It’s kind of your default. But not normally with either of us,” she says, nodding her chin toward me while her hands remain firmly in place on each of us. “I get that you’re not happy about this, but we’re not asking for your opinion.We’llhandle this.”

Jameson’s eyes flick back and forth between the two of us. “Fine.” Then he looks back at me. “You better not hurt her.”

“No one’s going to get hurt,” I say, with more certainty than I feel. Because if I’ve learned anything tonight, it’s that I like Jules Flynn a whole lot more than I realized.

“Ireally might throw up,” Jules says as we walk down the hallway of the office suite at the Rebels’ practice facility early on Sunday morning.

“I tried to take you out to breakfast first,” I remind her. “Coffee on an empty stomach is never a good idea.”

“You don’t even drink coffee,” she reminds me. “And I’m not going to throw up because of the caffeine. It’s nerves.”

I take her hand, lacing our fingers together and giving her a little squeeze as we walk down the hallway. I’m so relieved when she doesn’t pull her hand away that I stop walking and tug her back toward me. Her free hand flies up and lands on my chest as she spins around in surprise.

“Hey.” I bend my head so I’m looking her in the eyes as she stares up at me. “Are you having second thoughts about this?”

“What? No.” She shakes her head slightly, eyebrows scrunched up like she doesn’t understand why I’m asking this.

“Jules, I know my reputation will come up again and again,” I say, thinking about Jameson’s reaction last night and imagining how fans will take this news. Will she bethe one who finally tamed Colt,or will she be painted asthe poor soul who was last in a long line of women? “I’m not sure how people will talk about you as a result, and if you don’t want to do this, it’s not too late to back out.”

“As long as you’re willing to stand up for me whenever necessary, and I do the same for you, we’ll be fine.” Her words are certain, her face is anything but.

“Us against the world?”

She lets out a small laugh, and it’s so good to see a genuine smile from her that I can’t hold mine in either. “Something like that,” she says as her eyes search mine for a moment that ends too quickly. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

We approach the only open door, with the light streaming through into the somewhat dim hallway. I don’t spend a lot of time up here in the offices, but the times I’ve been here, it’s bustling. The whole space feels desolate right now, and that is a little intimidating, if I’m being honest.

AJ is sitting at her desk, her long dark hair obscuring her face as she looks at her phone. When I knock twice on the open door, her head snaps up, and she stands immediately, walking toward her couch area as she ushers us in. I introduce Jules, and AJ smiles as she extends her hand. “Alessandra Jones,” she says, “but please, call me AJ.”

As they shake hands, Jules tells her how much she likes her office. It’s always amused me that AJ—who is literally the most powerful woman in hockey and whose entire reputation is based on being a complete ball-buster—has such a feminine office. There’s a low cream-colored couch running along the glass wall that overlooks the practice rink. In front of it is a coffee table, and cushioned armchairs with frilly pillows are on either side.

Jules and I take a seat on the couch, and AJ sits in the chair on my other side. Next to me, Jules slides her hand back into mine, and I give her another supportive squeeze as I look over at AJ, waiting for her to say something.

“So the funny thing about being the only female GM in the league,” she says, looking straight past me at Jules, “is that I tend to do things a little differently than some of my male counterparts. For example, I pride myself on knowing my players well—not just as players, but as people. I like to think one of the reasons I’ve been able to build the team I have here in Boston is because I inherited some great players, like Colt, who predated me. And I’ve been able to bring in thetype of men I want, not for their skill on the ice, but because I know they’ll have each other’s backs.”

Her eyes flick to me. “Which is why I find it absolutelyshockingthat I had to find out you’re engaged from a goddamn fan website. You’re a leader on this team, someone I’ve trusted from day one, despite how you’re portrayed in the media. So being blindsided like this ... either I’m fucking terrible at my job, or this”—she gestures between me and Jules—“is not what it seems.”

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