Page 21 of Match Penalty

"Still with the full name, mon ange?" He leans against my desk, the last part he says in French again so that I can't understand him. Further annoying me… intentionally.

He leans in close enough that I catch the scent of his deodorant, an unfortunate familiar smell from all the encounters we've had over the years that I'd prefer not to remember.

"I thought we were past that."

"Nicknames are reserved for friends or lovers, and we're neither—we're work colleagues at best." I finally look up, meeting his gaze and immediately wishing I hadn't. His eyes are the same bright blue I remember. Like broken sea glass that I could drown in if I'm not careful. "What can I help you with today? In English this time, if you don't mind."

He licks his lips, a slow, amused smile tugging at the corner of his perfectly sculpted cupid’s bow, hand crafted by the devil himself.

“I’m here to help with the auction. Use me however you want.”

I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I already told you that I don't need your help. Thanks anyway, goodbye," I say, turning back to my computer as if this conversation just ended.

"Yeah, I know but that was last week." He picks up the stress ball from my desk—the one I got at last year's white elephant Christmas party. I didn't realize how much I'd use it. Turns out that I use it…a lot, especially with Phil selling the team, the stress of getting the auction items done right, and the idea of JP being back in my world.

At least a lot of the changes Everett is making around here seems to be for the good of the team. With the new practice rink about ready to break ground next year and plans for a new parking garage for the administrative staff, as well as buying into the team family dynamic by keeping the team Christmas and donating even more than ever to all of the Hawkeyes causes, I see why Phil felt good about selling to Everett. Even if Everett is bringing on more controversial players to make a splash his first year as owner.

"And what's changed?" I ask, leaning back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest, while I watch JP's thick forearm bulge every time he squeezes the red squishy ball.

His expression softens. "Maybe I have."

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. For a moment, I'm back in that house, walking in the front door to find a large group swarming JP. The moment I walked in, his eyes locked on mine, surprise glimmering—he hadn't thought I’d show up.

I shake off the memory. "Focus on your game. That's what the team needs from you, and that’s what Everett is paying you to do."

"And what do you need?"

The question hangs between us, loaded with everything we've left unsaid. I stand, needing distance. "What I need is to do my job and to make sure that these auction items are the best that the foundation has ever put out. Briggs, Autumn, Penelope and Everett are counting on me to make this happen."

"Then let me help," he says, his voice dropping lower. "Please."

Something in his tone makes me pause. "Fine," I say finally, because this auction isn't about me. It's about these families and showing Penelope that she can count on me. And maybe someday, she'll move me up to the Assistant GM position that was never filled after she became GM years ago. "Brynn and I are meeting up tonight to brainstorm. I'll text you if I need anything."

A slow grin spreads across his face. "You'll have to unblock my number first."

Heat rises to my cheeks. "Goodbye, Jon Paul."

He backs away, still grinning. "See you soon, Cammy."

I watch him leave, trying to ignore the way my heart races. This is exactly what I don't need—JP Dumont back in my life, speaking French and wearing that damn smile like he never broke my heart.

Brynn's curled up on my couch, wine glass in hand, auction notes scattered across my coffee table when I tell her about the visitor I received earlier today and how Penelope couldn't get out of the office fast enough when he showed up.

"He's offered to help twice now?" Brynn's eyes widen, and a slow grin starts to stretch across her lips.

"Three times, actually," I admit, sinking deeper into my armchair. "Once when Penelope first mentioned the auction, again yesterday after practice with Penelope, and now earlier this afternoon with me."

She raises an eyebrow. "He’s persistent isn’t he?”

“You have no idea,” I say, rolling my eyes at the thought of the years we spent flirting before I ever showed up at that house.

“And you're still saying no because...?"

I take a long sip of wine, letting the crisp white settle my nerves. "Because I don't need his help. And because the last time I trusted JP, I woke up alone in a guestroom of the Hawkeyes' mortal enemy while he was wrecking his car into a guardrail with another woman."

Brynn winces. "Okay, fair point. We don't like him—got it. I’m not on his side… just so we’re clear," she nods in solidarity. "But that doesn't mean you can’t use him for your benefit. You still have a lot to do to gather everything together, and you have only five weeks left to do it. Plus, Penelope said that he wants to show Coach Haynes that he’s a team player… so let him."

She makes a good point. This isn't about him and me, it’s about the charity, and we both want to prove something to our bosses. Having him wrangle some of the players wouldn’t be the worst, considering I still have so many emails to get through, merch to get signed, and I need to create an itemized list in the software for the auction items.

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