Page 3 of The Closed Off Captain

I shrug. “Yeah.”

She taps her stylus on the table faster and faster. I'm half expecting it to take flight. “Well, Mr. Coftman, she has now publicly declared on your fan page, of all places, and on the team page that she is carrying your child. Thousands of people have already seen those posts and have weighed in.”

I scoff. “People don’t believe that kind of—”

“They’ve started voting on baby names,” she continues as if I never said anything.

“Gunny, Jenner, Puck, Cap, Genny with a G.” She looks at me. “Should I continue?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

She doesn’t listen. “Ginger, Junner, Junny, Gunjen.”

I scowl. “Those are stupid names.”

She puts her tablet down on the table. “The problem exists in that the names exist. This woman has called you out as the father of her baby.”

“It’s not true,” I remind her.

“Have you learned nothing in the last four years of me being here? I tell you guys all the time. It doesn’t matter what’s true; what matters is what peoplebelieveis true. Right now, there’s a woman out there that has made a lot of people believe thatyouare the father of her unborn child.”

“But how? I haven't seen her since high school.”

Chloe sits back in her chair, and I watch as her expression softens just the slightest bit for the first time since I walked inhere. “She did her homework well, Coftman. She really knows you.” She leans back in her chair. “Shoot, I even believed the woman.”

“What’s she got on me?” I ask, almost dreading to hear the answer.

Chapter 2

Chloe

I sit back in my chair and assess Gunner. I haven’t been in a situation like this where it was just the two of us in a long time. I could probably count on one hand the times it’s happened since I joined the organization four years ago. I’ve made sure to never let it happen, not after I made the biggest idiot of myself when I first joined the team. I'd been a fan of Gunner’s long before I ever joined the team. I love hockey, always have. The Green Thunder has been my favorite team since I was little, and I’d been a fan of Gunner’s since he joined the team. I’d always been enamored by the big guy on the ice. They used to call him Gunner the Gunslinger because of his slapshot. There was so much force behind his shot. When I got hired onto the team for my dream job, I thought long and hard about how I would approach Gunner. I wanted to introduce myself and tell him what a huge fan I was. Only, in my excitement over finally meeting him in person for the first time, I lost my head. I introduced myself and asked him out, all in the span of about thirty seconds. Most embarrassing thirty seconds of my life. I’m still trying to outrun that horrible, foolish mistake. I was young and naive and incredibly sure of myself. Gunner shot me down before I even got the words out of my mouth. My face burns at the memory, and I push it deep into the recesses of my mind where all my other most embarrassing moments live. I remind myself that I am a successful agent now, and that’s all behind me.Focus.I busy myself by opening a new note in my iPad. “All right. Let’s goback to the beginning. So, you knew Jenny in high school?” He nods. “Dated?”

“No.”

“Friends?”

“No.”

“Did you go to prom together? Did you ever give her a note? A gift?”

He shakes his head. His arms are crossed over his massive chest, and his body language is reading totally closed off. Too bad I have to do my job. I push on. “When was the first time she contacted you?”

He thinks a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe a few months ago.”

I resist the urge to berate him. I’ve told the guys over and over again that they need to come to me for these kinds of situations. “Do you still have the message on your phone?”

“No.”

“What did she say?” When he doesn’t answer, I look up from my tablet. “Coftman?”

“You think I remember a message from months ago?” he asks, sounding annoyed and put-out. It almost makes me laugh.Almost.

“Fine. We’ll get it.” I make a note.

“I deleted it,” he repeats.

“I know. I’ve got a guy. Now, you said she called several more times, but you didn’t answer?” When I don’t hear anything, I look up again. “Use your words, Coftman.”

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