Page 32 of Slap Shot Scandal
The elevator opens and Harbor swishes inside, jamming the L. I lean back against the gold railing as the doors slide closed.
“Where are you going to stay?” I ask under the guise of small talk, although part of me is genuinely interested.
I shouldn’t be, but I am.
She shrugs. “Not sure yet. Probably wherever’s left after the team arrives.”
“You should decide now. Get a jump. You were here first.”
“The athletes are more important. I’m fine wherever. You should have seen my apartment in the city. It was tiny. About half as big as the condo we just toured.”
“Wow. Did you at least have a good view?”
“If you count the building dumpster, yeah. It was great.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sure you can’t relate,” she fires back.
“I have lived in shitty places before, you know.”
“Like where?”
“My college dorm wasn’t amazing.”
“Are dorms anywhere amazing?”
Suddenly, the lights flicker and then cut out, the elevator lurching to an abrupt stop. Harbor loses her balance, falling into me. I grab her arm, catching her at the elbow as she stumbles up against my chest.
The car drops another inch with a sickening lurch. Harbor’s fingers dig into my biceps, her breath catching on a gasp.
Oh shit.
I’m stuck in a pitch-black elevator with Hurricane Harbor—and there’s nowhere to hide from what’s brewing between us.
CHAPTER 9
WESTON
Heart pounding, Harbor’s soft body presses against me in the darkness. The scent of vanilla and coconut drifts up from her hair, swirling and filling the enclosed space.
“Weston?” Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Did the power just go out?”
“I think so.”
“Oh my god.” The words come out a tight, sorrowful moan.
“It’ll be okay.” I squeeze her arms, trying to sound reassuring. Although inside, I’m less than confident.
I hate tight spaces.
“I’m sure we’ll be up and running again in no time.” I’m trying to talk myself into believing the power’s coming back on as much as I’m trying to calm her down.
Hot panic surges through me, chest tight. My vision goes spotty, white pricks of light dancing in the periphery, and I can’t get a full breath.
