Page 37 of Slap Shot Scandal
Maybe it’s Weston’s stupidly oversized biceps and rock-hard abs, that sharp jawline and his sexy as fuck smirk.
Doesn’t matter what’s causing me to lose my edge. All I know is I need to keep my eyes on the rebrand—and off of Weston Steele.
All of him.
No matter how freaking gorgeous he is.
And also maybe—secretly, deep-down—a nice guy.
Ugh. If he starts being nice to me, I’m definitely going to lose my resolve. I’ll just have to double-down on my professionalism and do my best to keep my distance.
Shoving out of the glass doors, I hurry in the direction of the arena. I can probably make it back before the storms kick up again.
“Hurricane!” Weston’s deep voice stops me in my tracks.
Shit.
Digging deep, I pray for my willpower to kick in. I take a quick breath and spin to face him.
“Hey. We survived.” I work to keep my tone light, although I’m high-key panicking on the inside. He can’t be out here, using that nickname where anyone could hear. It’s too personal, making our private connection visible, real. I fiddle with the stack of bracelets on my wrist and hope my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.
“Aren’t you going to look at the townhomes with us?” His brow furrows as he squints down at me, the hulkiness of his body overwhelming. I shift from foot to foot, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. Because there’s no way I’m going to be able to house hunt with Bennett hawking my every move concerning his brother.
“I’m going to pass. I have to get back.” I hook my thumb over my shoulder, pointing toward the arena.
“It’s kind of a long walk. You want me to give you a ride?”
“No, I could use the extra steps.” I tap at my watch, pretending to check my activity tracker.
“Too bad. Who’s going to talk me down in the event of an elevator emergency?” His lips tip into a wry smile and my heart skips in my chest.
This is so not good.
I can’t let my guard down, not when everything’s on the line—for both of us.
“You’ll be fine. Your brother’s here now. The two of you are probably strong enough to get the elevator moving even without power.”
He shakes his head, raking his hand through his hair. “Don’t think so. But thanks for the vote of confidence. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I lived in New York for years—pretty certain I can handle Driftwood Cove.”
“Alright. I’ll see you later then.”
We stand staring at each other for a long second, the salty ocean breeze cool on my heated skin, unspoken words hanging between us.
Finally, I break away. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other at a normal pace, although my gut instinct is to run and hide.
Because I don’t know exactly what happened in the elevator between us, but I do know that whatever it was definitely can’t happen again.
Straight after the afternoon meeting, I go back to the hotel and take a long shower, washing away the sweat-and-cedar smell of Weston left clinging to my skin. I’m finally in bed, working on my laptop with a glass of wine, when a video call from my younger sister, Piper, rings through.
Saving my latest ‘Hockey with Heart’ document, I tap my cell and Piper’s cheery face fills the screen.
“Hey, you.” Piper grins and waves, her long, dark hair in a high ponytail. “How’s Florida? You don’t look very tan.”
“Must be the lighting. Oh wait—no, it’s probably because I’ve been working during all the daylight hours, Pipes. It’s been a week and a half of non-stop meetings. One doesn’t tan buried under mountains of strategic plans in a cave of an office.”
“Still salty, though.” Shetsksloudly and shakes her head, ponytail swishing over her slim shoulders.
