Page 9 of Power Play
“Hard not to when you’re actively setting the carpet on fire.”
I laugh, despite myself. “You’re laying it on thick tonight.”
“Only for you.”
He’s teasing, but it lands too real. My throat tightens, and I distract myself by swirling the wine in my glass.
“Enjoying the attention?” I nod toward a small group of women near the silent auction table. One’s openly checking him out. Another is pretending not to.
Murphy shrugs, grinning. “They’re sweet. But none of them threatened to throw a Yorkshire pudding at me for mocking their playlist choices.”
“High standards, I see.”
That look in his eyes undoes me a little, and I have to look away.
Before I can form a reply, a voice booms through the speakers, calling everyone’s attention to the stage. The host, a silver-haired man with a radio voice and a lot of teeth, smiles brightly. “And now, the part of the evening you’ve all been waiting for; the community awards. Honouring those who go above and beyond both on and off the ice.”
A polite cheer goes up. I glance around, ready to fade into the crowd again, but Mia appears beside me out of nowhere.
“There you are,” she says, handing me a folded card. “You’re presenting with Murphy.”
“Excuse me?”
“Dylan and I are doing the final one. You and golden boy are up for Best Youth Outreach Initiative. Don’t panic. It’s just a name and a handshake.”
She’s already gone before I can protest. Murphy’s grinning like the cat who got the cream. “Guess we’re a double act now.”
“I didn’t agree to this.”
He holds out his elbow. “You’ll survive. Besides, we’ll look good up there.”
I hesitate for a beat too long before slipping my hand into the crook of his arm.
As we walk toward the stage, he murmurs, “Try not to push me off it.”
“No promises.”
The lights are bright and the room falls quiet. Murphy steps up to the mic first, his smile is easy and charming. My stomach does a stupid flip.
“Good evening, everyone. I’m Samuel Murphy, but you probably know me as Murphy. This is Sophie Hart, the real talent here tonight,”
“Who was blackmailed into this role,” I add, earning a ripple of laughter.
Murphy grins sideways at me, proud. “We’re here to present the award for Best Youth Outreach Initiative, which recognises someone who’s given their time and heart to support kids in our community.”
He gestures for me to read the winner’s name. I open the card, trying not to fumble it.
“And the winner is… Ella Jensen, for her volunteer work running free hockey sessions at Southside Community Rink!”
The crowd claps and a teenager in a sparkly dress, beams as she walks on stage. We shake her hand. There are photos. Flashbulbs. Warm applause.
It’s textbook gala perfection.
Until it isn’t.
As we leave the stage, Murphy’s hand brushes the small of my back. It lingers a little too long and I feel it in every nerve ending. There’s something there, a real sparking, a moment suspended between beats of music.
And then I hear her voice. “Oh my God, Murph! There you are!”
