Page 40 of One Pucking Wish

“Yeah, well, we have a lot of damage control to do.”

“I didn’t do anything in Florida to warrant this.” He sucks in a breath through his nose.

Splaying my hands on my desk, I lean in. “Look, I get that, but it doesn’t matter. It still looks bad for the Crane Organization. That photo, paired with all the hotheaded shit you’ve done over the years, has created this bad reputation around you, and the owners aren’t happy. This good deeds tour is long overdue. It’s not just about the photo. If that were an isolated incident, it wouldn’t be as bad, but you know it wasn’t.”

“I don’t have time for this shit, Princess.”

We’re back to using my most despised nickname, making my tiny bit of empathy for the guy dissipate in record time. “Yeah, well, neither do I, yet… here we are. I’m forced to do all this crap with you, set up the photo ops and get the stories in the hands of the news outlets. It’s a lot of extra work I wish I didn’t have to do either.”

He gives me a look that resembles remorse as if he feels bad for adding more to my plate, but that can’t be it. That isn’t something Gunner Dreven would feel. Yet there’s this energy in the room. It’s more than remorse. There’s a longing, too. Or maybe I’m reflecting my own feelings outward.

Sitting across from Gunner in this office has me feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling. The knowledge that most everyone has gone home for the day and we’re alone has me on edge. It has emotions from our time together fighting for air, but I shove it all down, suffocating every single one of them.

I cross my legs. Leaning my elbows on the desk, I steeple my hands, pressing my fingers against my lips. “Do you have any more questions?”

Gunner’s chest rises and falls, heavier than usual. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips.

It dawns on me that this is the most we’ve spoken since we’ve been back, and I realize I want him to have questions because I don’t want him to leave. This is an excuse to talk to him, something I don’t normally have. We agreed to go back to the way it was, and that means that the only time we communicate is when he does something to piss me off.

Today has been busy as hell. I’ve worked nonstop to smooth everything over and set up the plan in his hands. Despite the long hours, it’s been a good day. I feel… content, and now I’m wondering why.

He has yet to answer my question, so I ask him another. “Is there something you want to say, Gunner?” Something you want to talk about?”

My question is met with more silence as he runs his palms over his jean-clad thighs. There is contemplation in his gaze. He wants to say something, and he’s deciding whether he should.

Abruptly, he pushes himself up from the chair and takes a step away from the desk. He holds the packet up and shakes it. “No. Everything I need to know is right here.”

And then he’s gone.

I pull in a deep breath and look around my vacant office. Pressing my hand to my chest, I attempt to dull the ache. I can’t pinpoint the source of my unease, but it’s there, and I wish it wasn’t.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

GUNNER

The Gunner Dreven Good Deeds tour is getting old. Penny has been a pain in my ass for weeks now, scheduling one thing after another to prove I’m not the asshole I am. The fact that the photo that caused this all was fabricated is icing on the cake. Though, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I may not have shoved the guy in Florida, but I’ve put my hands on more than a few douches in my day as the Crane goalie. Maybe, as she said, this tour is overdue. Regardless, I’m ready for it to be over.

Not only do we have a several-day break in our play schedule but we’ve also had a rare stretch of warmer days for March. Something that Penny has made sure to take advantage of. The past two days have included the entire team as we work under our nonprofit building company Cranes Cares. Admittedly, the project is pretty cool. One of the animal rescues in Detroit acquired some land from a generous donor and is building a second kennel so they can take in more dogs. The kennel is almost finished, and it’s a beautiful facility. The team is putting the finishing touches on the place today. We’re installing the light fixtures, kennel doors, and outside fencing. By the time we leave tonight, they’ll be ready for their grand opening this weekend.

Yesterday morning consisted of digging holes, mixing concrete, pouring the concrete into the hole, and placing the metal posts in said concrete. Now that the concrete has dried, we’re attaching the chain-link fence to the posts to create a run for each kennel.

“Where did the other pair of pliers go?” I ask Max.

He works on his section of the fence. “I don’t know, man.” He looks around. “I think I saw J-Man with a pair a minute ago.”

I pull off my work gloves and drop them to the ground. “It’s fine. I saw a couple of pairs in a toolbox in the supply closet.”

On the way back to the kennel, I roll my shoulders and bend my head to each side, stretching my stiff neck. This project has me using muscles I’m not used to working. It probably doesn’t help that I’ve barely taken a break in two days. I didn’t want to risk the press snapping a picture I wasn’t in. This is all to clean up my image, after all. The cameras have all gone since our project is reaching completion, and I feel a sense of relief.

The toolbox sits on a shelf in the back of the large walk-in closet. Opening the metal lid, I riffle through it for another pair of pliers.

Someone enters the closet, and I don’t have to turn around to know it’s her. The air in the space changes when she enters.

“I just need to find the light bulbs,” she grumbles.

A clear Tupperware bin of light bulbs sits on the top shelf to my right. “These?” I nod toward the bin as I turn around to face her.

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