Page 3 of Power Play

“I heard through the grapevine that she’s seeing someone now,” I tell Jenny as I pull my car into the TeaLicious parking lot. It’s packed to the brim, and I beeline for the remaining empty spot. “Ty’s sensibilities will now be safe.”

“Thank God.”

We laugh at the same time and then climb out of my Prius.

TeaLicious is by far one of the most hipster-populated places I’ve ever visited. Think wine bar but with tea instead. It also happens to be Mel’s favorite place in the Boston-metro area, and therefore it only made sense to kick off her last few weeks of Singledom by drinking one too many cups of Earl Grey.

What can I say? Some people prefer rum and coke; Mel James prefers orange-scented tea that spent a former lifetime as a jolly-rancher.

We give the party name to the hostess and she’s quick to point us in the direction of the group of shrieking women at the back of the restaurant.

I purposely avoid making eye contact with Jenny as we sidle up to the group.

Mel spots us almost immediately, and she launches up from her chair to book it straight over, her arms outstretched. “You’rehere!” she cries, cupping my face in her hands as she plants a smacking kiss on each of my cheeks. She does the same to Jenny, who squirms at the too-close contact.

Whereas Jenny carries hand-sanitizer everywhere she goes, Mel James—soon to be Mel Wellers—has no idea that some people require personal space.

“Charlie was running late again,” Jenny drawls, effectively throwing me under the bus.

I huff a little at that, even though it is sort of true. To Mel, I say, “I accidentally slept through my alarm. I didn’t go to bed until late last night.”

“Hot date?” Mel asks with a dash of hope in her expression.

I hate to disappoint her, seeing as howmylove life is as silent as a graveyard, but . . .

“No, I was at work. You’d think that the boss man would want to head home early on a Friday night. Not the case. He decided at six p.m. on the dot that he wanted me to do research for a feature piece on Duke Harrison’s shit-tastic game from Thursday.”

Mel’s right eye twitches in that way it does when she’s hiding something. I pause, waiting for her to speak up like she always does when something is eating away at her.

She doesn’t, so I add, “I don’t get why everyone’s obsessed with Harrison. I mean, all right, he plays for the NHL. He’s quick with his hands, and he’s relatively good-looking—if you like that my-teeth-might-not-be-my-own appeal, which isn’t really my thing.”

“Sounds like someone’s got a crush,” Jenny snickers from beside me, and I promptly shoot her the bird. She mimes catching it, then ignites my offering in a pit of imaginary fire. Lovely.

“I don’t have a crush,” I mutter, tucking my crazy blonde hair behind one ear. You can dress me in fine clothes, but my hair is a beast of its own. There’s no taming it. “All I’m saying,” I stress slowly, “is that he should have retired by now. Just because he was a hotshot goalie for the last decade doesn’t mean that he’s adept at protecting the net anymore. He’s weak.”

“Thank you.”

I flinch at the masculine voice behind me, my gaze immediately seeking help from my two best friends. Both Mel and Jenny look up at the ceiling, and I instantly kick them off of my short-but-sweet best friends list.

You see, there’s the minute fact that I recognize that voice. I spentsix goddamn hourslistening to interviews on YouTube last night, and that husky baritone was featured in every single video I clicked.

Ireallydon’t want to turn around and face the music, and I can practically hear my bones creak in protest as I do so. My thoughts go something like this:

Ah, shit.

Why is this happening to me?

What Karma did I accrue?

And, most importantly,what thehellis Duke Harrison of the Boston Blades doing here?

When I turn around, I have my answer.

Mel’s cousin Gwen is suctioned to Duke Harrison’s side like an octopus after its next meal. I’m not kidding. Her arm is wrapped around his back, her fingers stuffed into the front pocket of his jeans. Her bottle-dyed red hair cascades over his arm, she’s that close to him. Unsurprisingly, she’s shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

I blink back at her coolly, just to show that I won’t be bullied.

Then I take my first look at Duke Harrison in the flesh and I’m surprised to find that I’m still standing.

---