Page 40 of Finding Out

She rolled her eyes, her blue irises almost identical to her dad’s. Then she turned to the large man blocking the door to the underground bar between the stadium and the hockey arena.

The Langfields had set it up for the team only, so the players had a spot to hang out without being bothered by fans. I’d been here last New Year’s Eve with Avery and twice during the season.

“Avery.” The man nodded and then glanced down at his list. “Wren Jacobs?”

Once he’d checked my ID, he waved us into the space filled with Boston memorabilia. Every inch of the bar was covered with teamlogos and photos through the years. Even signed jerseys hung above every table. It was like the three Revolutionaries—the Revs mascots—had thrown up Boston merch all over.

“Want me to grab drinks?” Avery asked.

I gave her a nod, then broke off to say hi to Hannah, the Revs’ head of PR. She and I had developed a friendship over the last couple of years.

“Hey, babe.” I greeted the tall brunette with a kiss on each cheek.

“God, I love the shoes. I swear I’d kill for access to your closet.”

I pointed my toe, letting her admire the black straps that hugged my foot and ankle.

“Holy shit, those are like a walking sex dungeon.” A familiar blond laughed.

“Wren’s shoes will make even the most anti-shoe-fetish person come around. Have the two of you met?” She waved a hand toward the woman in a bright blue dress. “Sara’s the me of the Boston Bolts.”

I hadn’t officially met Sara Case, but I’d heard of her. “And if rumors are true, you’re the girl who knocked the Bolts’ goalie off his feet, right?”

Sara laughed. “More like the girl making Brooks Langfield crazy.”

“One of the perks of being in a relationship.” Avery stepped into our circle and handed me a cranberry mimosa.

“How’s the wedding planning going?” Hannah tipped her wine at my friend.

The four of us chatted wedding plans for a while. In three weeks, my bestie would be a married woman. We’d done the bachelorette thing back in October before the Revs season ended. That way Chris’s offseason would be their time. All that was left on my to-do list was hosting the bridal shower the weekend before her wedding and my toast, of course.

My clutch vibrated, and I flicked it open, spying a text notification from Daddy Wilson. I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile as I lifted it out of my bag.

“Ugh. Seriously?” Avery groaned from beside me. “For the love of God, change his name in your phone.”

My stomach plummeted. Shit. I hadn’t realized she was peering over my shoulder.

“What?” Hannah cocked her head, her blue eyes bouncing between the two of us.

My heart skipped. Tom never texted anything provocative or crude, but I was glad I hadn’t unlocked my phone. Just in case. Or maybe wishful thinking. Because I was definitely wishing he’d send me non-work-related texts.

He’d been open to more between us, but I’d pushed it away. Now, though, I was wishing for more. What was my deal?

“She has my dad saved in her contacts as Daddy Wilson,” Avery grumbled.

Thatwas why I’d backed off. My best friend would hate me. She’d made it clear that she wanted me to leave her father alone. And I hadn’t.

My stomach soured.

“Why is he texting you anyway?”

“I’m sure it’s work related.” Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I put the phone back in my purse.

“The man is a workaholic.” Hannah smirked at me. “Let’s grab a refill, Wren.” She yanked on my arm, pulling me toward the bar and leaving Avery and Sara behind.

Once we’d ordered our drinks, she angled in closer, her eyes dancing. “Beckett wants me to set up a team event with the auction house, and he was adamant that all communication should go through you and Coach.” She tapped her finger on the granite bar top. “At this point, I’m pretty good at seeing through his matchmaking schemes…”

Panic crested like a wave in my stomach. Beckett had seen us together in Tom’s office. Though all we were doing was going over paperwork.

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