Page 35 of Penalties and Proposals

“She’s got a point, Noah.” I can only mumble this because my mind is working overtime.

“Huh?” He looks at me with confusion etched across his beautiful features. “You really think that she’s going to make this a thing?”

“I think she could cause trouble if she wanted to,” I begin, only to be interrupted. Again.

“Hey, Noah,” Travis says, walking up to us. “Willa. It’s nice to see you.”

“Same here.” Luckily, this person is more friend than foe. I’ve done a few photoshoots with one of Travis’s biggest and brightest hockey stars, Jake December. “I figured I’d run into you here. Nice to see you.”

My tone is flat, not reflecting who I am at all, and both men standing in front of me pick up on it. I can tell by the way they side-eye me before turning their attention to each other.

“Wanted to let you know that I’ve got good news. The Canadian Grizzly Bears want to talk to you about a possible position on their team in the coming season.” His eyes then bounce to me before he turns them back to Noah. “You’d be in Canada most of the year, probably making it a second home. But the money is excellent.” He stands back and crosses his arms, looking pleased with himself. “Can we make time to talk about it tonight?”

Noah’s eyes light up. I can feel his grip on my hand loosening. Funny that.

“I’d like to discuss it more, for sure,” Noah replies, his voice filled with excitement. I can’t blame him. He’s just made the winning point in tonight’s game, had an ex throw herself at him while witnessing another woman stand her ground for her territory, and now he gets an offer to go back to the NHL. Who am I to stand in his way?

But I don’t want him to let go of my hand. I don’t know why, but suddenly this small gesture in the midst of the sudden tornado is everything.

“Great.” Travis pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll text you in an hour and we’ll make a plan to meet up.”

With a quick smile my way, Travis disappears into the throng of people around us as quickly as he appeared.

Noah’s hand tightens around mine and I feel my little brush with anxiety start to melt away.

“So,” he says, stepping closer to me, brushing his lips across my forehead. “What were we talking about?”

Sighing, I open my mouth, ready to share with him all the fears about what Cecilia just said, how she could really take this away from me if she wanted. How it’s bad form for me to have started to be even remotely involved with the subject of a story, but all I can hear are Travis’s words.

“Wait. If you take this contract in Canada you’d live there most of the year, right?”

Noah shrugs. “I guess?”

“What about the camp?”

Noah’s smile fades, his jaw slackening as he looks at me. “I’m not sure. I hope Travis could get that time off for me so I could be a part of the camp still?” His eyes flick over my shoulder and he stares at the crowds around us. “I guess I’d probably not be able to have quite the lead role I think the Hart brothers were envisioning for me to have. I don’t know, I’ll have to ask.”

“I only mention it because you looked so happy talking about it,” I start to say. Only, once again, another person appears by Noah’s side with an agenda.

“Hey, Noah.” A man in a tight business suit stands beside us, nodding toward the player tunnel. “Coach Strickland asked you to be available for the press debrief. Will you come with me?”

Noah’s eyes rock around the tunnel, this super business-like individual, and me. In the back of my mind, even though I need to go back to work and get my last shots taken of the night, I want him to ask me to come with him. Isn’t it crazy? I want him to need me at this moment.

But, life has ways of changing its mind on us. Noah does one more sweep, looking at me, this executive, and the tunnel, and then in slow motion, I feel his hand slip out of mine as he steps away.

“I should go, Willa.” His voice is a little sheepish, but only Iwould know that. This other guy standing here would have no clue that the tone of Noah’s voice had just changed and gone down an octave.

“It’s all good,” I say, recovering quickly. I hold up my camera, reminding him I’m here to do a job, too. “I’ve got some shots to sneak in, then I need to upload before the deadline so they get them on the AP wire.”

The little executive is already making his way down the tunnel. He pauses briefly, waiting for Noah to catch up, then turning and walking away when he sees he’s coming.

My heart feels a little emptier than it did even ten minutes ago.

“Hey, Blackwell,” Noah calls out, using my last name like I’m a buddy. Cute. “Dinner tomorrow night?”

“Sure,” I say back, giving him a wave as he disappears out of my view, into a milling crowd of excited fans still fizzing from his winning goal.

Leaving me to stand alone and wonder if it’s all worth it.

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