He snorts, the sound more amused than annoyed. “Nah.”

The doors open again, and I step out slightly ahead of him.

“Never even dreamed about places like Europe before the Coyotes. And since joining the team…” He shrugs.

I want to ask him what that means. Why hasn’t he taken a trip?

“There’s my girl!” Dad’s voice rumbles over me.

Talon shuffles back a step as I turn and smile at Dad. He walks toward me, his arms outstretched, as if it’s been weeks since he’s seen me instead of at breakfast this morning.

I meet him halfway, hugging him hello. “Your truck is fine,” I assure him.

Dad tips his head back and laughs, probably relieved I’m still capable of joking. “Thank God. I was getting worried.”

“You were not.” I smack his arm lightly.

I step out of Dad’s embrace and note Talon studying us, a line pinched between his brows.

“You met Miller,” Dad grunts.

“Yep,” I say.

Talon dips his chin, his eyes still on me. “See you around, Leni,” he says easily. Casually.

And yet, something about his tone tugs deep in my stomach.

Something about him unnerves me, and I have no idea what it is.

“See you,” I reply.

Talon glances at Dad. “Until tomorrow, Coach.”

“Take it easy, Miller,” Dad replies, looking down at me. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” I admit. I’ve barely eaten today. Or for the past few days. Maybe longer.

But from the corner of my eye, I watch as Talon retreats. Even steps, casual gait, and…swagger.

For years, I’ve found my dad’s players handsome. But Talon Miller is downright hot. Sinful. Sexy.

And the realization is more than surprising.

It’s alarming.

Confusing.

“Good. A new steakhouse just opened not too far from here,” Dad continues. “Let me grab my bag from the office.”

“Okay.”

Talon pushes into the stairwell, but he glances back right before he steps through. Our eyes connect.

Stormy gray thunderclouds hold me hostage.

I suck in a breath, and that smirk tugs across his full mouth.

Then, he enters the stairwell, the door swings closed, and I remember to breathe.