Page 12 of Bar Down

"Twenty says there's something else entirely happening between those two," Kane countered with a knowing grin that made Stephanie's cheeks heat unexpectedly.

"Focus, children," she said sharply, channeling Coach Vicky's tone. "The point is, we're all in this together. No one gets left behind."

The conversation gradually dissolved as Liam announced a round of shots for everyone except "Spreadsheets, who's probably calculating the liver damage." The team scattered—some to the kitchen for drinks, others to the impromptu dance floor where Rookie Ethan was attempting to teach Chenny some Russian dance move, still others to the beer pong table where a heated tournament continued.

Stephanie drifted to the edge of the deck, her professional vigilance temporarily exhausted.

The deck offered a stunning view of the harbor, lights reflecting on the dark water. She leaned against the railing, letting the cool evening air clear her head while the bass thumped behind her and periodic roars erupted from what sounded like Mateo challenging Jax to a pushup contest.

This wasn't how she'd envisioned her career unfolding. At thirty-two, she should have been in New York or Los Angeles by now, running PR for a major franchise or sports corporation. That had been the plan—until Preston Reed had derailed everything.

She rubbed her arms against a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. Three years later, and that asshole’s name still triggered that same cold knot in her stomach. The man who'd promised to mentor her, then tried to destroy her career when she'd refused his advances. The man whose analytics obsession had given her a deep distrust of data-driven approaches to anything human.

The man whose friends still held influence marketing departments all along the East Coast.

"You're cold."

Stephanie startled at Marcus's voice beside her. Before she could respond, he was offering his jacket—a charcoal blazer that he'd somehow kept immaculate despite Dmitri's earlier attempt to spill beer on everyone.

"I'm fine," she started to protest, but he draped it over her shoulders anyway. The weight of it was unexpectedly comforting, the lingering cedar scent oddly intimate.

"Thanks," she amended, pulling it closer.

"It's dropped about twelve degrees since sunset," he said, as if he needed to justify the gesture.

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the harbor lights while behind them the party reached new levels of hockey player chaos—someone had started a chant, and the stomping threatened to collapse Kane's deck.

She recalled the last time they'd been this close outside work—three months ago at the team Christmas party, when they'd accidentally found themselves under mistletoe. The awkward moment had passed with nothing more than knowing looks from teammates, but she'd thought about that near-miss more often than she cared to admit.

"You did well in there," she finally said. "With the team."

"You too."

"We make a surprisingly effective duo."

Marcus's expression remained neutral, but she caught a slight shift in his stance—a relaxation that most people would miss.

"The question is whether we can keep it up with Darby & Darby," he said. "Their approach will hit your communication style hard."

"And boost yours."

He tilted his head, considering. "Not exactly. I include the human factors. Their models strip all that away."

Stephanie turned to face him fully, surprised. "You're telling me you don't agree with a pure numbers approach?"

"Numbers without context are useless. Data needs interpretation." His eyes met hers directly. "That's something I've figured out from our disagreements."

The admission caught her completely off guard. Marcus acknowledging he'd learned something from their battles? The world really was turning upside down.

"Well," she managed, "I suppose I've picked up a few things too. Like maybe not all stats are bullshit."

"Does this mean you'll stop calling my player development tracking 'robot evaluations'?"

"Let's not get crazy," she replied with a small smile. "But I might consider them alongside my human intelligence."

The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile. On anyone else, it would have been nothing. On Marcus's usually impassive face, it was practically a declaration.

"Progress," he said simply.

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