Page 17 of Bar Down

"Good." Coach checked her watch. "Ice in fifteen. You all know what's at stake for this road trip."

As the meeting broke up, players began their pre-practice routines. Stephanie gathered her notes, professionally satisfied with how the discussion had gone but personally rattled by Marcus's unexpected support.

"Stephanie."

She turned to find him standing nearby, two coffee cups in hand. He offered one to her, the movement highlighting the flex of his forearm.

"Chesapeake Coffee, medium roast, room for cream," he said matter-of-factly. “And a blueberry muffin.” He handed her a bag.

Stephanie accepted it, their fingers brushing in the exchange. The brief contact sent a spark up her arm. "Thank you. Though I'm beginning to wonder if I should be concerned about how closely you're tracking my food and drink."

A hint of a smile touched his lips. "Observation, not tracking. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Tracking implies surveillance. Observation is simply noticing."

Something in his tone made her look up sharply. His dark eyes were steady behind his glasses, holding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.

"And you notice a lot, don't you?" she asked, hearing the slight huskiness in her voice.

"I notice what matters."

The simple statement hung between them, loaded with implications neither of them seemed ready to address. Stephanie took a sip of coffee to hide her reaction. It was perfectly prepared—just the right amount of cream.

"Your support in there," she said, changing the subject, "about the community programs. I didn't expect that."

"It was factually accurate."

"But not the cold analytics perspective I've come to expect."

Marcus considered this. "Perhaps your expectations need updating."

Before she could respond, Chenny called from across the room, needing her input on a social media question. Stephanie hesitated, strangely reluctant to end the conversation.

"We should continue our strategy discussion," she said. "For the presentation to ownership."

Marcus nodded. "My place? After practice? I have the data infrastructure already set up."

The suggestion was perfectly reasonable, perfectly professional. So why did images of his apartment—of being alone with him in a private space—send a rush of heat through her body?

"Text me the address," she said, already turning away. "I'll bring dinner."

As she crossed to Chenny, Stephanie was acutely aware of Marcus's eyes following her. In fact, she had the distinct impression he was watching her walk away with more than professional interest.

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