Page 41 of Power Play Pursuit

“Wait,” Marissa says, her blue eyes studying me. “Is this really because of what happened between you and Lucas? Was James, like, retaliating because Lucas cheated on you?”

I wring my hands in front of me. Might as well come clean now. It’s not like it can get any worse. “Not exactly. Lucas came here the night before the game, when I was closing. He was insistent and grabbed my wrist,” I say, showing them the remnant of the pink mark lacing my wrist. “James saw it the next morning, put two and two together, and used the game as a chance to go after him.”

“Whoa,” Alice breathes out.

“See?” Marissa says, shaking her head. “The whole friends thing isn’t going to cut it.”

“Exactly. The guy ended up in the hospital for you,” Alice says, probably swooning over his grand gesture or whatever. This girl is way too romantic.

I cross my arms in front of me. “Well, I didn't ask him to.”

“I mean,” she continues, “we always knew he had a thing for you. It's not like it’s a secret. But this is definitely next level, right?”

“Definitely,” Emma and Marissa agree.

“Touch Her and Die vibes, for sure,” Emma adds.

I arch an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a little dramatic?”

She flicks her hair. “You know me. Queen of Drama. I am a dark romance gal, after all.”

Marissa and Alice both chuckle, and I let my gaze drift, trying to make sense of all the emotions whirling in my head. Is it really that different from his usual playful flirting? I guess it is a step up. But if that’s the case, could it be more than just a little crush for him?

His words from earlier echo in my head. “I’m a patient man.”

Part of me wishes I could just see where this leads us. Let myself fall for another man. Another hockey player. But I can’t. I’d never feel secure with James. He’s ten times the flirt Lucas is, and look where that got me. He hugs every fan who asks, and even if it’s a sweet gesture, and I love that about him, I’d never be able to fully trust him. I wasn’t exaggerating earlier. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for another relationship, and that scares me. And if I do ever get there, will he still be waiting?

I’m sweeping the floor when a knock raps at the door. The noise startles me, despite the loud music I have blasting on the speakers. When I turn around, I see James with a bright smile on his face. I pause the music and unlock the door.

“Hey. I’m not done yet.”

“No worries,” he says, squeezing through the doorframe. “I know I’m early. Walked as slowly as I could,” he jokes.

“How was your day?” I ask, locking the door behind him. I’ve learned my lesson.

“Meh. Saw my housekeeper for the third time in five years. Played video games with the guys. Ran some errands.”

“Slow day?” I say with a smile.

He nods. “Slow day. Can I help you? I could use the cardio.”

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I can sweep a floor, Elizabeth. When they say ‘no exercise,’ they’re talking to regular people, not athletes. This is peanuts to me.”

I chew my bottom lip, then nod. “Okay. You take the broom. I’ll clean the espresso machine.”

“Perfect. And feel free to turnthat music back on.”

I grin, pressing play on my phone before getting started on the machine. After a few minutes, I hear James singing, his voice getting louder and louder. I turn around, and there he is, singing with the broom as a microphone. He’s swaying to the music with all his heart, not caring if anyone outside witnesses his impromptu concert. Actually, bystanders would probably be into it, screaming his name at the top of their lungs as if he were a rockstar. That’s the James effect for you. An instant magnet with the ultimate charisma.

“Come on,” he shouts, a smile lighting up his face. “This would be even better as a duet.”

Chuckling, I turn back to the machine, continuing my task. “You’re insane.”

He keeps going, singing at the top of his lungs and changing the lyrics to “She’s so mean, letting me sing on my own. She doesn’t want to have fun, doesn’t want to release the pressure.”

I do my best to withhold my laughter, but he keeps going, and I eventually crack. Finally, I sing, matching his volume, and he stops. I wheel around, grabbing a bottle of water from the counter to act as my microphone.

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