Page 23 of Power Play Daddies
His gaze locks on the lens, and I snap a few shots, the clicks of the camera echoing in the silence.
“Okay,” I say, lowering the camera. “We’re done.”
He steps back, already turning to leave.
“Beau, wait.”
He stops but doesn’t face me.
“We need to talk,” I say softly.
He exhales sharply, like the effort of staying is physically painful. “What’s there to talk about? You got your scoop. Now I’ve got nothing to say.”
His tone is frigid, and before I can respond, he’s gone.
I spend the rest of the day trying to shake off the encounter, but it lingers like a storm cloud.
Back at my laptop, I compile questions for the sports piece, my fingers flying over the keys. But no matter how hard I focus, my mind keeps drifting back to Beau—his anger, his coldness, and the way his eyes refused to meet mine.
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
If he thinks he can just shut me out like that, he’s got another think coming.
It’s almost noon, and my stomach growls loud enough to make me wince.
I shut my laptop, satisfied that the questions for Janice are done. At least that part is handled. She’ll probably rip them apart, but for now, I’ve got a lead, and that’s enough.
I toss my camera bag over my shoulder and glance at my phone. Lunch. That’s the plan. But first, I want to swing by Ace’s office. Let him know things are running smoothly—or as smoothly as they can when I’ve got Beau fucking Callahan ignoring me like I don’t exist.
The Miami Ice Arena is quiet, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound as I make my way to Ace’s office. I knock once and push the door open.
“Hey, Ace.”
He looks up from his laptop, his ever-present clipboard resting on the desk. “Daisy, how’s it going? Everything good?”
I nod, setting my bag down on the chair. “Yeah, the equipment’s in the media room. Is it secure in there?”
Ace waves me off. “All the rooms are locked up after hours. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Good, because if someone swipes my lights, I’m billing the team,” I joke, but he chuckles like I’m serious.
“Daisy, meet Leo Vega,” Ace says, motioning to the man standing near the file cabinet.
Leo turns and extends a hand, his grip firm. “Assistant coach. Nice to meet you.”
“Daisy Love,” I reply, smiling. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Leo leans against the cabinet, crossing his arms. “So, how long have you been a journalist?”
“Oh, a few years now,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I’ve always loved theMiami Herald. It was my dream to work there ever since I was a kid.”
“And your dad?” Leo asks.
The mention of him makes my stomach twist. But my dad was a local legend of sorts, so I’m not too surprised. I glance at Ace, who suddenly seems very interested in his clipboard.
“Yeah, my dad was big into sports,” I say, forcing a smile and avoiding my uncle completely. “He’s the reason I’m here, I guess.”
Leo nods but doesn’t push. “Well, most of the players have left for the day, but there might still be a few in the locker room. You planning to take more pictures? Have you been to the locker room yet?”
