Page 46 of Power Play Daddies
He shifts his weight, eyes narrowing slightly. “Good.”
The silence between us feels heavy, so I break it with the stupidest question. “Do you… hate me?”
His jaw tightens, and for a second, I think he’s just going to walk away. Instead, he takes a step closer, his eyes searching mine.
“You lied to me,” he says flatly.
“No, I didn’t.” I shake my head, meeting his gaze.
He moves even closer, and now I can smell him—leather and something sharp, like cedar. My stomach twists painfully.
“You fucked me,” he says, voice low, “knowing exactly who I was.”
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “But that wasn’t—it wasn’t like that. I had no idea my uncle would actually agree to me working on the piece for the team. It was never about sleeping with you for a story. I found out that morning—that is why I left. I just…I didn’t know, Beau.”
His brows lift slightly. “Your uncle?”
I nod. “Ace.”
His mouth opens slightly, then closes again. “You’re the coach’s niece.”
“Yeah,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
He drags a hand over the stubble on his cheek, exhaling slowly. “Jesus Christ.”
“It’s complicated,” I say quickly, rushing to explain. “But I can’t be here if you think—if you think I used you like that. If you want to keep things professional, I’ll do it. I just need you to know the truth before you shut me out.”
He doesn’t say anything right away, just pulls out his phone and checks the screen. I wonder if he’s about to brush me off completely, but then he looks back up.
“Tell me about this piece,” he says.
The request takes me by surprise. “What?”
“This article you’re working on,” he says, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Tell me about it.”
I blink, trying to collect my thoughts. “Oh. Uh… yeah. So, of course you know now that I’m a sports journalist for theMiami Herald. The paper’s been going through some shifts—layoffs, restructuring, all that. My boss thinks an exclusive on the Miami Icemen could be a big deal.”
He listens, his expression unreadable, but something shifts in his eyes as I keep talking. “It’s not just about the stats or the game,” I explain. “It’s about the players, the culture, what makes this team different.”
His gaze softens slightly. “You really care about this, don’t you?”
I nod. “Yeah. I do.”
He nods back, almost imperceptibly. “Okay. At least I understand now.”
Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived because then he says, “About the thing in the locker room…”
I groan internally and point back toward where Mason’s car just drove off. “I know. He explained.”
Beau’s lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “Good. Good.”
There’s another beat of silence, and then he says, “It was nice seeing you, Daisy.”
“You too,” I reply, my voice a little shakier than I’d like.
He adjusts his bag again and steps around me. “I’ve gotta go. Can’t be late for practice.”
“Okay.” The word barely leaves my lips before I add, “Wait.”
