Page 44 of In My Hockey Era
I nod, even though I suddenly feel a littleseen.“Yeah, just taking it all in.”
He’s dressed in a fitted button-down, the sleeves rolled just enough to show off his impressive forearms.The man looks sinfully good in a suit on game nights, but this—this effortless,I just threw this on and still look incrediblething he’s doing—might be even worse for my sanity.
His hair is slightly tousled, his tan somehow deeper under the warm lights, and when he spots me looking, he throws me that easy, lopsided grin that should be illegal.
I pretend I wasn’t staring.“This is nice,” I say, eyeing the long buffet table piled with Southern food and the crowd of players, media, and VIPs mingling with drinks in hand.
Bennett lets out a low whistle.“Smells like heaven.”
A waitress passes by with a tray of cocktails, and he grabs two, handing one to me.I take it, needing something to do with my hands.I don’t normally get nervous at events like this—I talk to players all the time, I work in a high-pressure job—but there’s something aboutthisthat feels different.Like I’m not just here for work, but forhim.
Which is ridiculous.I shake the thought away, focusing instead on the chatter around us.
He watches me for a beat, like he’s about to say something else, but then someone calls his name.He gives me a small, almost knowing smirk before turning to greet whoever it is.
I sip my Tennessee Smash, which is a delicious combination of Jack Daniels whiskey, muddled blackberries, lemonade, and mint leaves.But my eyes keep straying over to Bennett.I should not be noticing how good he looks.
But it’s impossible not to.He’s huge and even in a room full of hockey players, he’s the only one I see.
He makes his way back over to me and hands me an appetizer plate with a barbeque slider.“You’ve got to try one of these.Mango barbeque sauce—so good,” he confirms.
I accept the plate, gratefully because I’m pretty sure the whiskey cocktail has already gone straight to my head.
A few players and staff come over to greet Bennett, and I mostly hang back, nibbling my sandwich, until one of them—a grizzled former enforcer turned analyst—gives me a once-over and smirks.
“So, this is the latest PR play, Wilder?”he asks, nudging Bennett as he looks me over.
The comment is so casual, so offhanded, but it makes my stomach drop.
Bennett just chuckles.“Something like that,” he jokes, taking a sip of his drink.
I freeze.
The guys laugh and the conversation moves on, but I can’t shake the sting of it.
Latest PR play.Fun distraction.Like I’m just some convenient storyline for him, something temporary, easily dismissed.
And worse—he didn’t even defend me.
For the rest of the night, I feel myself pulling back, my smile a little tighter, my responses more clipped.And when we step away from the group, I can’t hold it in anymore.
“You really didn’t have a problem with that comment?”I ask, keeping my voice even.
Bennett frowns.“What comment?”
I cross my arms.“The one about me being a PR stunt.”
He lets out a breath, shaking his head.“Quinn, it was a joke.That guy busts my balls all the time.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t just aboutyou, was it?”
He studies me, his jaw tightening.“Okay,” he says slowly.“What’s really going on here?”
I exhale sharply, frustrated that he doesn’t get it.“It’s just—this is exactly why I was hesitant about all of this.Why I didn’t want to be part of this whole book club PR thing in the first place.Because now I’m just… some storyline to people.A punchline.”
His brows draw together.“Come on, you’re overthinking this.”
“No, I’m not.”My pulse kicks up.“You don’t get it, Bennett.You’ll always be taken seriously.No one will ever question if you belong.But me?I have to fight to be seen as credible every single day.And now, because of this, people think I’m just some fan getting special treatment, or—or that I’m here because ofyou.”
