Page 43 of Crush
She gave me a pained smile. “Yes. Everything's fine.”
My eyes focused on the road ahead.
I know she's not telling me the truth …
***
I handed the Bentley's keys to the valet, and Brynn and I walked up the red carpet and into the convention center. Members of the media stood outside the convention center, snapping pictures of us as we walked up the carpet.
“I thought this was a private event for your team?” Brynn whispered to me as the bright white camera flashes exploded around us.
“Itisprivate,” I answered. “But the whole organization is invited to these. Everyone who works for the Brawlers' parent company, not just the athletes. Members of the media show up, too.”
“I see.”
We stepped into the cozy, cocoon-like atmosphere of the convention center. A hundred different lively conversations were softened by the static sound of rushing water, thanks to an enormous bowl fountain in the middle of the venue. Columns and arches supported a second-level mezzanine, where one could get a better view of the domed and ornately-detailed ceiling. The polished marble floors sparkled, reflecting the warm lights.
Wide-eyed, Brynn took in all the sights and sounds. “Oh wow. It's so beautiful here.”
“It's supposed to resemble a fifteenth-century Italian courtyard,” I said.
She giggled. “How specific. I had no idea you were a cultured man.”
“Don't get your hopes up; I'm no historian. I've just read the inscription on the plaque every year I've come to this thing.” I saw some familiar faces milling around by the fountain. “Hey, you ready to meet the jerks I have to spend all my time with?”
“Sure.”
I offered Brynn my arm. She took it and I escorted her to the fountain. “Guys, I want you to meet Brynn.”
“That's Lance and his wife, Paige.”
Brynn shook their hands.
“That's Radar and his wife, Ella. Ella is Lance's younger sister.”
Brynn shook their hands, too.
“That's Ilya and his girlfriend, tennis star Natalya Anasenko.”
“How do you do,” Natalya said in her husky Russian accent.
“An athlete couple! How neat!” Brynn repeated as she shook Natalya and Ilya's hands.
“In Russia, Natalya bigger star than me!” Ilya exclaimed. “Believe it or not!”
Our teammates laughed and slapped at Ilya's back. “You're a nobody in Russia, comrade!”
The intros continued. “That's Stoner, that's Brooksy, and somewhere around here are their ladies . . .”
Well, you get the idea. Brynn had approximately twenty-five hockey player names to remember, and then the names of their significant others—and that was just the hockey-side of things. But if she felt overwhelmed or out of place here, she didn't show it. She moved so gracefully and elegantly.
Thankfully, none of my teammates said anything weird right off the bat. But I didn't like the way the guys had a habit of looking at Brynn and then looking at me. It felt so obvious—like they were trying to see if there reallywassomething between us.
“So Brynn,” Lance began at last. “I hear you're quite the miracle worker with kids. Boomer's been talking about you a lot.”
Brynn looked at me. “Boomer …?”
“Yeah, that's my newest nickname,” I muttered.
