Page 56 of Slap Shot Scandal
It’s just anxiety over tomorrow. Has nothing to do with the hockey star watching me from across the room. Or that kiss in the locker room.
A mistake.
A delicious, tempting mistake.
But not one I can risk making again.
Not if I want to keep my job. Not to mention doing my best work and proving myself to my father.
I can’t afford to take my eye off the prize.
Even if the distraction is downright drool-worthy. That sharp jawline, the way his muscles ripple when he flexes. And his scent, like a dark, manly forest I want to get lost in.
Harbor, focus.
This is exactly the sort of thing my dad would reprimand me for. Getting so caught up in a player that I can’t keep my mind on the job. Elite hockey professionals don’t get distracted by players. Success at this level requires unwavering focus, and here I am getting caught up in personal complications.
Not ideal.
“Tomorrow morning before the presser I’ll be introducing the new head coach to the team. I’d like you to be there, snap some photos for social media.” Prince pulls his cell out of his pocket and checks his schedule. “Locker room, ten AM.”
Shit.
Of course the meet-and-greet’s in the freaking locker room. Hopefully I’ll be able to keep my mind on the job—and off of what happened there with Weston.
“Got it.” I update my calendar, nerves coursing through me.
Clink, clink, clink.
Prince taps the side of his glass with a knife, commanding the room’s attention. Since I’m beside him, all eyes are on me. My face flames and I stare straight ahead.
“I’ll keep this short.” Prince’s smooth voice is authoritative. “Many of you have already met Harbor Hayes. For those who haven’t had the pleasure—or have been hiding in the weight room—Harbor’s the reason we haven’t completely imploded.”
A ripple of laughter goes up, but Weston’s not smiling. His expression’s painfully neutral and my stomach clenches.
“She’s our PR secret weapon. Smart, strategic, and tougher than most of you.”
More laughter and I low-key want to duck into the restroom right now. I clasp my hands in front of me and plaster a smile on my face.
“She’s been working around the clock to clean up the last few months, and frankly, we’re lucky to have her.”
Prince heaps on the praise and heat prickles at the back of my neck. I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with Weston. I’m unsure of his reaction to all of this—and I’m not sure I want to know.
“She’ll be with us through the upcoming season.” Prince raises his glass. “So if she asks you for something,give it to her. She’s here to help us turn the page. That means full access, full trust, full respect.”
These words hit me hard, the air knocked from my lungs.
The validation I’ve been craving—not specifically from Prince. But the hockey world in general. For one brief moment, I feel like I’ve made it, I’m finally in the club. Proof I’m here on merit, not just bloodline.
The team claps and nods, raising their drinks. I smile politely, even though I’m slightly embarrassed by the praise.
Finally, I bring myself to take a quick glance over at Weston. His jaw’s tight as he lifts his glass, tipping it at me.
I need a minute to regroup.
“Thank you, Mr. Prince. I appreciate the warm intro.” I touch his arm, his suit jacket silky smooth and clearly expensive.
“Absolutely. You’ve more than earned it.”
