Page 64 of Slap Shot Scandal
“Sure. We have enough time to run through the questions. Let’s do it. Take a seat here—” I pull out a chair, patting the fabric. “And I’ll be here. That’s the most likely scenario for an interview like this. It’ll be you, the interviewer, me, and the camera crew. That’s it.”
Weston sinks down into the chair, crossing his feet at the ankles. His posture’s hunched and defensive.
I hop up from my chair, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Chest out, shoulders back, head up. You want to exude confidence.”
He lifts his chin, blue eyes flashing and his jaw set. “Better?”
“Much.” I take my seat again and get into my interviewing position, leaning slightly forward and staring at Weston intensely. The reporter stare, we call it.
He stares right back and my mouth goes dry, butterflies zooming around my belly—and it’s not only from nerves.
This man does something to me.
“So, Weston—how do you feel about the change in leadership? The relocation and new team name?”
“Cutting right to the chase, huh?” Weston’s full lips tip up at the corner as he scrubs a hand over his jaw.
I shrug. “Sorry, but we don’t have much time. Figure I’ll start with the harder questions.”
He nods. “It’s fine. How do I feel about the new leadership? I think Coach Keller could be a great asset to the team.”
“Could be or will be?” I frown at him. “Word choice matters here.”
“Right.” He rubs his face, wiping away the look of doubt. “Coach Keller will be a great asset to the team.”
“Perfect.” I smile at him and he relaxes a touch, sitting back in his chair. “This is your first time playing for a team outside of your hometown of New York City. How are you feeling about the move? Homesick yet?”
Weston hesitates for a second and I pounce, pointing at him. “That. No pausing. Roll right into an answer. Pause in the middle, but never at the beginning of a question. That gives the reporter time to extrapolate and interpret. You don’t want that.”
He huffs out a sigh. “Got it. Ask again.”
I clasp my hands together and lean forward. “This is your first time playing for a team outside of New York. How do you feel about that?”
“It’s new and different.” His eyes lock on mine and myheart hammers hard against my ribcage. “I’m looking forward to the season, seeing what we can accomplish together as a team.”
Not breaking eye contact, I ignore the ripple of electricity coursing through me and forge ahead with the mock interview.
“The Hockey with Heart campaign is something new this season. How do you feel about the team’s commitment to charity? Do you think the campaign’s a publicity ploy to help bolster the team’s image?”
Weston licks his lips, a surefire tell.
“Pause right there.” I hover my finger just over his lips, his breath warm against my skin. For one terrifying second, I forget what I’m about to say. “Don’t do that.”
“What?” His brows knit in confusion.
“Anything with your mouth.” I wave my hand around his face. “It’s a tell. You seem nervous.”
He huffs out a sigh. “Damn, you must be great at poker.”
I have to laugh at that. “I am pretty good. Sit back and try again. Weston, do you think the campaign’s a ploy to help with the team’s tarnished image?”
This time he meets my gaze head-on. “The team’s excited to build strong community ties and we’re looking forward to giving back.”
“Yes!” I beam at him and he finally cracks a smile, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the conference room. “Great answer.”
The door creaks open. “Harbor, we’re on in five. Time to mic up.” One of the sound technicians pops her head in, glancing from me to Weston. I scoot back a little, my cheeks heating. The last thing I want is to give the wrong impression to the crew.
“Got it. We were just rehearsing.” My words come out in a hurried jumble as she hustles over with Weston’s mic. She hands him the earpiece and he shoves it in, then she winds cords around and tucks the receiver box into his back pocket.
