Page 19 of Slap Shot Scandal
Lucky me.
“Sure. The team name is the Coastal Crushers.”
Loud murmurs fill the room as the media digests the new name, discussing amongst themselves.
“Do you have a mascot yet?” a man shouts from the back, smirking.
Asshole.
“Not yet.”
“Maybe the Terrible Turtles?” He snickers and I grit my teeth, struggling to keep my composure. It’s bad enough we lost the playoffs, then our coach. Now some dickhead from the press is gonna sit here and mock me and the team straight to my face?
I’ve had about all I can handle for one day.
Harbor must sense my worsening mood. Her soft, smooth arm brushes mine as she steps up to the podium and gratitude surges through me as she lowers the microphone again.
“Thanks for the suggestion, Kent. I’ll take it under advisement. Are there any other serious questions?” She scans the room, waiting. No one else dares raise their hand or offer any other stupid mascot ideas. “No? Okay then. Thanks for coming. Have a great rest of the day.”
Harbor clicks the microphone off, then spins on her heel and exits the room briskly, her ass swaying side to side. I follow behind her, trying hard not to stare at the perfect globes in front of me.
It’s really fucking difficult.
We shove out into the hall, Prince right behind, and Harbor closes the door on the media with a definitive snap.
“Nice work, you two.” Prince tips his chin at us, unbuttoning his jacket and relaxing a bit. “That went about as well as could be expected. Thanks for shutting down the gambling speculation, Harbor. Legal will be sending a memo out with details, but it goes without saying that the only thing anyone should say about the matter is ‘No comment.’”
“Understood.” I wipe my palms on my thighs and take a deep breath, my heart rate finally coming back into the normal range.
“I know it’s been a full day and there’s packing to do. Table the mascot discussion for the plane ride on Friday.”
“Plane ride on Friday?” I frown at Prince.
“Yes. Both of you should fly with me down to Floridaon the jet. You can work on the way there. The sooner I get this team out of the city, the better.”
Prince nods as if he’s settled the matter, then strides off, not waiting for a response from either of us. Harbor and I stand in the hallway, the low din of the press floating through the door, an awkward silence stretching between us.
“You did well out there, Weston.” Harbor breaks the tension, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.
“Thanks. I appreciate the assist.”
“Sure, no problem.”
We lock eyes for a long second and my stomach does a weird swoopy thing.Must be my nervous system regulating after the adrenaline surge from the press conference…
“What do you think about the Fighting Terrapins?” She tilts her head, long, blond hair flowing over her shoulder.
“No. No turtle. Fighting or otherwise.”
She laughs, a light, melodic sound floating on the air, and there’s that same swoopy sensation again.
Steele, get it together.
“Fine. With you as captain, maybe I should lean more toward a crab.” Her full lips tip up into a smirk, then she spins on her heels and struts away. Leaving me standing in the hallway, speechless and staring at her perfect ass.
CHAPTER 6
HARBOR
