Page 54 of Slap Shot Scandal
“Super. I was hoping the two of you would hit it off. She’s going to need your full support.”
“You’ve got the right man for the job, Mr. Prince. Weston understands the assignment.” Bennett slings his arm around my shoulder in a showy act of brotherly love, and I desperately want to tell him to fuck off.
Instead, I nod and try not to grimace at Bennett’s nuanced statement. I’m not sure Prince would be thrilled at how well Harbor and I hit it off this afternoon.
Clearing my dry throat, I force myself to respond. “Understood, sir. Happy to help any way I can.”
Bennett punches me in the back, right in the lat, but I ignore him.
Asshole.
After this, I’m definitely taking the bigger bedroom.
“I know I can count on you. All of you.” Prince glances at each of us. “Best decision I ever made for this team was drafting the three of you. A few owners thought it was a rookie move. They’re all regretting their life choices now.”
Pride surges through me. At least he’s happy with our performance on the ice, even if we didn’t bring home the Cup.
“Grab some food.” Prince gestures at a buffet in the far corner of the room. “We’ll talk business later, once Harbor gets here.”
Prince waves at some of the other players walking in and moves off to greet them. I stalk toward the buffet, Bennett and Callum following in my wake.
“What was that about?” Callum keeps his voice low so only the three of us can hear. “What am I missing?”
“Nothing. Bennett’s being his usual dickhead self,” I grumble, not wanting to get into the details here.
“I’m offended.” Bennett grabs a plate and loads it up with chicken wings. “It’s notnothingexactly, bro.”
I scowl over at him. “Drop it, Bennett. We’ll talk about it later.”
“Did something happen between you and Harbor?” Callum takes the silver tongs from my hand, one brow arched.
Dammit. I can’t lie straight to my brother’s face.
I drop my voice to a whisper. “We kissed. Once. Doesn’t mean anything’s happening.”
Even as I utter the words, I know they’re bullshit. That kiss meant something. At least to me.
And I’m pretty sure to Harbor too, judging by how fast she bolted from the locker room.
Lines were crossed. Now everything’s blurry, messy.
Not how I operate.
Callum doesn’t comment, his lips pressed in a thin line and his brow furrowed. He’s the opposite of smartass Bennett, always firing shots. Callum’s capable of being discreet—a word not in Bennett’s vocabulary.
We move down the line and fill our plates with salad, calamari, fried shrimp, and mini burgers, then head to an empty high top. A waitress comes by and we each order a beer. Still no sign of Harbor, and the room’s packed. Most of the team’s here, along with the GM and a few front office people I vaguely recognize.
“So what’s your plan? You gonna tell Prince?” Callum finally asks, stabbing a leaf of lettuce.
I shrug. “No plan. We haven’t talked since. For all I know, it was a one-time thing.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” Bennett snickers and I glower at him.
“I don’t know. This rebrand means a lot to her.” I steeple my fingers, trying to transfer the tension in my chest to somewhere else—anywhere else.
“You don’t think she’d risk it on you?” Bennett knocks my elbow, sloshing beer across the table and ignoring the fact he just launched a grenade into my gut.
“I’m not sure.” My voice is tight. “Can we drop it?”
