Chapter 5
Holly
“Come on, PR, at least one beer,” Tucker said, sliding a sweating bottle toward me across the scarred table. “You came all this way.”
The bar smelled like old frying oil, old beer, and stale cigarette smoke. I’d barely been standing here five minutes before a chorus of cheers had gone up for someone behind me. The whole room pulsed with rowdy locals chirping the Surge guys in good humor, neon signs buzzing.
“I’m working,” I said, keeping my voice even as I scanned the corner booth.
Hunter sat across from me, with Mason Calder beside him, and Theo tipped back in his chair.
The captain, Grayson, and his girlfriend occupied the end of the bench on our side.
He didn’t seem too bothered with her being glued to her phone, glossy nails scrolling with a casualness only someone used to being watched could pull off.
Theo stopped rocking long enough to slide the beer closer to me. “If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll keep an eye on Hunter tonight.”
“Yeah,” Grayson added. “After what you pulled off at the shirt ceremony, you’ve earned it.”
Hunter sat up, gaping at his teammates and friends. “The correct response is, ‘Hunter doesn’t need to be looked after like some kid’. I thought I could count on you guys.”
They sniggered into their own drinks, none of them ready to take on that argument.
“Well, you were the one who said I should make sure you behaved,” I replied, immediately hating how much like a hall monitor it sounded. Hated even more the looks I got from the others at the table.
A smirk tugged Theo’s lips, and he said, “You know that’s not the real reason he asked you here, right?”
Theo Bouchard, Surge defenseman. His Quebec accent turned the simple question into something soft and teasing. I hadn’t studied up much about the team, but I knew he was often the instigator behind Hunter’s off-ice shenanigans. Drinking buddies, is how Bob explained it.
“Excuse me?” I turned to face him fully. These guys were all the same. Always ready to hand it out, but not so quick to take it back.
“Nothing. Never mind.” And he hid behind an extra-long sip of his beer.
I caught Hunter’s eye for a fraction of a second, and saw all I needed to see. He was my charge, but still part of this team with a reputation. Me sitting here like a sour school teacher wasn’t helping what was supposed to be a celebration.
“Fine,” I said. “One beer.”
A cheer went up from the table and I felt my face heat up. I took a sip and let the icy bitterness loosen my shoulders and warm my chest. I supposed a little help to survive the night out with this crew would come in handy.
Mason tipped his chin toward me. “The press circus today… that was all you, wasn’t it? You could’ve given me a million guesses, and I never would’ve thought of Trey coming out there to hand him the jersey.”
“Just doing my job,” I said, glancing at Hunter. I couldn’t tell whether he looked proud or annoyed.
“That was more than your job.” He took a sip and when he placed the bottle back down, he wasn’t looking at me anymore. “Trey was a lost cause when he walked out on us, and you fixed it. I still don’t know how.”
The acknowledgment startled me enough that I could only think to take another swig. “You’re welcome. Maybe next time show a little trust.”
The girlfriend, Josie, finally looked up from her phone. “You’re going to have to get used to it,” she said to me, her tone friendly but blunt. “This one’s allergic to soundbites. He’s even tougher to break in than Grayson.”
She nudged Grayson with her elbow, who rolled his eyes but gave in with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, but tonight isn’t about me.”
“I’m not allergic,” Hunter said, and there was a faint curve at his mouth that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m selective, that’s all.”
Josie laughed. “That’s one word for it.”
“Stubborn is the one I’d pick,” I said, and she laughed harder.
Theo leaned closer to me. “We all know you’re good at PR, Miss PR, but the real question is… can you throw a dart?”
I glanced toward the back of the bar where a battered dartboard hung under a crooked neon sign. “Can’t say. I haven’t thrown one since college.”
“Perfect,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “These clowns never let me win. You’ll be my opponent tonight so I can leave with my ego in one piece. Let’s go.”
“I’m not—”
“Just one round,” he cut in. His accent turned “round” into something other-worldly that crawled along my arms. Effects of the beer, maybe. Or maybe he had a certain charm about him. Maybe they all did.
I hesitated but slid out of the booth, chalking up that last thought to the beer. Definitely the beer. Hunter watched, evaluating as if he was trying to decide whether to join or not.
Theo handed me a set of darts as we reached the board. “Like riding a bike. Just point and throw.”
“I can’t ride a bike either,” I muttered under my breath.
I lined up, aimed, and threw. The dart thunked into the wood frame two inches from the board.
Theo made a low noise. “Okay, maybe not exactly like that.”
Another try. This time it bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor. Behind me, Mason whistled. “You show that wall, PR.”
“We should check if they have insurance on the paint job.” And Tucker laughed so hard it got the others going too.
“One more try, and then it’s my turn,” Theo said. “I promise I’ll be nice about annihilating you.”
I felt someone step up behind me and before I could turn, Hunter’s voice was low in my ear. “Here. Like this.”
He reached around me, not touching, just close enough that the heat of him threaded through my blazer. “Instead of your wrist, use your shoulder. Line it up like this.”
Hunter took my hand in his and slowly traced the motion I should follow through the air.
The noise of the bar dimmed as I focused on the warm tingling that started up in my fingertips.
Somewhere in the distance, the guys were still ragging me.
Probably Hunter too. But I couldn’t make out anything other than the tickle of breath on my ear and how goddamn gentle his touch was.
For someone who gripped a stick the way he did.
“Got it?”
“I– I think so,” I said, steadier than I felt and felt a little sorry to have him step away and give me space to take my shot.
Yeah, definitely the beer.
I drew back, let out a slow breath, and threw. The dart stuck—not center, but on the board at least.
“There you go,” he said with an approving smile.
Josie’s voice cut in from the booth. “Look at you, coach.”
Hunter stepped back, his expression flicking toward her with a dry humor I recognized instantly as restraint. “Just trying to keep my PR rep from embarrassing herself.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the small flicker of satisfaction in my chest. “Thanks for the lesson.”
“You’re a quick study,” he chided, taking a smug sip of his beer.
“Not a bad time for you to pick up some tips on that.” I meant it as a joke, but it didn’t land, judging by the shadow that crossed Hunter’s face.
Thankfully, Theo was there to diffuse the tension. He stepped up to take his turn. “You’re gonna need more than a semi-okay goalie to salvage this game.”
The guys jeered, shouted bets, the bar a blur of movement and noise around us. Josie had leaned across Grayson’s lap to yell advice at Theo, her laugh ringing out. She looked at me once, her expression measuring, but then she winked like we were co-conspirators.
“Not bad,” Hunter murmured as I lined up another dart.
I focused on the board, ignoring the warmth creeping up my neck. “Just following instructions.”
Another throw. It landed closer to the bullseye this time, and Theo groaned dramatically. “She’s learning too fast.”
The noise swelled, someone ordered another round, and for the first time since walking in, I felt the edges of the room soften. I was still working, but the beer, the game, and Hunter’s unexpected patience had threaded something warmer through the night.
By the time I sank the last dart into the soft felt of the board, my beer was warm and the back of the bar smelled like sweat and cheap tequila. Theo threw his final shot wild, muttered something in French, and set his darts down.
“Beginner’s luck,” he said.
“Sure,” I replied. “Luck.”
We drifted back to the corner booth, the team loud and sprawling. Josie had her phone propped up on a glass, camera angled at the group.
“Okay, guys, one quick video,” she said, voice bright. “This is going to kill on Reels. Two seconds, I promise.”
Grayson groaned but slid closer to her. “Do we have to?”
“Yes,” she said. “We’re doing the Surge Shuffle. Mason, Hunter, get your asses over here.”
I plucked her phone from the table and handed it back to her. “No photos or videos with Hunter unless you clear it with me first.”
“Since when?” He scoffed, not happy about getting dragged into the video but now annoyed that I said no.
“We’ve got a rollout strategy, and random videos mess with the messaging.” I kept my tone firm, even with everyone staring at me like I’d sprouted a third eye in the middle of my forehead.
The celebration vibe around the booth faltered.
“It’s just a dance,” Josie said. “I don’t get how that goes against your messaging.”
“You wouldn’t.” And the air in the bar got sucked away. All eyes were zeroed in on us. “It’s about controlling the brand. Nothing personal.”
There was a moment where I was sure she’d keep going, but Grayson tapped her elbow, and said, “Let’s leave it for another time.”
The others followed his lead as he slid back into the booth, and I felt my resolve waver the slightest bit. It was just a stupid dance. Maybe there was no harm, and no reason for me to have gone so hard in shutting it down.
But before I could get anymore twisted up about taking back what I’d said, Josie tucked her phone away. “Fine. I guess we won’t have any fun tonight.”