EIGHTEEN
Luca
A chuckle rumbles in my chest, watching Max figure out we’re sharing a room. His face is priceless. Only, he’s stomping angrily toward me. I’ve seen that look in a man’s eyes.
Just when I think Max shares the same attraction I feel, it all circles the drain, knowing he’ll never be open about what he feels for me.
Physical or otherwise.
But everyone in the hall is watching Max. The idea of a showdown tightens my gut. I don’t care to get yelled at by everyone’s favorite teammate. Most of the players don’t take notice of the security staff. They don’t know our names, and that’s by design. We protect the team from the shadows and let them be stars.
Ari Kelsey, the tour manager, who handed me my key earlier and gave me the heads-up about the arrangements, steps into Max’s path. He’s in charge on road trips as far as off-ice issues.
“Coach requested the room arrangements,” Kelsey says to Max, and then glances at the crowd watching us. “Guys, get in your rooms and get some sleep. It’s late,” he barks, sounding like a cop.
Nothing to see here.
A sea of faces gives us one last glimpse. After several noticeable shrugs, the whole team disappears into their rooms.
“This is bullshit,” Max says through gritted teeth.
Kelsey glances from me to Max. “Isn’t he living with you? ”
“That’s not the point.” Max exhales.
“I don’t see the problem then,” Kelsey argues.
I wasn’t thrilled when Kelsey mentioned this to me earlier, and knew Max would hate it.
“Ari,” I say to interject. “I didn’t request this. Just get me another room, please.”
“There aren’t more rooms. There’s a damn jewelry show in their ballroom tomorrow. They’re full up.”
Max rolls his eyes. “Next time, give me a heads up. This looks suspicious as hell. Like there’s such a crazy threat out there against the team that their captain needs 24/7 protection.”
“There is,” I mutter.
“But it’s against me,” Max bites out at me. “Not them. They don’t need to worry about me, or for themselves. Some guys have wives and families.”
It’s an intelligent argument even if I see right through him. He just doesn’t want to share a room with me. For a moment, I consider if his objection is because of my confession. I have to respect that.
But Max gives up and shoves the door open, and surprisingly holds it for me.
“Thank you,” I say, passing him. “I didn’t ask for this arrangement, and I’m not sure why your coach wanted it. The hotel has decent security, and you’re surrounded by your guys.”
“Exactly.” He stalks into the room and then gasps. “What the fuck?”
I follow him and stop dead in my tracks.
There’s only one bed...