10. Harbor
HARBOR
T hat was a close one.
I stalk away from the elevator, flushed and out of sorts.
Gia has Weston and Bennett cornered at the front desk.
Her dark head’s bobbing, hands waving wildly through the air.
Probably trying to explain the power outage and convince Weston the building’s up to code and the hockey team won’t get stuck in the elevator on game day.
I take the opportunity to slink away unnoticed. I’m not in the mood to defend myself to Weston’s brother or stand by while Gia shamelessly flirts with Weston.
I’m entirely too flustered to do either. My heart’s still racing, working hard to keep pace with my mind.
If the power hadn’t come back on, I’m pretty sure Weston and I would have kissed.
And that would have been a gigantic mistake.
I could lose this job, my reputation, everything I’ve worked so hard for.
Champions don’t let personal feelings cloud professional judgment.
Getting involved with Weston would prove my father’s point—personal feelings disqualify me from this job.
Years of effort and sacrifice, gone in minutes.
And for what? A fling with the pro hockey star with an attitude problem?
Because nothing real could happen between us. I mean, I haven’t had a serious boyfriend since college. Clearly, my judgment’s lacking in the relationship department.
And I feel like I’m losing my grip again. Maybe it’s the stress of the transition, coupled with the Florida heat and humidity.
Maybe it’s Weston’s stupidly oversized biceps and rock-hard abs, that sharp jawline and his sexy as fuck smirk.
Doesn’t matter what’s causing me to lose my edge. All I know is I need to keep my eyes on the rebrand—and off of Weston Steele.
All of him.
No matter how freaking gorgeous he is.
And also maybe—secretly, deep-down—a nice guy.
Ugh. If he starts being nice to me, I’m definitely going to lose my resolve. I’ll just have to double-down on my professionalism and do my best to keep my distance.
Shoving out of the glass doors, I hurry in the direction of the arena. I can probably make it back before the storms kick up again.
“Hurricane!” Weston’s deep voice stops me in my tracks.
Shit.
Digging deep, I pray for my willpower to kick in. I take a quick breath and spin to face him .
“Hey. We survived.” I work to keep my tone light, although I’m high-key panicking on the inside.
He can’t be out here, using that nickname where anyone could hear.
It’s too personal, making our private connection visible, real.
I fiddle with the stack of bracelets on my wrist and hope my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.
“Aren’t you going to look at the townhomes with us?
” His brow furrows as he squints down at me, the hulkiness of his body overwhelming.
I shift from foot to foot, trying to come up with a plausible excuse.
Because there’s no way I’m going to be able to house hunt with Bennett hawking my every move concerning his brother.
“I’m going to pass. I have to get back.” I hook my thumb over my shoulder, pointing toward the arena.
“It’s kind of a long walk. You want me to give you a ride?”
“No, I could use the extra steps.” I tap at my watch, pretending to check my activity tracker.
“Too bad. Who’s going to talk me down in the event of an elevator emergency?” His lips tip into a wry smile and my heart skips in my chest.
This is so not good.
I can’t let my guard down, not when everything’s on the line—for both of us.
“You’ll be fine. Your brother’s here now. The two of you are probably strong enough to get the elevator moving even without power.”
He shakes his head, raking his hand through his hair. “Don’t think so. But thanks for the vote of confidence. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I lived in New York for years—pretty certain I can handle Driftwood Cove.”
“Alright. I’ll see you later then. ”
We stand staring at each other for a long second, the salty ocean breeze cool on my heated skin, unspoken words hanging between us.
Finally, I break away. Focus on putting one foot in front of the other at a normal pace, although my gut instinct is to run and hide.
Because I don’t know exactly what happened in the elevator between us, but I do know that whatever it was definitely can’t happen again.
Straight after the afternoon meeting, I go back to the hotel and take a long shower, washing away the sweat-and-cedar smell of Weston left clinging to my skin. I’m finally in bed, working on my laptop with a glass of wine, when a video call from my younger sister, Piper, rings through.
Saving my latest ‘Hockey with Heart’ document, I tap my cell and Piper’s cheery face fills the screen.
“Hey, you.” Piper grins and waves, her long, dark hair in a high ponytail. “How’s Florida? You don’t look very tan.”
“Must be the lighting. Oh wait—no, it’s probably because I’ve been working during all the daylight hours, Pipes. It’s been a week and a half of non-stop meetings. One doesn’t tan buried under mountains of strategic plans in a cave of an office.”
“Still salty, though.” She tsks loudly and shakes her head, ponytail swishing over her slim shoulders.
“Were you at yoga?” I motion at her tight, pale pink top and matching leggings.
“Yes. I’m doing a write-up on a spa in Arizona, with a focus on wellness retreats. Lots of yoga, saunas, cupping, that sort of thing.”
“Sounds dreamy.” Not for the first time, I’m slightly jealous of my sister’s career. Travel content creator sounds much less stressful than PR strategist right now.
She shrugs. “It’s fine. No hot guys here, though. Unlike your position…”
“Stop.” I shake my head, even as heat floods through me. An image of Weston skating this morning pops into my mind. All those muscles, barely contained in his practice jersey. His icy stare as the puck flew across the empty rink, the furrow of concentration on his serious face.
“Don’t tell me you’re not flirting at all? You’re surrounded by hockey babes.”
I heave out a sigh. “Yeah, I know. But I have to keep things professional, you know?”
Piper narrows her eyes at me. “It’s more than that, Harbor. It’s written all over your face. Spill.”
“What?” I feign innocence, even as my heart hammers thinking of Weston.
“I know that look. That’s a ‘ there’s definitely a hot guy’ look. Spill the tea!”
“No tea, sis.”
“Liar.”
“Me?” My hand flies to my chest and I do my best to act affronted. “I would never.”
“Uh-huh. Hey, I’m proud of you, showing interest in something other than your job for once.”
“Gee, thanks, Pipes.” I roll my eyes at my annoyingly perceptive sister.
“You’re deflecting. Talk—I know there’s a guy. You’re blushing and your neck’s blotchy. Who is he? A player on the team? What position?” Piper sits down on her yoga mat in lotus position, readying for a long chat.
“Sorry to disappoint. But there’s not much to tell. I’m down here with the owner, the GM, a few office staff…” My voice trails off, throat going dry as I lie to her.
“And…” she presses, not letting the subject go. A damn yappy dog with a bone.
“And the team captain. But the rest of the team’s rolling in now.”
“Oh. So it’s the captain. That’s fine, say no more. I’ll have the details here in a second.”
The screen shakes as Piper does a quick internet search, tapping and then smiling at her results.
“He is cute. Kind of scowly and serious. A perfect match for you. Weston Steele.” She says his name in a sultry tone, waggling her eyebrows.
“Shut up,” I say, playfully slamming a pillow at the computer screen as my stomach flip-flops at Weston’s name.
“Just admit it…” Piper grins like she’s already won this round. “You’re falling for Hockey Captain America.”
“I’m not falling for anyone. I’m rebuilding careers—his included.”
“Mm-hmm. And does everyone’s career make your neck blotchy like that?”
I slap my hand to my throat, then glare at her. “It’s the humidity.”
“Sure. Blame the weather. Not the six foot-four, 225-pound hockey star, born and raised in New York. And he’s a triplet? Wha-what?!?”
“Yeah, he is. His brothers are on the team too.”
“Are they also single? I’m available, you know.”
“Oh my gosh, Piper. I don’t know if they’re single. And I’m not interested in Weston. We’re working together is all. He’s the captain of the team and I need him to get on board with the plan so the rebrand is successful.”
“I bet he wants to get on board.” She raises her perfect brows, and I crack up laughing despite how annoying she is.
“He does not. We’ve been fighting non-stop since we met.”
Well, that’s sort of true. We weren’t fighting this afternoon in the elevator.
“Harbor…what aren’t you telling me? Because that’s your lie face.” She points her index finger at me and I frown.
She’s losing her mind. “I don’t have a lie face.”
“You do. And you’re making it right now. The way your brow’s scrunching and you hold your lips really tight.”
I grab my wineglass and swirl the golden liquid, averting my gaze and debating how much to share here.
“Fine. We have been fighting. A lot. He hates my PR plan and has been a huge, grumpy pain in the ass.”
“Until he wasn’t.” Piper finishes the thought for me and a mixture of annoyance and comfort swirls through me. There’s nothing quite like a sister to sift through your bullshit. Cheapest therapy on the planet.
“Yeah. Until he wasn’t.” I sigh, leaning back against the fluffy white pillows. “Today we were trapped in the elevator together?—”
She interrupts my story. “What? Did you say trapped? Like, in the movies? Oh my god, did you have sex in the elevator with the hockey star?” She fans herself, lips parted in shock.
“No! Of course not. It was dark and hot and we were both kind of panicking. I was afraid he was going to pass out from a panic attack. Don’t repeat that—top-secret info. Not that he told me not to tell anyone or anything, but…”
“Oh my gosh. You have it bad for this guy. You’re protecting him. Harbs! That’s so sweet. Can I be your maid of honor?”
“Piper! We’re not even dating, let alone getting married. You’re so ridiculous. Besides, even if we weren’t clashing at every turn, the situation’s tricky. I work for his team.”
“Yeah, it’s called an office romance. Like fifty percent of relationships begin at the office.”
I huff out a breath. “But it’s more complicated than that. It’s not like we’re peers. Not really.”
“But you’re not his boss, right?” She lowers her chin, staring straight through the screen at me.
“Not technically, no.”
“So what’s the issue?”
“Remember Kate, from Redline PR? She dated a player and once the media found out, she was fired on the spot. Besides, my job is to protect the team from scandal. I can’t be part of the scandal, getting with the players.
Especially not when I’m Doug Hayes’s daughter.
Any misstep gets amplified. Dad would have a field day and it would prove exactly what he thinks—I don’t have what it takes to be in the hockey world. ”
“Right, I agree. You definitely shouldn’t get with the players. Just him. Weston.”
A shiver rolls through me at his name.
God, my sister’s so annoying.
And also, accurate.
“I can’t go there, Piper. Too much is at stake here. The team needs my entire focus to be on their success. ”
What I don’t tell her—can’t tell her, no matter how close we are—is this rebrand is every bit as much about my success, too.
This isn’t just about the team. Our dad’s watching, waiting for me to fail. I can’t give him the tiniest scrap of ammunition to use against me.
I can practically hear his I told you so from here.
“And their success probably hinges on how well Weston Steele, team captain, plays. And I bet he plays better hockey when he’s happy, know what I mean?” Piper gives me an exaggerated wink and I laugh.
“Knowing Weston, he probably has a strict no-sex policy during the season. To keep his focus laser-sharp.”
Focus.
There’s that word again. And it’s starting to feel like a battle I’m losing.
“Damn, you sound like you know him pretty well already.”
I bite at my lip and stare out at the dark ocean, reflecting. Do I know Weston well already?
Not really, but it feels like we’ve known one another a lot longer than a week and a half.
Because you click with him.
Shoving that thought away, I focus on my sister. “Anyway, enough about me. What’s up with you? How’s work?”
“It’s fine. That’s one of the reasons I’m calling. I have an assignment in Florida later this month and was hoping to see you.”
“Sure, sounds good. Shoot me the dates and I’ll get you on my calendar. I need to check the schedule, but I should be around. ”
“Great. I’ve gotta run to a nature meditation session. But I’ll send you dates!”
“Perfect. Love you, Pipes.” I blow her a kiss as she waves and clicks off, the screen going dark.
My sister’s something else. We’re nothing alike—she’s a free spirit and I’m more structured, preferring a schedule and rules to the freelance lifestyle. But she is intuitive and just may be on to something.
In the elevator, things shifted between me and Weston. Maybe it was the confined space or the darkness, I don’t know. But for the first time, it felt like maybe—just maybe—something could happen between us.
And I’m not sure if I should be happy about that or shaken to the core.
Because I can’t afford to screw up this team rebrand. An entire team’s counting on me. Jobs hang in the balance—including mine.
Even if I wanted to take a chance with Weston, it’s a terrible idea.
I set aside my wineglass and open the Hockey with Heart proposal, forcing myself to focus on the community outreach calendar instead of piercing blue eyes and the scent of cedar.
My phone vibrates against the nightstand. I check the screen and nearly drop it.
Weston: Prince wants to see updated mascot mockups by tomorrow. I’ve got early ice time at 5:30. Meet at Shoreline Coffee at 7 to review?
Pulse jumping, I stare at my cell. It’s a professional text from a colleague.
An ordinary request .
But it doesn’t feel ordinary—not with him. Not anymore.
I have a perfectly professional reason to meet with him. Alone. And it’d be suspicious if I declined.
The smart move would be suggesting a video call. Safe. Remote. Professional. Exactly what my father would expect from someone in my position.
But you know what? I’m tired of playing it safe. Tired of his voice in my head dictating every single decision.
Harbor: Sure. See you at 7
I hit send, dropping the phone on the bed.
What the hell am I doing?