Chapter 49
JORDAN
“I heard Fraser didn’t take the trade news well,” my father says as we wrap up the morning meeting the next day.
A rock drops in my stomach at the memory of yesterday afternoon, telling defenseman Keir Fraser that we were trading him to Los Angeles.
“No,” Tate adds with a tight smile. “He didn’t.”
Keir never showed up to team social events.
He barely talked to the guys and didn’t have any friends on the team.
I’ve never seen him at the Filthy Flamingo.
He was late to practice, and when I watched old tape of him playing years ago, I could see how he’s changed. He doesn’t love the game anymore.
And yet, he told us—me, Tate, Alexei, and Rory—to rot in hell. It doesn’t make sense.
“We need the cap space,” Tate adds.
It’s early March and the trade deadline is next week. We don’t have much more time to make changes.
“Anything else?” my dad asks.
“Nothing on my end.” Tate turns to me, his hair still damp from his post-gym shower, and it’s difficult not to think about waking up next to him. “Jordan?”
We have Luca’s big-check dinner this upcoming weekend at a restaurant downtown. When players sign their big multi-year contracts worth millions of dollars, it’s a tradition for them to take the team out for a nice dinner.
Tate’s going to wear a suit. All the guys do. He’s going to look so good.
“Yes. Um.” I straighten my spine and something in my nervous tone makes both my father and Tate look over at me with curiosity.
“I was wondering if—I’d like to hire a co-op student.
And a permanent hire. For Darcy Andersen and the analyst team.
One of the other analysts is on paternity leave, and the workload is a lot for her.
” I tug on the ends of my hair before realizing what I’m doing and force my hand down to my lap, interlacing my fingers.
“Darcy loves her work, and I don’t want to push her into burnout if we can hire more people. ”
My father watches me for a moment. “Tate? What do you think?”
Tate’s studying me, the same way he looked at me when he found me pouring drinks during that game. Like he’s seeing something new. “If Jordan thinks we need to hire more analysts, then let’s hire more analysts.”
Ross nods once. “Fine by me.”
Relief rushes through me and I actually smile at him. “Thank you.”
“On one condition,” he adds. “I would like to have lunch every two weeks.”
I blink. “With me?”
“Yes, Jordan.” My father nods, expression unreadable. “With you.”
I don’t say anything for a long moment. “What if you’re out of town?”
“I won’t be,” he says simply.
I can feel Tate watching me. “Okay.”
“Great.” My father smiles a little. “I’ll have my admin set it up in our calendars.”
In the elevator, I slide a questioning glance up at Tate.
“Do you think that was a bad idea?” I ask him. “Agreeing to lunch? Do you think I’m stupid to set myself up for disappointment like that?”
“No, Jordan, I don’t. Ross is trying and you’re being brave by letting him.”
He studies me for a long moment. Is he thinking about waking up together?
I think about the flickering TV light I see most evenings in his bedroom windows. Maybe he’s not so innocent, after all.
An eyebrow goes up at whatever my expression is. “Yes?”
“I saw a flickering light in your bedroom window a few nights ago.”
The other eyebrow lifts. He’s smiling. “You were looking in my windows?”
“Not like that.” My face is going hot.
He makes a noise like he doesn’t believe me, and again I have the strongest urge to smile or laugh or something. He’s just doing it to bother me.
“You have a TV.”
“What?” His expression screws up, comically surprised. “A TV?”
“Mhm.” I nod. Now I really am smiling. “You have a secret TV in your bedroom.”
“Are you accusing me of lying to my child?”
“Yep. I think you have a secret TV in your room to watch games and you lie to your kid about it.”
The elevator opens and we step out. “I can’t believe these accusations.”
“You’re so honest, Tate.” As we walk to our offices, I run the tip of my tongue along my bottom lip. His eyes follow the movement. “You can’t even lie about it.”
He smiles to himself, pulling his gaze up from my mouth. “So where do I keep this theoretical TV?”
“I think it’s in the dresser across from your bed. There’s nothing on top of that thing. No frames or spare change or receipts.”
We pause in the hall between our offices.
“You snooped in my room?” He seems pleased.
“No, I didn’t snoop. I glanced. When I was in your room.”
Electricity snaps in the space between us as our gazes hold. I said the thing we weren’t supposed to say, out loud. His eyes narrow, sparkling impossibly. All the blood in my body rushes to my face. I probably look like a tomato.
“I didn’t snoop,” I insist.
“Right. You glanced.”
“Admit it, Tate. Omitting the truth is still lying.”
He chuckles and a comfortable silence falls between us. “That was a very nice thing you did for Darcy.”
The way he’s looking at me, it’s like he sees right through me. I shift with discomfort. “I might as well make a positive impact while I’m here.”
The corners of his mouth turn up. He didn’t shave this morning and his stubble looks like it would feel gritty under my fingertips.
His eyes move to my hair. “Your hair’s down today.”
“Oh, yeah.” I frown. “I couldn’t find a hair tie this morning. I think Phoebe’s stealing them. Maybe she’s using them to make a voodoo doll of me or something.”
His eyes move over me, that warm look in his eyes. “It looks nice.”
My stomach dips in that pleasant, twinging way.
“Thank you for the treat you left on my desk yesterday,” he adds.
A pack of Dunkaroos. I don’t know why I did it. I guess I see him working so hard, taking nothing for himself, and I think about that sound he made and the way his lips felt against my fingers.
Before I can think of anything to say, he gives me a quick wink, like he knows I’m flustered.
“See you at practice, Jordan,” he says as he heads into his office.