Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
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After getting my battered travel bag stashed under the hockey bus, I climb aboard. I don’t have Friday afternoon classes, so the team schedule doesn’t pose any conflicts. My mom will be off work in time to pick up Jace tonight, although she’s giving up the chance at a catering gig because I’m gone. We need a plan where we both make as much extra money as possible. If Sarah gets onto first shift soon, that could help.
I wasn’t sure what to expect on the bus—especially being one of the few women—but it’s pretty chill. The guys chat or watch stuff on their phones. It’s about four hours from Lafayette to East Lansing, Michigan, our destination for this weekend.
I head to the back of the bus with the student trainers, smiling at the players I pass on the way. They’re friendly, making eye contact or waving.
Until I walk by Hunter’s seat. He’s manspread across two, head thrown back and eyelids closed. It’s a pity that he’s a jerk, because he’s so nice to look at. His shoulders are broad and muscled, and something about the tendons in his throat makes my mouth water. His lips are full and sensual—are they soft?
Of course not. I shake off the thought. Probably dry and cold. He might be gorgeous, but it’s only skin-deep. Before I can look away, his eyes pop open, and he glares at me.
Normally, I meet glares with peppy smiles to kill ‘em with kindness, but he surprises me into glaring back. Huffing, I get my feet in gear and hustle down the aisle and away from him.
Grabbing a seat with some of the student staffers, I greet Jayne and Keisha.
We met last week at the first game. They are both juniors, studying physical therapy. Jayne is a petite blonde and Keisha is statuesque with blue and orange braids, the colors perfectly matching her Griffins hoodie. They get internship credits for working with the team.
“Okay, Natalie. Help settle this debate. Which is better—hot or iced coffee?” Jayne asks, her green eyes twinkling.
I rub my hands together. “I mean, I’d take either right now, but hot, for sure.”
“Yes!” Jayne pumps her fist, but Keisha shakes her head, braids swinging.
“No way. Iced coffee is so much smoother.”
“You guys are making me hungry.” I smile at them, pleased to be included in their conversation.
As the bus takes off, rumbling beneath me, they grab laptops out of their book bags and start studying. I follow suit until my phone buzzes. I expect my mom with a text about Jace, but it’s Kayla Barnes.
Kayla: Be sure to get a video or quote from Hunter tonight. Maybe something about their odds before the game and a sound bite after they (hopefully!) win.
I wince. My first temptation is to ignore her text. I could pretend I didn’t get it or say that I couldn’t talk to Hunter—that’s mostly true. I can barely bring myself to approach him, and I’m sure I can’t get him to talk to me.
But then my dad’s words echo in my head. “No matter what you’re doing, give it your best and I’ll always be proud of you.”
Natalie: Will do.
He’s not here to see me, but he’s taught me to never quit. So I grip my phone and stand. I’ll attack this problem head-on.
At Jayne’s questioning look, I jerk my chin towards the front of the bus. “Gotta go to work.”
I hold my head high as I approach Hunter’s seat. His eyes are closed again, but the tension in his posture makes me think he’s not asleep. I poke his shoulder, and he snaps up.
“What do you want?” His voice is practically a snarl.
I force my lips into a smile. “The pleasure of your lovely company, of course.” My words might be positive, but I let sarcasm creep in. Like his big growly attitude scares me. “Scoot over.”
Blinking, he complies. His brow furrows. That request was clearly not what he expected.
I take pity on him and wave my phone.“I’m supposed to get a ‘good sound bite.’”
“Ugh.” He runs a hand over his face. “What a waste of time.”
Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him see he bothers you.
“Look, it’s not like sitting with you is my first choice, either.” Those short and clipped words were not supposed to come out of my mouth. There goes not letting him see the truth. “But get it done, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
His hair draws my gaze after I say that, and I hate to admit that it looks great. Thick and soft, it’s perfectly messy and touchable. Hair I’d like to run my fingers through, grabbing while he—
I clear my throat. Only. Skin. Deep.
“What do you think your odds are of winning tonight?”
Hunter purses his lips, and his face stays hard and impassive. “Decent.”
“Could you elaborate?” My eyes bore into his. I refuse to say please or beg. Why must he make this so hard?
Then he sighs and gestures at my phone. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”
Smirking, I fumble to open the right app, and—meowing fills the silence. My cheeks get hot as Hunter’s eyes narrow.
“What is that?”
My fingers feel fat as my embarrassment spreads. I was aiming for professional, not crazy cat lady. With his lightning-fast athlete reflexes, he snatches my phone from my hands and raises a brow.
“You’re watching weird cat videos? On team time?”
“I wasn’t!” I gasp. “It was just the last video I had open. And it’s not weird. Who cares what I watch on the bus as long as it isn’t porn?”
My voice rises in pitch as I get defensive. I’m not even sure my arguments make sense, but how dare he?
“I don’t know.” He examines my phone, holding it just out of reach. “I think this is cat porn. I should probably report you to—”
“No!” Would anyone care if I was watching a video on my phone? I doubt it. But I need this job. I won’t chance it. I clear my throat and smooth out my features. “That won’t be necessary. Give me my phone back, please.”
Okay, I said please. But I didn’t beg. I hold my hand out and stare at him until he drops it into my waiting palm.
“Why cats?” he asks, and I don’t know why I bother to answer. I should change the subject back to hockey and focus on my job.
I shrug. “I like them. Now, would you prefer a video or a photo?”
Groaning again, the openness that had briefly lit his face flares out. “Photo.”
“Smile!” I snap it without warning—yeah, that’s a little cruel—and then wince. “Eek. We better re-take that. Not very photogenic, are we?”
He glares, and I take another picture. “Nope, still not what we want to garner fans. Try again.”
“I’d rather get fans because we’re good,” he says under his breath.
“Those were the good ol’ days. Now social media is the wave of the future. Get with the times, dude.”
I’m already familiar with social media and fashion, which is primarily geared to women. But hockey is a different puzzle. I’ve stayed up late this week reading all the business articles I could find about social media for sports teams and best practices. If it’s my job, I’m going to give one hundred and ten percent.
After grumbling again, Hunter finally smiles for my camera, and I have to brace myself.
Because it’s like the sun coming out after a thunderstorm. My breath catches in my throat. He has dimples. Freaking dimples. His white teeth pop, his blue eyes twinkle, and my stomach flips. My insides melt like an ice cream cone left out in the sun. Why does he have to be so damn handsome?
I glower at him to hide it and take the picture. “Was that so hard? Now give me a quote so we can be done with this.”
His face returns to his normal state—annoying and grumpy. “‘Michigan State is a good team, but I like our odds.’ How’s that?”
My fingers fly as I type. “I can work with that. Later!”
I leap out of the seat like my butt is on fire, but he grabs my forearm. Electricity zips up my spine, and I blink. His eyes widen, and he drops my arm like I burned him. Did he feel it, too?
“Um.” Hunter shakes his head like he’s trying to focus. “How about we don’t do this later?”
“You’re the captain, or have you forgotten?” Based on the way he leads, maybe he has. “And the whole thing with your dad—”
“No.” The word comes out a growl. “Let’s not focus on that. Or better yet, can you make up stuff I’ve said?”
I don’t know how to ignore the exact thing that my boss wants me to highlight, but I breeze past that comment and narrow my eyes. “Oh, I’d be happy to make up quotes for you. ‘I won the game as quickly as possible so I could get back to my favorite cat videos.’ Or how about—”
“Point made.” Cutting me off, he sighs like he’s so put-upon. “We can do one more quote after the game, but make it snappy, okay?”
Snappy? Oh no, he didn’t just tell me how to do my job. Blood thrums in my ears, and my skin feels hot. I’m sure my cheeks are red, and I clench my fists. Leaning down, I get in his face. “Yeah, I’ll find you after the game. And it will take as long as it takes. You’ll just have to deal.”
What is it about him that makes me say things like that? Spinning on my heel, I stomp back down the aisle, as far away from Hunter Thompson as I can manage.