Chapter 5
Harper
My team is clustered around the conference table, their eyes glazed from staring at the Renegades event timeline plans for too long.
“Okay, people,” I say, clapping my hands together. “The season kickoff gala is in seventeen days. The Rainbow Room is booked, which means we have the venue, but everything else is still up in the air.”
Jessica looks up from her laptop, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “Catering proposals are coming in, but the numbers are higher than expected. Apparently, everyone jacks up prices when they hear NHL event.”
“Of course they do.” I grab my coffee mug and take a sip, the warmth helping me focus. “Amber, what's our guest count looking like?”
“Requests for confirmations have gone out,” Amber says, scrolling through her tablet. “That includes sponsors and media.”
“James, where are we on entertainment?”
“Three bands shortlisted, all available for the date. I've got meetings set up for tomorrow to hear them play.”
I nod, my mind already racing through logistics. “Perfect. Jessica, handle all the vendor negotiations, don't let them fleece us just because it's the Renegades. Amber, start working on seating charts and VIP areas. James, after you book entertainment, focus on décor and lighting.”
My phone buzzes as I'm heading back to my office. Brett's name flashes on the screen, and I grin. I know exactly what this call is about. Cole must have told him about our little surprise meeting yesterday.
“Hey, big brother,” I answer, settling into my desk chair.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Brett's voice is warm with pride. “The Renegades, Harper? Holy shit, that's huge.”
“Language,” I tease, even though I'm glowing at his reaction.
“Don't deflect. Tell me everything. How did this happen?”
I lean back in my chair. “The company that originally got the contract pulled out at the last minute. Some kind of embezzlement scandal. Renegades needed someone who could start immediately, and apparently, we were their second choice. Sloppy seconds, but I'll take it.”
“Hardly sloppy,” Brett says, and then his tone turns serious. “Harper, why didn't you tell me about this? I had to find out from Cole, and he said he had no idea, and you’re staying with him. Do you have any idea how shocked he was when you walked into that meeting?”
The memory of Cole's expression when he walked into Jennifer’s office makes me smile. “I can imagine. He nearly tripped.”
“That's not the point. Why keep this from me?”
I set down my pen and choose my words carefully. “Because I wanted to do this on my own, Brett. No connections, no favors, no big brother putting in a good word. Just my company's merit.”
Brett sighs.
“And because I don't want anyone on the team to know about our connection. Everyone in the hockey world knows you and Cole are best friends. If they find out I'm your sister, everything I accomplish will be attributed to nepotism.”
Brett is quiet for a moment. “I just want to help when I can.”
“I know and I love that, but I need to prove myself here.”
“I'm so proud of you,” he says finally. “You've worked your ass off to build your company, and now you're planning events for one of the biggest teams in the NHL. That's all you, Stubbs.”
After we hang up, I try to dive back into work, but my phone rings again.
“Ms. Hayes, this is Noah Ward. I've finished the assessment of your apartment.”
“Hello, Noah. Please tell me you have good news for me.”
“I'm afraid I need to meet with you in person to go over everything. Are you available to meet at your apartment today? I can walk you through what we're looking at.”
I check my watch. I'm swamped, but the tone of his voice tells me this isn't going to be a quick phone conversation.
“I can be there in twenty minutes,” I tell him.
I take an Uber ride to my apartment and find Noah waiting in the hallway outside my door. He's tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and gorgeous brown eyes.
The first time we met, I was too distressed to really look at him, but now I can see he's objectively handsome.
Any other time, I might have been interested. But after two days of living with Cole Maddox, every other man seems to fade into the background. The thought irritates me.
Focus, Harper. You have work to do.
“How bad is it?” I ask as Noah unlocks my door.
He leads me inside, pointing out areas of damage with his flashlight.
“I'm afraid it's worse than we initially thought.
The water damage has spread throughout multiple rooms. We're looking at drywall replacement, floor refinishing in the bedroom and living room, and full restoration of your kitchen cabinets.”
My heart sinks. “How long?”
“Six to eight weeks, minimum. Maybe longer if we run into any complications with the building's plumbing.”
Six to eight weeks. In Cole's apartment. Will he even let me stay that long?
“I'll get you a written estimate by tomorrow,” Noah continues. “Your insurance should cover most of it, but there will be some out-of-pocket expenses.”
I nod numbly, already dreading the conversation I'll have to have with Cole tonight. How do you tell someone that your ‘few days’ just turned into two months?
That’s a problem for future Harper to deal with. I’ve got too much to do today. I head back to work and dive into the endless details that come with planning a high-profile event.
By evening, I'm exhausted. The day's meetings and planning sessions, combined with the stress of my housing situation, have left me drained.
The apartment is dark and quiet when I walk in. Cole is probably out with his teammates. Most hockey players are notorious for their nightlife. Bars, clubs, a different woman every night.
Though Cole doesn't strike me as that type, he's too focused on his routines. Then again, maybe I just don't want to picture him surrounded by beautiful women, throwing themselves at the famous team captain.
I shake my head. Cole's social life is none of my business.
I heat up leftover Chinese food and try to work at the dining table, but I’m too tired. Eventually, I give up and go to bed.
I sleep like a log, but at three AM, I’m woken up by a nightmare.
The kickoff gala turned into a complete disaster. Caterers who never showed up, a sound system that died mid-speech, and guests standing around an empty ballroom while I frantically made phone calls.
In the dream, Cole stood in the middle of the chaos, shaking his head in disappointment while Jennifer McCall fired me in front of four hundred witnesses.
My heart is pounding, sweat dripping down my body. I grab my laptop and pad out to the dining room, needing to check and double-check every detail of our planning.
I'm deep in calculations when footsteps pull me from my work. Cole appears in the doorway wearing black boxer briefs, his hair messed from sleep.
Even half-asleep, he's ridiculously attractive.
“Working late?” he asks, his voice rough with sleep.
“Working early, technically.” I look down at my laptop screen, afraid my expression will give away how affected I am by his state of undress. “Sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn't. I don't sleep much during pre-season. Or during the season, for that matter.”
“Nervous about opening night?” I ask after a beat.
“Something like that.” He leans against the doorframe, studying me. “So. Events coordinator for my team. That's quite a coincidence.”
I’d completely forgotten about the meeting, and I stifle a smile. I look up, meeting his gaze directly. “Not really. There are only so many major event companies in the city.”
“You didn’t think to share that particular bit of information?” he asks.
I tilt my head, flashing him my sweetest smile. “It didn't seem relevant at the time.”
“Not relevant?” His voice rises slightly.
I stand up, needing coffee. “You were treating me like an unwelcome houseguest because I am an unwelcome houseguest. My professional relationship with your team doesn't change that.”
He follows me into the kitchen, and suddenly the space shrinks with both of us in it.
“You should have told me,” he says, his voice low.
“Why?” I turn to face him, and my heart skips a beat at how close he’s standing. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his stare.
His eyes flash with an emotion I can’t identify. Cole’s gaze drops to my mouth. Without thinking, I do the same, my eyes tracing the firm line of his lips before snapping back up to meet his intense stare.
Then he takes a step forward, closing the distance between us. Before I can process what's happening, his hands are framing my face, and his mouth is on mine.
His lips are hot and demanding, and his mouth tastes of mint toothpaste and heat.
I kiss him back with a hunger that shocks me.
A raw, desperate sound escapes my throat as my hands fist in his hair, pulling me closer.
His tongue tangles with mine, and his other arm bands around me, crushing my body against the solid wall of his chest.
The low groan that rumbles from his chest vibrates straight through me.
The kiss is a wildfire, consuming us both in seconds.
The thin fabric of my clothes feels like nothing, with every point of contact becoming hyper-sensitive.
My nipples tighten into hard, aching points. They brush against the bare skin of his chest with every ragged breath I take, a sharp, sweet friction that makes me shudder. My pussy throbs, and in seconds, my panties are soaking wet.
Pressed against me, his cock is hard and unmistakably thick, even through the layers of our clothes. A desperate, involuntary sound catches in my throat as my hips rock forward, grinding against that rigid length, desperately craving the friction.
The refrigerator chooses that moment to kick on, its hum suddenly escalating into a loud, rattling cycle that jolts me out of my bubble of lust.
I drop my hands from Cole’s hair like I’ve been burned. What am I doing?
Cole tilts my chin, forcing me to look at him. “That,” he says roughly, “is why you should have told me.”