Chapter 3 #3
Tank shook his head. “That’s shameful. You’ve lived in Baltimore what? Six? Seven months?”
“Almost nine,” she corrected.
“Those fish and chips should have been one of your first meals in Baltimore.”
McKenna grinned slightly. “Well, I guess we’d better correct that wrong.”
She started the car, the two of them rehashing some of the funny things the kids had said and asked.
McKenna had a memory like a steel trap, and he suspected a lot of the silly comments would find their way into posts, and she’d find a way to make him look great and the kids adorable.
Miss Efficient had also made sure every parent signed a media release form, allowing her to share the pictures and videos she’d taken of the kids.
Tank had never paid a lot of attention to the team’s social media pages because they hadn’t felt particularly important.
With so much time on his hands lately, he’d decided to check out McKenna’s work, and he had to admit, she was really good at building a positive image of not only him but his teammates as well.
She made them sound less like hockey stars and more like approachable, friendly people, and it obviously resonated well with the fans, if the comments were anything to go by.
When they arrived at the pub, she parked by the curb across the street. Tank got out quickly, walking around the hood and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, tucking her close, pretending it was his attempt to provide warmth from the chilly February wind coming in from the harbor.
The truth was, he was hoping to sneak another whiff of her strawberry-scented hair because damn, she smelled good.
“Tank,” she warned.
“It’s cold out. Don’t want you to catch a chill.”
She snorted. “Yeah, sure. FYI, you and I are going to talk about that kiss in front of the kids.”
“It was just in good fun,” he said, trying to minimize his actions, mainly because he still wasn’t sure what had prompted him to do it.
He kept trying to tell himself it was just a platonic kiss on the cheek, but that didn’t console him much…
as he now wanted a real kiss that was a hell of a lot less innocent.
McKenna didn’t step away or force him to lower his arm. “I am cold.”
Tank grinned, keeping his arm right where it was, not wanting to admit—even to himself—it felt nice holding her like this.
“Tank!”
They weren’t two steps inside the pub before the bartender loudly called out his name. Tank smiled and waved at Padraig Collins.
McKenna shot him a raised eyebrow, her gaze sparking with mirth.
“I’m not an alcoholic,” he said, getting her unspoken joke. “You know the team celebrates here.”
“I know, but the bartender calling out your name doesn’t really help our case.”
Tank pulled her closer. “Hush. Padraig is a huge Rays fan.”
Padraig followed them over as they claimed a booth in a quiet corner. Tank had been going stir crazy in his apartment, so it felt good to be out like this.
Sure, he and McKenna had been out and about pretty much every single day for the past two weeks, but their promo ops and his independent workouts hadn’t come close to filling enough hours in the day for him.
He was used to being on the go pretty much nonstop during the season, so the lull had hit him hard.
Eating take-out meals alone while sitting in front of the TV, watching his teammates play without him, had been brutal.
This wasn’t a game night, as the team had traveled home from Carolina late last night after a crushing loss in overtime.
Ordinarily, McKenna would have been on the road with them, but Benny had sent Roger instead, claiming it was more important for her to focus on what the PR department was calling the “Tank Project,” which made him feel like he was some goddamn science experiment.
Padraig started to hand each of them a menu, but Tank waved them away. “McKenna has lived in Baltimore for months and never had Riley’s fish and chips,” he explained, mentioning the chef’s name—and enjoying Padraig’s horrified face as he played along.
“You’re kidding? How the hell did that happen?” he asked.
McKenna laughed. “Tank has insisted we correct that oversight.”
“He’s a wise man.” Padraig kept the menus, tucking them under his arms. “I’m assuming you want the same, Tank?”
“Do bears bear? Do bees bee?” Tank joked.
“And to drink?” Padraig asked with a chuckle.
“I’m good with water.” Ordinarily, Tank would have gone for a Guinness, but there was a small part of him that felt like he needed to prove to McKenna he didn’t have an issue with alcohol.
“I’ll have an unsweetened iced tea,” McKenna ordered, smirking in such a way that said she wasn’t fooled by his good behavior.
“You’ve got it. Sure have missed seeing you play,” Padraig said to Tank.
“Suspension officially ended yesterday,” he said, grimacing as he spoke. “I’ll be back on the ice again tomorrow night.”
Padraig placed a hand on his shoulder. “Good. The team is better with you out there.”
“Hate how last night ended, and that shit went so fucking far sideways with that video.” Tank hadn’t seen Padraig since the suspension, but Blake had filled in the bartender, who’d become a pretty good friend over the past few years.
Padraig had texted to tell him to keep his chin up, saying, “This too shall pass.”
Tank had appreciated the support.
“My family’s dealt with enough drama that I know for a fact, most people have very short attention spans,” he assured him.
“Thanks, Paddy,” Tank said. “I appreciate that.”
“Let me go grab those drinks for you.” Padraig walked away to put in their orders, as McKenna frowned, looking confused.
“His family’s had a lot of drama?” she asked, curious, and Tank realized McKenna had missed out on more than just Pat’s Pub’s delicious fish and chips.
“Padraig’s got some very famous relatives.”
“Really?”
“Yep. His aunt is Teagan Collins.”
McKenna’s jaw nearly hit the table. “Shut up. She is not!”
Tank chuckled, recalling he’d had nearly the same reaction when Padraig told him about his illustrious family ties.
Teagan Collins and her husband, Sky Mitchell, were rock icons, their names often included with legends such as Sting, Billy Joel, and Cher.
Even as a professional athlete, Tank had been more than a little bit starstruck when he’d learned about Padraig’s family connections.
“And his cousin Ailis is married to Hunter Maxwell. In fact, Hunter was discovered in this very pub.”
“No way!” McKenna began looking around the pub, and he noticed when her gaze landed on photographs of the very people he’d mentioned, posing with other members of the family. “How did I miss all of this?”
“When we’re here, we’re celebrating with the team. I’m sure you’re not checking out the pub’s décor.”
“Even so,” she said.
“The Collins family is a big one, and they’ve lived in Baltimore for all their lives. Padraig joked once that he couldn’t turn around twice without bumping into someone he’s related to.”
“I’m sure Teagan and Hunter have probably had to deal with bad press from time to time. Stuff like that is a curse of being so famous.”
Tank agreed. “It is, but I think the drama Padraig was referring to just now was a viral video involving his cousin Sunnie and her husband. Maybe you’ve heard of Hot Cop Saves Sexy Nurse.”
McKenna must have hit Collins overload, because she leaned back, shaking her head in disbelief. “He’s related to them, too? You know, that video is still one of the most viewed ever, near the top of every viral list out there. I can’t believe all these people are related.”
“I’ve become friends with quite a few of the Collinses. Landon—the hot cop—texted me a few days ago, assuring me the heat from my video would die down eventually.”
“That was nice of him,” McKenna said.
“The entire Collins family is very nice.”
Padraig returned with their drinks but didn’t have time to chat, as a large group arrived, and he walked away to help them pull a couple tables together.
He and McKenna talked about—and analyzed—last night’s game until Padraig returned with their food. McKenna was well-versed when it came to the finer points of the actual game, impressing him with some of her insights.
Tank took a sip of his water before digging in. “So, we are officially finished with the promotional penance part of my punishment, right?”
McKenna nodded. “For the most part. Though I’ve got some interviews scheduled for you over the next month or so. A few sports podcasts and one magazine.”
As they ate their fish and chips—which she agreed were the bomb, as she liberally poured vinegar on her fries—she walked him step-by-step through potential interview questions, assuring him that she’d made certain the interviewers knew the viral video was off the table as a topic.
Then she stressed that if they tried to bring it up, he was to stonewall by saying nothing more than the same contrite “poor judgment, won’t happen again” bullshit he’d had to read at that initial press conference.
The conversation flowed easily between them, and they even stuck around a little longer, splitting a piece of Bailey’s cheesecake.
Several people in the pub tried to surreptitiously sneak photos of him, and a couple of the more forward ones had approached him for autographs, which he’d gladly given.
Other than that, the two of them had been left alone.
Tank had kind of liked having McKenna all to himself during his suspension.
It would suck having to share her with the rest of the team from now on.
He paid for dinner, even though McKenna tried to split the check with him. The meal had ended too quickly for Tank, who really wasn’t looking forward to going home.
“What do you say to a walk along the waterfront?” he asked, when they left the pub.
“It’s kind of cold.”