Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“You’re staring,” Arch says mildly, taking a long pull from his beer.
“I’m not,” I answer automatically, even as my eyes flick back to Juno.
He snorts and angles his body toward me. “Buddy… you’re tracking her like she’s on a breakaway.”
I shift my weight, irritation flaring hotter than it should. “Don’t start.”
Arch doesn’t back off. “You’re watching her like she scored the game-winner in overtime.”
I level him with a look meant to shut him down. “Stop with the hockey analogies. They’re stupid.”
Arch’s mouth curves, unapologetic and entirely too perceptive. “I don’t lie to teammates.”
I tip the bottle back and take another drink, the alcohol barely registering as I buy myself a second to rearrange thoughts I don’t want to have. “It’s complicated.”
The grin fades—not completely, but enough that I know he’s serious now. “Why?”
“She’s here doing a film,” I say, lowering my voice, even though the room is loud enough to swallow it whole. “That’s a line you don’t cross.”
Arch studies me, eyes sliding back to Juno for a second before returning. “Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I open my mouth. Close it.
My jaw tightens as I stare at the floor like it might offer an answer.
“As long as you’re not the story,” he continues calmly, like he’s breaking down a system play. “As long as whatever happens doesn’t end up on camera—where’s the conflict?”
“There’s a conflict,” I insist, the words stacking up faster now. “Overall objectivity, power dynamics, professional ethics—”
Arch lifts a hand, cutting me off. “You’re spiraling.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“You’re avoiding the real question,” he says, voice gentler but tinged with an edge all the same. “Do you want her?”
The answer hits me square in the chest like a punch, screaming to be let loose.
Yes!
Before I can respond, Juno lifts a hand and starts our way, accepting a beer someone shoves at her as she brushes by. Her smile is small but unmistakable and just for me, and I feel it settle low in my gut.
I don’t smile back right away. I let myself take her in, the confident walk, the flush in her cheeks that might be heat, might be alcohol, might be something else entirely.
Arch clocks it instantly and his grin returns, full force this time. “Ah. Incoming.”
“Please, for the love of God, stop,” I warn.
He absolutely does not.
“Juno!” Arch says brightly as she reaches us. “Perfect timing. I was praising Crosby for that win tonight.”
She laughs. “That save was ridiculous. I’m pretty sure the entire building inhaled at the same time.”
“See?” Arch says. “She gets it.”
I shake my head. “You’re both exaggerating.”
“And you’re far too humble,” Juno points out, eyes flicking to mine mischievously. “Which makes you a little bit annoying.”
Arch beams. “I like her.”
I groan quietly, although secretly I’m pleased with the banter. It’s so fucking easy.
“So,” Juno says, glancing around the packed house, “is this normal? Win a game, invade someone’s house, drink all their beer?”
“Only when we earn it,” Arch says. “And tonight? We earned it.”
She nods. “Good to know, for future planning purposes.”
“Speaking of planning,” Arch says, turning his attention fully on her now, “if you ever need someone to explain hockey systems in a very handsome, very articulate way—”
“Stop,” I grumble.
She laughs again, clearly amused. “Is that a formal offer?”
“Absolutely,” he says, voice dropping suggestively low. “I’m excellent at diagrams.”
She tilts her head, playing along. “That’s tempting.”
Arch shoots me a sideways glance, eyes dancing. “See? I’m useful.”
“You’re unbearable,” I tell him.
“And yet,” he says, already backing away, “you’d miss me if I left.” He claps me once on the shoulder. “I’m grabbing another drink. Don’t get into trouble.”
Then he’s gone, absorbed by the crowd, leaving the air quieter.
Juno turns back to me, smile lingering. “He’s fun.”
“He’s a menace,” I say.
She studies me for a beat, expression shifting into thoughtful curiosity. “You okay?”
I meet her gaze. “I am now.”
Whoa. Okay, that was brutally honest and completely flirt-worthy. But why should Arch have the monopoly on being charming?
And the way she looks at me tells me she knows exactly what that means.
Juno steps closer, angling her body toward mine in a way that feels intentional without being obvious. The music is loud and the room crowded, but the space between us narrows.
“That last play,” she says, nodding subtly, like she doesn’t want to draw attention to us. “When Miller lost the puck at the blue line…”
I huff a quiet laugh. “We’re really doing an interview here?”
Her mouth curves. “Occupational hazard.”
I want to be irritated she’s in work mode, but I can’t. She’s asking a legitimate question about team dynamics. “You saw that.”
“Hard to miss,” she says. “Two-on-one, game on the line, entire building holding its breath.” She pauses. “What did Miller say after?”
I blink. “You saw that too?”
She shrugs lightly. “I was on the glass. I also talked to him after the game.”
That gives me pause. “You did?”
“Yeah,” she says. “Briefly. He was… rattled, but also very complimentary.” Her eyes meet mine, steady. “He was singing your praises.”