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“That’s what your twenties are for,” Dad says, sitting back in his seat just in time for the knock on the door to have him sit upright again. I start clearing up our mess from lunch as he announces, “Come in.”

The air shifts the instant the door opens and the heavy footsteps behind me stagger.

I know it’s Auguste even before I glance over my shoulder. My insides are buzzing as I inhale his scent deep into my lungs—expensive cologne, sweat, and the sweetest hint of coconut.

Green eyes meet mine, holding me in place with that same pleading edge from this morning.

Then they flash to Dad, and I can sense the tension coiling his muscles tight before I see it physically bulging in his bare shoulders and corded arms—fresh from training, still flushed with his blood rushing around his body.

“Dylan said you want to see me,” Auguste addresses Dad.

“Sit down, son,” Dad tells him, his voice deep and serious.

Moving out of the way, I give Auguste my vacated chair and head to the door with a wave at Dad.

Before I leave, I glance over my shoulder at Auguste still standing next to the chair, his stare following me out of the room.

I don’t know what the meeting is about, but I feel the need to say something. Ease some of the tension between us before I leave them to it.

“Umm… Auguste, I know we have a reshoot later…” He nods, twisting to face me.

“Yeah, Cecelia mentioned it this morning.” His voice is so monotone that my stomach lurches at the out of character sound.

“It’s being moved to tomorrow. There was an issue with the shots from the locker room yesterday and there’s going to be a shift in direction.”

“I heard the trainers talk about it.”

“This social media madness is out of control,” Dad gripes behind him. “Well, I soon put an end to the sex shoots in my locker room.”

“It’s thirst trap, daddy,” I tell him trying to alleviate some of the unease roiling in my gut from Auguste’s curt tone.

“It’s obscene,” he counters, pulling a low chuckle from Auguste. “We’re a professional hockey team not the goddamn Chippendales.”

An actual laugh vibrates from Auguste, easing that vice around my lungs just enough that I can walk out and close the door behind me without suffocating.

Well, not entirely. Because seeing him in my dad’s office has made the remark Dad made over lunch a lot louder as it echoes in my thoughts. Auguste isn’t himself because of me. He’s distracted because he’s wasting his time chasing me.

The whole time I’ve been stand-offish, hot-and-cold. Too willing to bask in his attention without giving anything back.

Fuck, I’m that girl.

I’m just like my mom. She’s too fucking stubborn and scared to leave Martin, and I’m too stubborn and afraid to believe that not every guy is like him.

Sucking in a deep breath, I shake myself out before entering the PR and Marketing suite. Cecelia is sitting at her desk going through the guest list for The Comets’ VIP pre-season practice session where the fans get to see how the team is shaping up ahead of the season.

She always gets given the tedious jobs, but she’s a genuine fan, so she’s always chipper.

“Ah, here you are,” Carolina calls from her glass-enclosed office across the room, signalling me over while Shayne, the big PR boss, is standing over her shoulder with Jordan next to him.

There’s a big ass grin on his face as I approach and Shayne storms past me.

He thunders around the place like he’s always angry about something.

Although, I suppose I’d be miserable too if my job was constantly putting out fires to hold the integrity of the franchise together. Seems like such thankless work to me.

“Everything okay?” I ask, coming to a stop in front of Carolina’s desk.

With a loud exhale, she says, “Yes, fine. The usual push and pull between PR and us… which means I can’t make our meeting about the segments for the training and equipment staff.”

“No worries, we can do it another time.”

She chuckles, “I wish. But with the thirst trap saga ongoing, we need to get this idea nailed and in the works fast. Jordan has agreed to take my place.”

“Like it’s a hardship,” he teases, bracing himself on her desk.

“Well, it isn’t for you because you know all the ins and outs and schedules,” she retorts. “Anyway, I’m relying on the two of you to figure this out and brief me first thing tomorrow morning. If you need an intern to take notes, take Cecelia. She’s competent. ”

“Carey, it’s a low key brainstorming session. We’ll be fine,” Jordan is quick to add.

“Okay. Table is booked at that little cantina place.”

“Table?”

“Yeah, I figured we would be working through dinner.” Carolina looks between me and Jordan. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” we reply in unison. Him more enthusiastically then me.

After last night and the way I’m feeling about the situation with Auguste, the last thing I want to do is have dinner with Jordan. It’s the worst idea… but it’s also work.

“Great.” Carolina focuses back on Jordan. “Keep all the receipts for expenses… and thank you for stepping up. I really appreciate it, and I’ll make sure Holden gets the drinks next guy’s night.”

Carolina excuses us and as we leave her office, Jordan asks, “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all.”

“Good,” he beams, giving my shoulder a firm squeeze.

Auguste is right about him. He is very handsy and lacks personal space.

“I guess I’ll see you later, Court.”

Court? Since when does he call me Court?

“See you later,” I say, trying not to let my discomfort show.

As I walk to my desk, I feel the weight of his eyes on me. I don’t like it. It’s nothing like Auguste’s. My skin isn’t buzzing at his attention. My insides aren’t pulling and twisting with the thrill of his eyes on me.

And walking away doesn’t leave the emptiness in my chest searching. Or the hollowness begging me to turn back to him.