Page 5 of Something to Prove (Smithton Bears #2)

TY

The best way to deal with this bullshit was to face it head-on. If Walker had any grand plans for extortion, I wanted to know…so I could personally assure him that karma was on my side and hungry for vengeance. I didn’t want to waste a single second worrying about what he could do to my career.

Christ, had he taken pics?

I looked up Walker’s contact info and left a direct message for him on his site.

Meet me at Coffee Cave at nine a.m. sharp. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll find out where you live and hunt you down. This is not a joke.

He responded with a thumbs-up emoji. That was it.

I didn’t get the impression that Walker was a man of few words, so I spent a minute reading into the casual emoji. But that was silly. Overthinking wasn’t going to do me any good. I just needed a face-to-face chat with the slippery little shit to see why the hell he’d followed me into that alley.

Yeah, yeah, I’d told Toby I’d cooperate with the interview and maybe I would, but I couldn’t give in immediately or Walker would think he had the upper hand. Which he did, and?—

Deep breaths. Stay calm, and don’t let the redhead know he’s under your skin .

“What were you doing at The Tavern last night?” I barked as Walker settled in the seat across from me.

The blood drained from his face, his gaze flickering from the lid on his latte to me and back again. “I was listening to a terrible band’s original playlist from hell,” he choked out, adding, “you were there?”

“You know I was.”

Walker widened his eyes. “I do?”

I skewered him with a dark stare, and cast a cautious glance at our nearest neighbor in Coffee Cave—a student wearing big-ass headphones, thumbing through his cell while bopping his head to his tunes.

No danger there. I’d specifically chosen a table for two in the farthest corner of the coffee shop, away from prying eyes and ears.

I didn’t care if we were seen together, but I definitely didn’t want to be overheard.

“You do,” I grunted. “What were you doing in the alley? And don’t bullshit me.”

Walker nibbled his bottom lip. “I needed a break from the band, so I took a slight respite in the parking lot to?—”

“To spy on me.”

“No! I mean…yes.” His lips twisted in a pained expression. “Because I was hoping to catch you and persuade you to do that interview.”

“You set me up,” I snapped in a low menacing tone.

“No! I didn’t.”

“Right,” I huffed sarcastically.

“I swear. I didn’t know you were—I didn’t know.” Walker wrapped his trembling hands around his cup, his Adam’s apple slid in his throat and his mouth stretched in a tight line.

Huh. Either he was a gifted actor or…he was telling the truth.

If he was to be believed, the other night was a case of epically poor timing and bad luck…for me. Great for Walker.

Total fuckery.

It took serious mental strength not to let my thoughts go straight to doom and gloom.

This asshole held my future in the palm of his hand. He could unravel fifteen years of hard work and dedication with a Smithton exclusive: “Bears Pro Prospect Spotted With His Pants Down…With a Dude!”

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, and?—”

“I’m thinking you have me by the short hairs,” I intercepted angrily. “And that I’ll have to do your fucking interview now and be wary of being blackmailed by you for the rest of my career…assuming I have one.”

Walker gasped indignantly. “I would never stoop to blackmail!”

“Right.”

“Listen, I know we’ve gotten off to a rough start, but I swear I wouldn’t say a word about…what I saw. Not that I saw much at all. I didn’t. I?—”

“What did you see? Be honest.”

“It was dark.”

“And?”

“Scary?”

I furrowed my brow. “Is this a joke to you?”

Walker shifted on his seat, fiddling with the plastic tab on the top of his to-go cup. “Fine. I was leaning on the wall and turned at the sound of voices. And…sex noises.”

“But what did you see ?” I pressed.

“Oh, my God! I saw a man sucking your dick,” he whisper-hissed. “Are you happy now?”

“No, I’m not happy at all,” I spat. “Did you take pictures?”

He had the nerve to look insulted. “No, I did not.”

“You sure? A little spank-bank material for later?”

Walker eyed me angrily and slid his cell across the table. “See for yourself.”

I scrolled through Walker’s photo gallery, flipping by the band pics at The Tavern to, I shit you not, dozens upon dozens of…

flowers. Roses and tulips mixed with branches and greenery, and exotic bulbs in vibrant pinks and purples.

There were photos of flower stands, topiaries, bunches of sunflowers, bouquets on fancy tabletops, window boxes, and lots and lots of gardens.

And the rest were all of a fluffy white cat.

“What’s with the flowers?”

“I like arranging them.”

“Like a florist?”

“Yes, like a florist,” he huffed, snatching his cell away.

“Then why aren’t you doing florist shit instead of being a public nuisance?”

“I’m not a nuisance. I’m following generations of reporting pillars in my family, and I’m doing a darn good job.”

“By blackmailing unsuspecting citizens into submission,” I snarked.

“I have no intention of blackmailing you. I told you, I just wanted to talk to you.”

“For the interview.”

“Yes. I know you don’t have a high opinion of me, but as you probably know, an interview with you would net a lot more viewers than last night’s concert did.”

“And insider dirt might get you even more subscribers.”

Walker grunted in frustration. “You obviously don’t realize that outing your relationship wouldn’t go over well for me.”

“I’m not in a relationship,” I corrected irritably.

“All right, but that’s hardly the point. The public forgave my initial faux pas with Jett, but they’d wonder if I had some extreme conservative agenda if I outed your…dark-alley situationship, and I assure you, I do not. I’m here for local information and entertainment only, not salacious gossip.”

“Ri-ght,” I drawled.

“I’m serious. The other night was just a fluke that I for one am willing to pretend never happened.

I’m erasing last night from my brain even as we speak.

Gone. Poof .” Walker shook his head manically as if physically removing all unnecessary info.

“And darn that’s a shame, because it was rather a saucy visual, but it’s gone, gone, gone. ”

I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress a wayward grin. Walker was kind of cute.

Whoa, fuck that . The guy was a pain in the ass and a menace.

“I still don’t trust you, but…” As I stood, I pinned him with a glare I usually reserved for opponents. “I guess I’ll have to try. Just don’t fuckin’ mess with me.”

“Hang on!” He pushed his chair out with a screech. “I still need the interview.”

I blinked incredulously, proud of my acting skills. “Are you for real?”

“Awkward, I know. But please…sit down, and let me offer a proposal.”

“Ahh, you mean extortion.” I flopped into my seat again.

“No, a bargain or a trade.”

I raked my gaze over his body and snarled. “You’re not my type.”

For the record, that was a damn lie. Walker was more my type than all the Carsons of the world would ever be. I liked that he was shorter, lithe, and toned. I liked his confidence, and I even begrudgingly admired that he’d built an online enterprise that gave back to a college community.

It was the sneaky, crooked, conniving BS that turned me off.

Walker blushed, clearing his throat as he leaned in.

“Not that kind of trade. I meant that I have a large social media platform that’s pretty darn popular.

I can help you launch your own in preparation for your AHL debut.

Fans are going to want insight into your life.

I’ve checked out your current social media presence and no offense, but it’s amateur hour.

Freebie tip—delete the beer-can pyramids, the make-out sessions with pretty girls in bikinis, and the fifty thousand pics of random friends and family members.

Sweet and all, but your fans want more solo shirtless you and less blurry pics of you with Grandma and Grandpa at a family picnic. ”

“Hey! My grandparents are the bomb.”

“I’m sure they are, but you always have to consider what you’re selling.

If the answer is nothing—by all means, do your thing.

I imagine the average pro hockey person has a more sports-driven presence, though.

” He paused as if gauging my reaction, adding, “You’re big news here, Ty, and the town wants to celebrate your achievement.

I can help with that. If possible, maybe I can atone for the dreadful oversight that haunts me to this day.

I want to fix this. I hope you’ll allow me to make amends. ”

Toby’s warning about doing things we didn’t want to inconveniently resurfaced. I was supposed to say yes, be charming and agreeable…to Walker Woodrow. And yet, he was bending over backward to be nice to me. It had to be trickeration.

Fuck, this made my head hurt.

“I’ll think about it.”

Walker smiled tentatively. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Let’s exchange contact information.”

I rattled off my digits and sipped my latte, slouching slightly with my legs spread in an uber-casual pose while Walker fussed with his bag and straightened his shirt. After what felt like a complicated dance, he inclined his chin in a wordless good-bye and sashayed to the door.

I watched him carefully, like a wolf cataloging his prey’s movements.

Nice delusion. It lasted for all of five minutes before I admitted that I’d been outfoxed by a savvy adversary who had me right where he wanted me.

I wasn’t the wolf in this scenario. Walker was. And I was his lunch and dinner.

Or so he thought.

It was time to study up on the redhead. I no longer had the luxury of ignoring him. I needed to figure this guy out and arm myself with some ammo.

Game on, Woodrow. Game on.