Jaz looks over from the buffet in the dining room, her eyebrows lifting in a silent question. I give her ahelp-me-nowlook, and she immediately beelines over, stepping in just in time to block Rourke’s shameless campaign to monopolize my attention.
“I need someone to try out our new idea,” Jaz says, edging out Rourke. “Want to be my guinea pig?”
“I’d love to.” She loops her arm through mine as we head away from Rourke. Women always seem to know what theirgirlfriends need based on a look, and I want to kiss Jaz for rescuing me.
“Can I help too?” Rourke asks. “I can be your guinea pig.”
Jaz gives him an apologetic smile. “Nope. Can’t be a hockey player.”
Rourke turns to me. “Catch you later?”
“I’ll be around.” I feel the heat of someone’s stare and turn to see Leo watching the whole exchange.Great.Now I look like the one who’s sneaking glances at him.
You’d think confessing to Leo that I wasn’t interested in Rourke would’ve eased the tension between us, but no. If anything, it’s made it worse.
“So what’s this new idea?” I ask, turning away from Leo’s gaze and giving him the delightful view of my backside instead. Serves him right for staring so much.
“Lauren and I are starting a new social media account called ‘Crushin’ on the Crushers.’ It’s for people who want to submit their fan love for a player. They don’t actually have to have a crush—just share who their favorite player is and why they like them. They fill out an anonymous form, then we’ll sort through them and post the ones we think fit the vibe.”
I look over the form on Jaz’s phone. The questions are basic—share your favorite player and what you love about him. “And the point of this is...what?Other than feeding grown men’s egos.”
She laughs. “We’re hoping to attract more women to hockey games. The sport is largely attended by men, but this will show another side of the players—that they can be sweet and soft too. Each feature will highlight a player’s hobbies and interests, paired with fan submissions.”
“Sweet and soft? Do those words belong next to hockey players?” I lift an eyebrow. “Good luck selling that one to the team.”
“Lauren thinks it’ll work,” she says. “But we need to test the concept. That’s where you come in.”
“Me?” I ask, my stomach doing a nervous little flip. I can’t let anyone know what I think about Leo, even if it is anonymous.
“You’re not caught up in the Crushers’ world, but you’ve seen enough to have an opinion of the team. Besides, you and Leo are friends, right?”
“If you could call it that,” I say without adding the rest—we’re only friends in public.
My gaze slides to Leo, and his face snaps away. He’s dying to know what Jaz is up to. If I fill this out, he’ll always wonder who did it, but he’ll never be able to trace it back to me. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.
She leans toward me and whispers, “I know he’s a challenge, but do you think you could say something nice about Leo? I’d love a submission for him since he’s down about being benched.”
Nervousness ripples under my skin. I could turn my fan love into a romance novel if I’m not careful. Goodness knows I’ve been reading too many of them.
“Is that a yes, then?” Jaz interrupts my thoughts with a curious grin.
How can I say no—especially after she’s offered me a place to stay?
“Okay,” I say, dipping my face so she won’t see my cheeks burning. Never mind that in my latest novel, the broody main character bears an uncanny resemblance to Leo—except this one is fictional, so he’s significantly less infuriating.
I let my gaze fall over Jaz’s shoulder to where Leo chats with Lauren. They’re probably just talking shop, but my stomach tumbles at the thought of him with anyone else.
I clear my throat. “I’ll try to think of something nice to say. No promises, though.”
“You’re the best,” she says before trotting off to work the room with her sales pitch for this new campaign. I settle in a chair in the corner where I have complete privacy, but I’m not good at composing my thoughts with my thumbs. So I scribble it on the smile tally sheet in my pocket before typing it into the online form.
Leo, you’ve always been the one who could make me feel special, even when I didn’t believe it myself.
I hit the submit button as a nervous zing of energy courses through me. It’s supposed to be anonymous, so why does it feel like I’m standing in front of Leo with my heart on my sleeve? Anyone could have written this. A fan he met. Someone he signed an autograph for. A casual date.
As I lock my phone, Leo appears before me. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice cool, even though his eyes dart nervously toward the phone.
I tilt my head and try to look innocent. “None of your business.” Then I head over to the punch bowl, sliding the phone into my back pocket so he’ll forget about it.
