“Sure, I’d love to design jackets for other teams, but I don’t exactly have a lot of spare time on my hands. Not only am I learning how to take over for my grandfather, but I’m also trying to plan a wedding while raising my two siblings.”
“I know. You wear so many hats, and yet you somehow manage to make it look easy.” I pause to rinse my face. “My offer to help you during the off-season still stands,” I remind her.
Scar turns to face me, propping her hip against the counter as I do the same. “It would be great experience for when you retire. You said you’re thinking GM or VP, right?”
“Yeah, that’d be the ultimate dream. But it’ll take time to work my way to one of those positions within an organization.”
She winks at me. “Well, considering your wife will be the owner of the team you’ve played your entire career for, I’d say you have an in with upper management. And you’d be far more qualified for that role than I would be . . .” Her words trail off as she gets a faraway look in her eyes. “It’s perfect,” she gasps.
My brows pinch in confusion. “What’s perfect?”
“We’re already getting married so I can obtain ownership, but then once you retire, you could take over the day-to-day of ownership and I could pursue my passion for design or merchandising.” A wide, radiant smile splits her face, and I’m temporarily stunned speechless at the sight.
When I finally manage to find my voice, I point out, “There’s only one problem, Red. I don’t plan on retiring in the next three years. I’d only be thirty-four, and if I’m able to still play at the level I am now, I would like to play until at least thirty-five.”
She waves her hand dismissively at me as she closes the space between us. “So I wait it out another year, that’s not a big deal in the scheme of things. It’s much better than waiting until Gemma or Gunner would consider taking over ownership—a job I know Gemma has no interest in.”
Wait, now I’m even more confused. Scarlett was the one who was so concerned about sticking to the three-year agreement. Now she’s considering extending it, what, indefinitely? And not only that, but she’s trusting me to take over for her?
I must do a shit job of hiding my confusion and frustration because before I know it, Scar is stepping away from me, slowly backpedaling until she’s nearly out of the bathroom.
“Oh my gosh, I’m such an idiot. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking. I’m going to go get a glass of water and head to bed.” She stumbles back a few more steps. “Good night, Bennett.”
“No. Scar, let’s talk about this,” I start but clamp my mouth shut, flexing my jaw in frustration as she hurries out of the room.
What the fuck was that? I can’t seem to keep up with or get a read on Scarlett’s stance on us. One minute I think she’s falling for me as hard as I’m falling for her, and the next I’m sure she’s dead-set on sticking to the originally agreed upon rules of no feelings and a three-year timeline.
22
January
The elevator doors open, and just as I’m about to go downstairs in search of her, Scarlett steps out onto the floor of our suite. I got us a hotel room for the night even though the Winter Classic was just in St. Paul because I wanted us to have some alone time.
After the game got over, I was selected for the media panel to discuss our win so I’m arriving to the hotel later than I had planned. Scarlett has been distant since we talked last night after the family and friends skate, and now that we’ve got uninterrupted time together, I intend to clear the air and finally tell her how I feel.
She’s got her head down, so she startles when I ask, “Scar, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”
Her eyes widen as she takes me in, and she wobbles slightly in her heels before steadying herself. “I-I’ve been in the hotel bar. Taking some time to think. I did a lot of thinking.” She nods her head exaggeratedly to herself.
My brows knit in confusion. “Okay. And what were you thinking about, Red?”
“Well, you see, I had an interesting conversation this evening with your father.”
My breath hitches and my hackles raise. “My father?”
“The one and only. God, I really can’t stand the guy, but he had important business to discuss so he took it upon himself to find me so we could chit chat after the game.” She sways slightly again before quickly regaining her balance.
My fist flexes at my side in frustration. She’s talking in circles and I want answers. Now. “And what is it he wanted to talk to you about?”
“He seems to think we’re not a good fit. I believe he was distraught at the fact that if you marry me, you’d be, and I quote, ‘stuck fathering two bastards.’ I hope you don’t mind, I threw my drink in his face. But apparently that wasn’t enough of a hint for him.”
I would be filled with pride at that fact if I wasn’t internally freaking the fuck out right now. “What did he do?” I bite out the question, but only because I’m frustrated at the audacity of my father.
“He took the liberty of having his PI look into me. He must be good, too, because he not only found out about the stipulation for ownership, but he also found a way around it.”
My stomach sinks as I process her words. “A way around it. What’s that supposed to mean?”
She continues rambling on as if she hadn’t heard me. “Or, rather, I should say he found out that before my father passed away, he got the majority vote to rule to have that stipulation removed. Though, I’m not sure why my grandfather wasn’t made privy to that information. Perhaps he got confused because of his dementia, I’m not sure. But either way, it looks like you’re a free man. Besides, your father came up with quite the list of reasons why this marriage was only in my favor. So you should probably listen to him and run before it’s too late.”
