Page 16 of Cut Off
He blinks at me, then steps back to let me in without argument, which tells me he’s either still half-asleep, or he knows how screwed he is.
Jonah’s home is precisely what you’d expect from an NHL star’s second house—sparse yet expensive, and spotless because the place gets cleaned even when no one’s here.
Even if it didn’t, Sydney told me once that he was the neat freak of the family, which seems at odds with his brooding hockey player persona but weirdly makes sense when you see him arranging the throw pillows on his couch as he passes by.
Now that I’m inside and away from nosey neighbors or security cameras, I blurt, “Your story’s about to leak.”
“Hold on, I need caffeine for this. Coffee?” He rubs a hand over his face as he heads toward the kitchen.
“Yes, please,” I didn’t have time to get any at the news station.
Oh, God. The news station, the place I no longer work. At least I won’t have to drink that sludge anymore, and I’m sure what Jonah makes will be better because anything would be better.
I follow him like a moth drawn to a hot, beautifully fit flame. “How about pants? For you, not me. I’m wearing pants. Obviously.”
Very smooth, Zo. Maybe after this, you can explain to him how doors work.
He stops walking, then turns to studyme.
So I continue, “Seriously, put on pants. I can’t have a reasonable conversation with your—” I gesture vaguely at his entire lower half.
A slow smile spreads across his face, transforming it from merely handsome to downright devastating. “Am I distracting you, Zoe Lane?”
“Go. Pants. Now.” I point toward the stairs, heat creeping up my neck.
He ignores my demand, heading toward the coffeemaker, which is both frustrating and not at all disappointing. As he moves around with surprising grace for someone his size, I perch on a stool at the island and try to organize my thoughts into something resembling coherence.
“So,” he says, his back to me as he measures coffee grounds, “lemme guess. Someone at the news station knows.”
“Donny Dexter. But he doesn’t know everything… yet,” I blurt, watching his shoulders tense. “He was at the station early—which never happens—and he knows you were at the police station yesterday. He has a source. He’s planning to break the story as soon as he figures it out.”
Jonah turns, coffee forgotten. “Fuck.”
I drum my fingers on the quartz countertop. “I don’t know how he found out this fast, but—”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jonah’s jaw tightens. “Now we just need to get ahead of it.”
“Exactly,” I say, impressed that Jonah knows PR, although I shouldn’t be. He’s an NHL star who deals with it daily. “If Donny breaks the story, it’ll be all about the scandal—the secret love child, the absent father. We need to not let that happen.”
Jonah nods, then turns back to the coffeemaker, pressing buttons with more force than necessary. “I was going to tellmy family when they got back from my aunts. Two more days. That’s all I needed.”
The vulnerability in his voice makes my chest ache. Behind the hockey star façade and those ridiculous abs is a man who’s just had his world turned upside down and is desperately trying not to drop the ball.
“I know,” I say softly. “And this sucks. But right now, we need to focus on getting ahead of it.”
“Thanks for the warning.” He leans against the counter. His eyes meet mine, steady and serious. “Although you benefit from breaking this story, so I’ll take that back.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Not really. I got fired from KBVR.”
He nearly drops the coffee scoop. “Fired? Over this?”
“No,” I half-lie, lifting my chin. “I mean, yes, but it’s bigger than just your story. Donny and Marcus want to turn the network into something I don’t want to be a part of.”
“You okay?” He studies me for a long moment, his blue eyes seeing right through my facade. At least, I think it’s a facade. Right now, I still feel tough, but that reality thing has got to kick in at any moment now.
He says, “We need to get ahead of the story one way or another, right?”
“Yes.”
