Page 38 of He Has Charm (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
In the locker room, the sense of deep satisfaction calms my adrenaline but I have a grin that won’t quit.
“Knight, get dressed and take a turn with the postgame press pronto,” the coach says on his way to the center of the locker room. “Great team effort,” he says to the room. “But I don’t have to tell you that’s the key to our success. I especially appreciate the way we’ve come together and absorbed the new guy so quickly.” He nods at me. “Pretty fucking seamless.” He turns back to the room. “Let’s keep it up and build on this. Can’t win with one goal most nights.” He winks at Finn and dismisses us as he walks back outside to meet the sports press.
“Hold onto your cup,” Finn says on his way to the shower. “There’s nothing like the Boston sports press.” I grab a towel and take care of business, anxious to get my duties over with so I can blow off some steam, celebrate.
Fuck. I’m not allowed to celebrate, am I? Not unless I take Harper with me. When I’m dressed and ready to face the press, O’Rourke stops me.
“A few of us are going out for dinner. Me and Chelsea, Finn and Vivvie, Rafe, and Zoey. Want to come along? It’s not the wild night out you’re used to, but that’s the point.”
I chuckle. “Sounds like a couples dinner. Not sure I’d fit in. Harper is waiting—"
“Perfect. Bring her. You’ll fit right in.”
“Let me state the obvious, we’re not a couple. And Delaney will have my balls if she thinks there’s anything going on between us.” O’Rourke eyes me.
“She’s not the only one. But Delaney’s not going to worry because we’ll all be chaperoning. Besides, we can have some fun busting your balls about yourhiatusfrom—”
“Okay. Fine. Me and Harper will be there.” O’Rourke gives me a nod and a penetrating look.
“Should I be worried about you, Knight?”
“You most definitely should.I’mworried about me.” I end the conversation and push out of the locker room to face the press. We both know I’m only half kidding and I know he wants to ask what I’m worried about for real, but hell if I know.
Delaney meets me inside the door to the press room and almost shoves me toward the podium. The room is bigger than I expected and filled with reporters, mostly holding phones or tablets and some with pens and paper. Plus there’s the bonus of no less than four TV cameras. Fuck. They weren’t kidding about the Boston market being big on hockey.
Delaney runs the show, designating whose question I should answer from the din of questions called out. Once she points, whoever the reporter is stands and repeats whatever question they’ve been shouting.
Not surprisingly, the first three questions have to do with my role as a porn star and one about the incident with the lady fan asking for my autograph. I do my best deflecting and side-stepping.
“Let’s save talk of my porn career for when I’m ready to retire from hockey, which will be many, many years from now. So far in the future they won’t want me and my old broken-down body on film anymore.” Delaney nods in approval at that and points at Nora Olak, who I’m told is from the biggest Boston sports paper, for the next question. But if I thought the controversial questions were over, they’re not.
“Is it true that the terms of your contract with the Brawlers include a requirement that you have a handler?” Shit. Too close to the bone and those terms are supposed to be confidential. I grin, trying to keep loose.
“Shoot, Nora, you know better than to ask about confidential terms of my contract with the Brawlers.” I retain my smile to keep it friendly, but there’s no way I’d cop to Harper’s status whether it was confidential or not.
“I have it on good authority that Harper St. John is more than your agent—”
“There is absolutely nothing between Harper St. John and me but a lucrative contract and mutual respect.” I slide my eyes to Delaney, who’s running this show and she isn’t smiling. Maybe my denial was too strong. Fuck. She chooses the next reporter carefully and the remaining questions are softballs about actual fucking hockey, which I manage to handle while I worry if I’ve done any damage and how much fucking Nora Olak knows about me and my handler.
Once I’m finished I leave quickly to track down Harper. Except now I need to be careful because Olak is trying to make something of us. That was no innocent question. And I don’t want Harper to lose her reputation or her job.
I meet Harper in the hallway outside the friends and family waiting room. Some of the other guys are milling around, talking and laughing. O’Rourke is doing press duty now, and I notice his wife Chelsea laughing with Zoey and Rafe inside.
We go inside and Harper says hello to someone I don’t know and heads across the room toward the exit for the garage where players park. There’s no press in here, so I feel free. In my mind’s eye we should embrace in one of those big congratulations hugs where I twirl her around and give her a big fat juicy kiss then whisk her home—never mind.
“Not a terrible job with the press,” she says.
I grin at her terrible compliment. “Thanks. Did you watch the game? Maybe you saw the goal?”
“All right, so you scored a goal—”
“The winning goal. The only goal of the game.”
She claps her hands. “Nothing less than I would have expected. Good job. Next time score two or three and I’ll…” She trails off and looks away. I lean in, lowering my head so my mouth brushes the tendrils of hair near her ear, causing her to shudder. Which causes my dick to take notice.
“You’ll what? Maybe give me a kiss?”
“No.” She backs up violently. I laugh. She scowls and I watch her hands as they fist up to make sure she’s not going to slap me or worse, throw a punch. All that misguided passion…
