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“That’s not how this agreement works,” he grunts, giving me a chiding glance. “Nila needs to get some shots of you and your dad—the world needs to see more than just your friends. They need to get a glimpse of your personal life.”
My jaw tenses. “So, you want me to take a stranger to a private dinner with my father? Because that kind of defeats the purpose of having a personal life.”
“Will you take pictures and document it yourself?”
My shoulders slump. “You people are ridiculous.”
“No, you’re ridiculous for punching a fan, Cameron,” Coach Wilson snaps. “And you wouldn’t be in this predicament if it weren’t for that. Your actions got you here. Now deal with it.”
I can’t argue with him. I know he’s right...
And I still don’t regret it.
But I also know I need to be a “team player” and get this mess sorted out. And based on the number of notifications I’ve been receiving in response to the behind-the-scenes photos Nila’s been posting of my personal life, it appears her strategy is working.
Maybe this whole mess will be behind us soon and I can get my life back…
“I’ll ask her to come along.”
“Good. Better hustle. She’s already leaving for the day.” Coach Wilson nods to the locker room exit.
I sigh heavily, ignoring the way the guys are chuckling at me. I slip out of the room and head for the lobby of the rink, my stomach knotting up at the prospect of taking Nila to meet my dad.
As I round the corner, I catch sight of the redhead talking on the phone. She’s angled toward the glass doors, wearing a pair of black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. Her red locks are piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and my heart jumps to double time.
It’s like there’s something wrong with my electrical system when I step into her presence. All the wires are surging.
“Hey,” I call out as the phone drops from her ear. I do my best to keep my eyes on her face and not the way those black leggings hug her curves.
She looks over at me, surprised. “Uh, hey. I was just about to head out for the day.”
“Uh, yeah ... well ... you’re not done yet.”
“Oh? And since when do you get to decide that?” She places her hand on her hip, narrowing her emerald eyes at me. “Last I checked, I take my orders from Frankie. She said not to listen to you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m having dinner with my dad tonight. They all think you should come.”
“But you don’t think I should?”
That’s a weird question.
“Well, yeah … I think that goes without saying, don’t you? I figured after three days of following me around and snapping pictures, you would’ve realized that I’m not really a fan of this … arrangement.”
She bobs her head. “Right, well, it makes sense that your managers want me to get more personal content. We haven’t shown any of your family yet, so—”
“My teammates are my family,” I snap.
Her lips fall into a flat line. “I see. Well, I’m just trying to do my job.” Her voice grows sharp.
I clear my throat. “My dad is the only family I have outside of hockey, so you’re going to have to get used to being around the team.”
“Tell me when and where and I’ll meet you and your dad for dinner.” Something about her feels off this evening, and I can’t put my finger on it. “Make sure you let him know ahead of time what I’m there for.”
I nod, half tempted to press a little further, but I don’t. “I’ll pick you up from the hotel at seven.” She opens her mouth to protest but I don’t give her the chance. “See you then!”
As much as I don’t like this arrangement, I can still be a gentleman.
“You okay?”
