So that’s how it is.In front of his family, we’re the happy couple. In front of the team, apparently we’re just friends.
I look at the game he’s watching on his iPad. “Ready for this weekend?”
He shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out.”
I glance around at the staff. “Is your uncle here yet?”
“He’s flying to the game in his private jet,” he answers without looking up. “Never rides the team bus with us.”
“Bummer,” I sigh. “I wanted him to see me here, supporting the team. You know, like we planned?”
He looks over at me before turning back to his tablet. “Yeah. The vendor position. I know.”
“I brought my vendor research questions too.” I rifle through my bag for my notebook. “I want to interview the Charlotte staff about operations, sales data, management.”
“I’m sure it’ll be very informative,” he says vaguely, still absorbed in his screen.
Informative?That’s it? I straighten my shoulders, feeling a little put out that he doesn’t seem nearly as excited about this. “Am I bothering you, Brendan?”
“No, Scarlett. You’re not bothering me.”
“Are you sure? Because I can talk to someone else…”
He pulls his attention away from the game, his coach face falling away for a second. “I’m just not used to having you here. This is my job, and I need to stay focused.”
“Right.” I nod, trying to remind myself this isn’t personal. He didn’t sign up for me tagging along—Rafael arranged that particular complication. I’m just in the way of his game preparation. “Don’t worry, Bren. You don’t have to entertain me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
He studies me for a moment, like he doesn’t believe me.
I shouldn’t feel stung that he doesn’t have time for me. Whatdid I expect? The man’s entire existence revolves around hockey—strategy, plays, opponent analysis, team preparation—all requiring his complete attention. I’ve seen him at the cafe, totally absorbed in game footage, barely acknowledging my existence unless he needs a coffee refill. He was the same way as conditioning coach, always researching the latest strength-training techniques. Now he’s transferring that focus to his new role, which means there’s nothing left over for his fake girlfriend tagging along. Not that I’m complaining. This is a business arrangement between us, not a weekend away.
I just need to be the invisible, supportive, fake girlfriend who doesn’t create any distractions.
This strategy works for exactly ten seconds.
The moment Leo Anderson spots me standing next to Brendan, he nudges a few of his teammates. Brendan looks up just as they approach and gets a pained expression on his face.
“Finally.” Leo slaps Brendan on the shoulder as they circle around him. “Someone to keep Coach Marco in line. Not that he needs it. He normally works the entire bus ride. Most boring travel companion in professional sports.”
These guys: Miles, Brax, Leo, and Tate—along with Rourke and Jaxon—are Brendan’s inner circle. The ones who’ve known him long before Brendan became the assistant coach.
“Not all of us want to play video games on our phones the entire trip,” Tate Foster says, pushing up his glasses. “I’m with Coach on the benefits of quiet bus rides.”
Miles frowns. “Your girlfriend is anything but quiet, Sheriff.”
“Speaking of girlfriends,” Brendan says, interrupting. “You all know Scarlett, right?”
Leo’s mouth twitches. “Yes, we knowallabout your girlfriend.”
Brax coughs into his fist. Tate fights to hide his smile.
Miles grins. “Yep, we knoweverything.” Then he winks at Brendan.
I look between them, trying to figure out what I’m missing.
Brendan catches my eye and gives me a subtle headshake.
Oh. So the inner circle knows.The rest don’t, which is why he’s introducing me as his girlfriend—for everyone else’s benefit.