The Risk (Briar U #2)(79)

25





Jake





“For fuck’s sake, Connelly!”

At the incredulous exclamation, my head flies up and I swiftly shove Brenna’s sweater down to cover her bare tits. She dives off my lap and into the neighboring chair. But it’s too late. Pedersen’s not an idiot. He saw us, and he knows exactly what we were doing.

“Coach, hey.” I clear my throat. “We were…” I decide against lying. I’m not an idiot, either. “I’m sorry,” I say simply. “This isn’t the place.”

“No shit,” he snaps. “I’d expect this kind of behavior from Weston or Chilton, but not you, Connelly. You don’t usually screw around on the job.”

Coach doesn’t even acknowledge Brenna. He stalks to the front of the room and grabs one of the laptops. From the corner of my eye I see Brenna smoothing out the front of her sweater. She wiggles discreetly, and I realize she’s trying to put her bra cups back in place.

“I’m having a meeting with the assistants and forgot this,” he says tightly. “And here I thought you were being a conscientious player, studying film on your own time. But boys will be boys, won’t they?” There’s a sharp edge to his every word.

Brenna warily tracks his movements as he tucks the laptop under his arm and stalks to the door. “Get your guest out of here, Connelly. This is no place for girlfriends.”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Brenna blurts out, and I know it was completely involuntarily because she briefly closes her eyes, as if mentally scolding herself for speaking.

Pedersen finally spares her a look. A long, intent one. During his scrutiny, his frown gets deeper and deeper until his eyebrows are practically touching. “You’re Chad Jensen’s kid.”

Shit.

Brenna blinks. For once, she doesn’t have a smartass comment locked and loaded.

I want to lie and tell him he’s mistaken, but he clearly recognizes her. He places the computer on a desk near the door and slowly approaches. His cynical gaze takes in Brenna’s rumpled sweater, her disheveled hair.

“We met at a banquet a couple years ago,” he tells her. “Yale alumni dinner. You were still in high school at that point. Chad brought you.”

“Oh.” She visibly swallows. “Yes. I remember that.”

“Brianna, is it?”

“Brenna.”

“Right.” His beefy shoulders lift in a shrug. “Even if we hadn’t met, I’d know you from anywhere. You’re the spitting image of your mother.”

Brenna does a terrible job of hiding her shock. Or maybe she’s not trying to hide it. She openly gawks at my coach. “You knew my mother?”

“We went to college together.” His tone is completely wooden, and his expression lacks any and all emotion. Which isn’t out of the ordinary. Pedersen’s emotional repertoire is limited. His go-to ones are anger and disapproval.

He continues to stare at her. “You really do look like her.” Then he shakes his head, turning to address me. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing Jensen’s daughter.”

Brenna answers for me. “He’s not. This is just…it was nothing. So, please, don’t say anything to my father, okay?”

Pedersen arches a brow at me as if to ask what I think.

I shrug. “She’s right. It was a one-time thing.”

“The only reason I’m here right now is because it’s pouring outside and Jake didn’t want me waiting in the rain for my Uber. Speaking of which,” she says with false brightness. She holds up her phone. “My car is here. I just got an alert.”

The back of her phone case is facing Coach, while the screen faces me. Which means I can clearly see that there’s no alert.

“I should get going,” she says hastily. “Thanks for letting me wait out the storm, Connelly. Nice to see you again, Mr. Pedersen.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I offer.

Pedersen glances at me. “You might as well take off, too. There’s already been one power outage. I don’t want you sitting here in the dark if the storm knocks out the power again.” With that, he stalks offs.

I release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Shit,” I say.

“Shit,” Brenna echoes. “You think he’ll tell my dad?”

“Doubtful. They’re not best buds.”

“Exactly. What if he snitches out of spite?”

“That’s not really Coach’s style. He prefers to let out all his aggression on the ice.”

We reach the lobby to discover that the apocalypse is in full swing beyond the huge front windows. The sky is nearly black. Gusts of wind smash tree branches against each other, and one branch has already crashed onto the hood of someone’s car. Thankfully it’s not Weston’s Mercedes, which I borrowed again. I might as well start calling it my own, considering how infrequently Brooks drives it.

My gaze shifts from the windows to Brenna, who’s zipping up her leather jacket. “I think you should come back to my place,” I suggest seriously.

“Of course you do.”

“I’m not kidding, Hottie. That storm looks deadly, and you know the roads are going to be terrible. Bad weather turns drivers into maniacs.” My voice grows firm. “Wait it out at my place. Please.”