Page 36 of Playing His Game

Elsie paused in her purposeful stride, and turned her blond head toward Maddison—and did a bit of a double-take on Mo. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

“Mo here wants to pay Adam a visit.”

Elsie looked him up and down, her brown eyes appraising. “Right now?”

“That was the plan.” Mo gave his most charming, impish grin. “Maddison says you can help?”

“Icould. I’m the journalist liaison. You’re not going to make me regret helping you if I do, are you?”

“I would never!” Mo said with a hand to his heart. “I’m just a simple girl who wants to congratulate the big strong man on his victory.” He fluttered his lashes.

Elsie huffed. “They’re going to love you. And something tells me you know just how to handle the bullshit.” She turned and strode down the hallway. “Keep up, lover boy!”

Mo gently squeezed Maddison’s arm. “Thank you. It was wonderful to?—”

“Yes, yes, go. Before you lose her.”

“Thanks,” Mo said again and hustled after Elsie.

“Until next time,” Maddison called after him.

Mo waved over his shoulder.

Elsie stopped him just outside a door through which Mo could make out milling reporters.

“Stay. I’m about to get players in front of the mics.” She gave him a long look. “You’vehadmedia training, right?”

“Do you think the Du Ponts would let their only child out in public without it?”

She snorted and ducked into the room.

It turned out that Elsie was a genius. From his spot behind the door, Mo could hear all of Adam’s interview.

Elsie had the journalists well-trained too, apparently—it started off with a softball question about strategy. Even Mo could’ve answered without engaging a single brain cell.

He expected Adam to answer the same way all hockey players answered—in practiced, meaningless clichés. Instead, Adam broke down the thought process: they’d applied pressure on this defenseman because he’d just been called up from the minors, or that winger because he was playing on his off side tonight, and by the time he wound up his answer, half the eyes in the room were glazed over from information overload.

Adam might actually be low-key kind of a genius too. Mo would’ve bet half the reporters in the room had forgotten they had questions about Mo’s presence.

After a few seconds, the journos realized Adam’s train of thought had concluded, and restarted their own.

“Adam, you’ve been playing in the league almost a decade now, but unless I’m mistaken, you’ve never had a significant other in the stands before. What did it mean to have your boyfriend, Moritz Du Pont, in the crowd tonight?”

Mo froze, remembering Adam’s spiel from their drive the other day.First out gay hockey player has first out gay boyfriend in out gay stands!He would’ve winced if all that media training hadn’t given him a perfectly smooth public mask.

“Ah, well, you know.” From this angle, Mo could watch the red creep up the back of Adam’s neck. “I think all the guys would like to say we try to play our best all the time, but when you’ve got someone special in the stands, it does make it easier to dig a little deeper and push a little farther. It’s good motivation for sure.”

Fer sher, echoed Mo’s brain in Adam’s Eastern Canadian accent.

And then the whole thing derailed with an internal record scratch when the next reporter asked, “Do you have any plans for how to celebrate?” and the ticking time bomb of Mo’s patience wentding.

Before he knew it, he was pasting on a smile and sashaying into camera view. “Don’t answer that, handsome, or we’ll have the whole Internet breaking down our door for an invitation.”

A ripple went through the scrum as the assembled vipers adjusted to having a secondary target. Adam looked back too—surprise took over his expression before he could school it. Guess he hadn’t expected Mo to actually ride to the rescue. Always good to be able to pleasantly surprise your lover, fake or not, Mo supposed.

He lifted his eyebrows in silent question and got a tiny nod in response.

Time to give the people what they wanted. Or at least what they deserved. He leaned down and smacked a kiss on Adam’s sweaty cheek. “And I’m very sorry, ladies and gentlemen, gays and theys, but entry to tonight’s postgame event is by invitation only.”