“Hey, Cheyenne.” The wind picked up, blowing some of his hair around and he raised a hand up, smoothing it down before putting both his hands in his pockets. “What’s up?”

“You had no authority to send out those invites for a charity gala.”

Straight to business. We had a hockey game to get to.

He blinked a few times. “Whoa. Okay. I didn’t think you’d actually care that much. I just figured it was a one-time—”

“You sent those invites out and you opened up a hornet’s nest for me. No authority. None. You fucked up.”

This was always my favorite time.

Someone did something wrong, and now was when they either owned up to it or …

He scowled. “Are you kidding me? You can’t come at me—”

I stopped listening.

I knew what path he’d chosen.

He chose wrong, but he didn’t want to feel the bad for making a bad call. Therefore, he was now going to either deflect, attack, or say some excuse. The excuses were the best because the ingenuity was the genius. If an excuse was given, somehow it’d lead back to the person wronged and how everything was actually their fault.

Somehow him not getting my approval for the event would be my fault.

Him sending out those invites would be my fault.

Newsflash. None of this was my fault.

I interrupted whatever he was saying. “Company policy is that you needed a unanimous decision. I am one of those voices. I never gave approval. You violated a company policy.”

He started talking again. I tuned in, hearing, “If you’d just—”

I tuned out again. He was now attacking.

Me again. “No matter how you spin this where I’m at fault, you know I’m not. You fucked up. You.”

He stopped, his face all red and puffy, and he clamped his mouth shut.

He was seeing me, seeing I didn’t give a fuck what he was going to say, and then he growled. “If you had explained why—”

“No. This is where you don’t get the floor. I will be bringing you in front of the board.”

“What?! You can’t—”

“I can. Now.” I gave him my ticket. “Enjoy the hockey game.”

I was going, but I wasn’t sitting in my seats. Sasha and Melanie were pulling ranks. They wanted to enjoy the game with me, so after Dean looked down, frowning at my ticket, he crumpled it up and stalked off. Sasha and Melanie stepped out from around the corner.

Melanie frowned at me. “You gave him your ticket?”

I nodded.

Sasha was frowning, too. “Why?”

“I told him to come down, that he could go to the game if he wanted. He said yes, but he didn’t know that I was going to ambush him.”

“Cassie told me that you have season tickets. That seat is going to be better than any seat we all get together.”

I shrugged.

Sasha was giving me a harder look, her eyebrows pulled together. “You’re setting him up.”

Melanie glanced at her, then to me. “Huh?”

I only shrugged again, but I was.

I would lose if I brought this to the board. They wouldn’t be happy Dean didn’t get my approval, but they would deem his cause was worth it. I didn’t want that precedent. And after Dean found out my family connections next Saturday, I didn’t want him doing something like this again, because he would. He would find out about myself and Cut, and that’d make it so much worse.

I was doing this to get in his head.

I wanted him to feel bad.

I wanted him to feel indebted to me.

I also wanted it to look on paper that if I was actually upset with him, why would I give him my season tickets, because at some point down the line, this could be a him versus me sort of thing, and even though I wrote the grant to get Come Our Way so much money in the first place, it was Dean who continued to bring in more money. The board for Come Our Way liked Dean, a lot, and they should.

But I didn’t like how he went over my head. There’d be consequences.

“Let’s go to the game.”

“Wait.” Melanie grasped both our arms, stopping us. “What if Cassie sees me?”

I frowned.

Sasha inclined her head. “That was the point.”

“I know, but…” Melanie flushed, glancing away. “I’m just really nervous to see her.”

Sasha took her hand from her arm and held it a second. “You’ll be fine. Cassie will see you and know she’s made a dumb mistake.”

“You’re right.” Her head lifted a bit higher and she squeezed my arm before letting it go. “Let’s go.”

Turns out, that’s not what happened.33CheyenneThe game was insane.

They were tied at one to one. The Bravado were pushing hard back at the Mustangs. Cut’s line was tired. The second line was tired. The third. Fourth. All of them. There were so many shots on goal, too, so I could only imagine how tired the goalies were.