“Thank you for coming in,” Mr. Cordero told him, grinning. “I’m sorry it has to under these circumstances.”

To give him credit, Kulti glanced at me one more time before ignoring the fake gestures and words coming out of the man sitting across from us. “What is this about?”

A low whistle came out of his mouth, and I felt my jaw tightening.

“It has come to my attention that you and Miss Casillas had a small incident regarding a fan, and I would like to apologize for her behavior.” His dark eyes swung to me, imploring me, demanding me to say what he wanted me to say.

I pursed my lips together and fought the great big breath caught in my throat. I was being treated like a dumb little kid who got caught stealing and had to take the goods back to where he’d taken them from. It was embarrassing.

“Miss Casillas, isn’t there something you want to say?”

No.

“There is nothing to apologize for,” that great deep voice next to me claimed, literally shocking the hell out of me.

“You shouldn’t be spoken to—“

The German cut off a person who hated not having the last word, and I felt a spike of pleasure fill my chest at the flash of annoyance in Cordero’s eyes. “Her judgment was sound. Nothing was said that didn’t need to be said. I don’t require an apology from either of you.”

“But—“

“I was out of place with my behavior and we have come to terms with it, haven’t we, Miss Casillas?” the sauerkraut asked, turning his attention to me.

Why, yes, yes, we had, hadn’t we? I nodded. “Yes, we have.”

Cordero’s eyes moved from one player to the retired one. I didn’t miss the pink blossoming on his neck. That sure as hell told me I needed to get out of the room as soon as possible before I said something I would regret. “Coach Kulti, excuse me, but Miss Casillas’s actions are unacceptable. I can’t allow—“

The man sitting next to me raised a hand to cut off the team’s general manager. “It’s acceptable and we’ve dealt with it. I’m going to be upset if she’s punished for being honest and upfront with me, two traits that should be celebrated instead of persecuted. Nothing else needs to be said. Is that all this meeting was for?” the German asked, already rising to his feet.

What the hell had just come out of his mouth? He’d saved me. Hadn’t he?

“Yes, that’s all. I just thought you deserved an apology for—“

“I don’t. If I wanted one, I would have gotten one.” Those brown-green eyes slid over to me. “I have somewhere to be now.”

Cordero was too busy looking at Kulti to notice me getting to my feet and grabbing my bag. I felt like a coward, but at least I’d be a coward that still got to play. I think. “I need to get to work, too. I think we’re going to have a great season!”

Yeah, I hauled ass out of there. I didn’t even bother telling Mr. Cordero’s rude minion goodbye as I left. I could hear another set of footsteps as I made my way toward the elevators. A moment after hitting the down button, Kulti stopped next to me, watching the numbers go up on the small screen above the doors.

Well, in less than two hours he’d made my dad’s day, shaken my hand and saved me from saying words I either would have regretted or hated myself for. I knew damn well when to be gracious. Eyeing him, his muscular silhouette, the reddish-brown stubble that had grown in on his face over the course of the day, and his overall proud face, I scratched my cheek and made myself turn to face him completely. There was no half-assing this.

“Thank you for that,” I said, “in there.” Like he didn’t know what I was thanking him for. Idiot.