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Why is that equal parts relieving and disappointing?
“If I did date--”
Tate opens the door and looks out at us. “Aunt Tess, where’s my stuffed dog?”
“Gone. I hope you said a proper goodbye before flushing him.”
“Aw, man.”
He closes the door and Dom gives me an amused look. “He’s in the bag with the towels, so you know.”
I half laugh and half sigh. “Pitch it, please.”
“We’re good?” he asks.
I nod and he opens the door for me to walk back inside. I’m not sure I’d call it good, but also... I really want a working dryer, so maybe now isn’t the time to question the white knight that seems to have walked into our lives.
Chapter Nine
Dom
* * *
“What the hell?”
I smile as our team’s newest rookie, Gray Pollard, gets his first look at the sweater hanging in front of his locker for his first game as a Coyote.
This is my favorite prank to pull, and the whole team gets in on it every time. I replaced Pollard’s actual sweater with a toddler-sized one. The tiny sweater has every detail right, including his name and number, but it’s about twenty sizes too small.
“What’s up?” Ford asks him from a nearby locker in the Tampa locker room.
Pollard gestures at the sweater. “Is this a joke?”
Ford gives me a confused look. “Didn’t you say the front office mentioned something about the vendor messing up sizes?”
“Yeah. They mixed up the orders for the team and the gift shops at the new arena.”
Pollard scoffs. “Well, what am I supposed to do? I can’t wear that.”
What a sucker. He’s been playing pro hockey for a couple of years; he should know rookies get pranked hard.
“If you suck it in, I think you’ll be fine,” Beau says.
Pollard’s gaze snaps to him. “Is this a fucking prank?”
“I mean...” Beau shrugs. “Ask the equipment intern; he’s the one who hangs up the sweaters.”
I already coached Andy, our current intern, about how to respond to this. I’m about to casually follow Pollard as he looks for Andy, but my phone dings from inside my locker with an incoming text.
Taking it from the shelf, I read the message.
Tess: It’s like it never happened! Everything is dry and there’s no funky smell.
I texted earlier to ask her if things were good with the bathroom, and this is her response. I’m glad it all worked out; Sergei came through with a commercial-grade fan.
Dom: Great. How was your Monday?
Tess: Eh. Mondayish. Hannah forgot her lunch and a customer tipped me a nickel after I filled up his coffee repeatedly for two hours. But it’s taco night, so...I guess it balances out.
