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“Best I show you,” she says with a frown as she pulls her phone out of her purse.
She then proceeds to push a few keys on her phone before sliding it across the table for me to watch the video that is already playing. Even with the dim lighting and poor sound quality, you can still make out that the video was recorded in a bar on someone’s phone. At first, the person is filming their friends having a good time, but then something must stray their attention away from them because the phone starts zooming in on the other side of the bar. It doesn’t take long for me to see that it’s a fight that sparked this amateur filmmaker’s interest. Even though the bar is crowded, you can still see a beast of a man strike down someone half his size with just one punch. The assailant’s face is always turned away from the camera, so it’s impossible to have a clear image of this short-tempered stranger. It’s only when the bouncer arrives and begins to escort him out of the premises that he turns and faces the camera. Even though the footage isn’t the best, I’m taken aback by what I see. I was expecting furious rage in his eyes, but all I see is sadness—deep-rooted sadness in the most spectacular hazel eyes I have ever seen.
“That’s Nathan Wilder, Boston Guardians’ best grinder,” Piper groans as she slides the phone back to her purse. “And, to my annoyance, he’s also one of my clients.”
“My condolences,” I retort, before grabbing my wine glass.
The chilled white wine does the trick to ease the tension that has decided to lay heavy on my shoulders all of a sudden. I’m unsure why his eyes even caused such a reaction out of me, but I stitch a comforting smile to my lips for my best friend regardless.
“Yeah, well, I’m going to need more than that. I’m going to need a miracle to clean up this mess. If I don’t come up with something, I’m afraid Nathan’s days on the ice are numbered.”
I stretch my arm out and squeeze her hand, much like she did to me earlier.
“I’m so sorry, Piper. Is there anything I could do to help you?”
The words have barely left my lips when her sullen expression quickly morphs into one of hope.
“Actually, there may be something you can do.”
“Whatever you need,” I assure, patting her hand.
“I want you to take Nathan on as a client,” she swiftly replies, making me retract my hand from hers as if scorched by such an absurd request.
“You have got to be kidding me?” I begin to laugh awkwardly.
“Did you, or did you not just offer to help?” she counters with an arched brow.
“When I said I wanted to help, I meant taking you out one night to blow off some steam. Matchmaking for a hockey player, who, by the way, seems like he’s a bit unhinged and in need of some serious anger management classes, was not what I had in mind.”
“He’s going into counseling for that, so that front is covered,” she is quick to brush off. “What he needs is something that tells the world that he’s not a menace to society.”
“Wait… are you asking me to take him on as a client… for a publicity stunt?”
When Piper’s direct gaze flickers off my face and drops to the tablecloth, I get my answer.
“No. Hell to the no. If you want to do damage control on this guy, find a handler. You can’t throw a rock in Boston without finding one of those.”
“And what do you think sports agents are? Glorified handlers. Please, Lottie. I know he’s a little rough around the edges, but I promise you he’s legit. The media will have you believing he’s this big bully loner, but I can tell you right now that’s not the case. Aside from a few close friends on the team, he pretty much sticks to himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s alone voluntarily. Nathan… he’s just… well… lonely. He’s never said as much to me, but I can tell. And aren’t you the one who always says that no one deserves to feel that way? That everyone deserves to be happy?”
“Having a life partner does not mean that they should be responsible for anyone’s happiness,” I rebuke, uncomfortable with Piper cleverly using my own words against me, successfully tugging at my heartstrings.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waves me off, unbothered. “But you have to admit it would do wonders for his public image. A woman on his arm would definitely mellow him out. Even his coach thinks it’s the way to go.”
“Piper, this is not what my business is about. I’m trying to find love for people who are genuinely looking for it. People who are ready to build a life with someone. It’s not a gimmick or something you can use to trick the media,” I scold, offended by her suggestion. “If your hockey player needs a woman to hang on his arm, as you so put it, then there are plenty of escort services around that you can call to give him the girlfriend experience.”
Not that Nathan Wilder looks like he has any trouble in that department.
Not with those eyes.
I highly doubt he pays for a woman’s company.
I bet all he has to do is snap his fingers, and every single woman in the tristate area would show up at his doorstep.
“That’s not what I need, and that’s not what I’m asking of you, Lottie. You saw the video. Can you honestly say that the man you just saw wouldn’t benefit from being in a warm, loving relationship?”
I bite my inner cheek while Piper continues to break down my defenses, one sledgehammer blow at a time.
“All these hockey players know is how to beat their way against their opponents in an ice rink just so they can hit a puck into a net. Very few of them have any time to date, least of all, find a good woman willing to put up with their busy schedules of arduous training and traveling around the country all the time. These guys need a break on the ice, but they need one in life, too. All I’m asking is for you to at least interview Nathan. See if he’s a good fit. If not, then don’t take him on as a client. But at least talk to him.”
