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“Anytime, Blondie.” I tugged the end of one of her long blond curls.
She swatted at me, then took me in from head to toe. Once she’d finished her perusal of me, she surveyed the rest of the group. Her lips were pressed together, making it hard to tell whether she approved. “Hannah and Liv went over the plan with each of you, right? After pictures with Puff, we’re going to put you all at different stations to help run the activities and interact with the guests.”
Hannah and I had met yesterday, and she’d filled me in. I was staying with Puff so I could show the kids how to do behavior call signs. Avery had agreed to help me. She’d be the one giving him the fish as treats because that crap wasn’t up my alley. I had limits, even with Puff, and his love for dead fish was definitely one of them. Bird shit was another. We’d had a few heart-to-hearts about the time and place to shit—namely, when I wasn’t around. The smell was something I wanted no part of.
Once the guys had all confirmed that they understood the plan, she moved us over to where we would pose for photos with Puff.
When she left to track down the marketing team, Beckett stepped up next to me, as if he’d been hovering, waiting to reprimand me.
In a voice so low I was worried he’d been possessed by a demon, he said, “Tom Wilson loves his daughter, and he hates drama. So be fucking sure of what you’re doing. He won’t hesitate to insist I send you back to AAA or trade you.”
I wanted to call it a threat, but when I forced myself to meet his eye, what I saw there looked more like a concerned warning.
My stomach sank at the idea of being traded. This was where I was meant to be. Not because of my teammates—although as I watched them play with Puff, I had to admit I loved the assholes—but because ofher. I couldn’t help but seek her out. As if she were my true north, I found her instantly. No. I couldn’t leave her behind. Even seven weeks in Florida seemed too long.
With a sigh, I deflated.
Beckett slapped me on the back, making me go rigid once again. “But I will say I’ve learned that certain things in life are worth the risk.”
Huh. That sounded an awful lot like permission to break the rules.
As Beckett walked away, I took in the scene again. The full room of people, the face-painting and balloon animals. Avery’s bright smile. I wanted this to go well for her, so that was all that mattered today.
Both guys dovefor the white ball as it bounced. Emerson knocked Chris’s paddle out of the way, and the ball soared past them and smacked the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the snow was coming down in puffy flakes, making it feel like we were in a snow globe.
“Great shot.” Gianna and I tapped paddles. I had kicked off my heels when we arrived, and next to Gianna, who had to be close to five-ten, I felt like a little girl.
Bo had headed home soon after the exhibit opening so he could beat the snowstorm, but Gianna was staying the night since she had another meeting with the marketing team from the zoo coming up. They were working to incorporate more of the sponsors into the details of her designs, like she had done for the Puffin Penguin house, and wanted to review specifics before she sketched the initial mock-ups.
“What’s the score now? Twelve to two?” Gianna asked, with a smug look directed at her brother.
Chris flayed her with a glower he typically saved for when he was pissed off on the field. It was one I hadn’t seen in months. He was not the best loser.
Beside him, Emerson was all but giggling. “I can’t believe we both missed that one.”
Chris huffed. “Bambi, I get that you can’t hit the ball to save your life, but stop blocking me.” He tossed his paddle onto the table. “Time to switch teams.”
“I think we’ve tried every combo at this point.” Emerson waved a finger between Chris and Gianna. “And you two have hated them all.”
“He doesn’t want to team up with anyone but Avery, ’cause you and I both suck.” Gianna rolled her eyes.
I wasn’t all that great at ping-pong, but I was better than either of them. Even hampered by my tight navy dress, I had a better chance of getting the ball than they did. So although Chris was happier when we paired up, it made our teams grossly unbalanced.
Emerson was still as happy as a kid on Christmas morning. He was terrible at the game, yet he always kept his cool. Always had fun. In fact, I’d yet to ever see Emerson truly upset. If I could bottle whatever made him so freaking happy all the time, it’d be an instant bestseller.
“I think I’ve improved a lot.” Emerson beamed like he hadn’t just been insulted.
Chris rubbed his forehead. “I can’t believe I’m saying this after this disaster of a game, but yeah, you have.”
If this was an improvement—the guy had maybe hit one out of five shots—I couldn’t imagine what he’d played like when they’d purchased this table last spring.
“Just takes practice.” Emerson shook his empty beer and wandered toward the kitchen. “Who wants another?”
“Me,” Chris called a little too eagerly.
“I’ll take one more. It’s only ten,” Gianna said. “Although it feels like a million o’clock.”
“Hell yeah, it does.” Chris ran a hand over his face and sighed. His eyes were rimmed red, and his face sagged just a little.
