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“I agree. Jimmy seems pleased with what we’ve come up with.”
“He does, and he strikes me as the type to be direct about not being happy with something.”
“You caught that, too?” I ask with a smile.
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, he’s nice. But I think he won’t hesitate to speak his mind.” Katherine is around my age, fresh out of college and eager for the opportunity we’ve been given. She’s bubbly, blonde curls bounce around her when she speaks animatedly about an idea. Her rosy cheeks and big blue eyes radiate kindness. I already love her a little.
Jimmy, on the other hand, is tall, always looks impeccably put together and screams all business. Opposites sometimes make the best coworkers though, so I’m not worried. About that, anyway. I do worry that folks will think I’m only here because my daddy landed me the job. Nepotism isn’t a game our family would play though. I earned the position fair and square. That doesn’t mean I won’t have to prove myself, likely I’ll have to work harder than the rest of my team until they see how talented and capable I am.
“I agree, but I’m good with direct. I prefer that to people holding back and the job suffering for it.”
“For sure,” Katherine agrees when a knock sounds on the shared office door. The space isn’t very big, especially for us to be sharing, but I don’t know how much time we’ll be spending here. Mostly, we’ll be at the Iceplex, youth camps, community outreach programs, and the arena.
“Hey, ladies,” Greta calls from the doorway. She’s the executive secretary to the General Manager, older than us by a couple of decades, but sweet and gives off big ‘team mom’ vibes. “I’m showing the guys around before they meet with the coach. This is Gavin Vaughn and Cillian Wylder. Fellas, meet our fan development team, Isla and Katherine.”
Cillian is looking down at his phone until Greta says my name, and that’s all it takes… four little letters to gain his full attention. His face snaps up to mine and a thousand emotions flash through his eyes. I imagine they mirror my own. He takes a big step toward me, and a cold shiver shoots down my spine.
It’s been years. It could be years more and I still wouldn’t have been ready to see him again. Or to feel the bitter sting of lost love and the burn of hurtful hatred.
“Isla,” he breathes on a smile, wide and bright.
What the fuck are you so happy about?
“Wylder,” I say, erasing all evidence of the feelings coursing under my skin. The pounding in my chest is so violent, I fear Cillian will hear it if he gets close.
“Oh, of course you both must already know each other from the Timberwolves days,” Greta says, laughing in the soft, tinkling way that she does.
“It’s nice to meet you, Vaughn. Welcome to the team,” I politely greet the other man. Vaughn is older than us, more seasoned in the sport. His smile is polite and kind, but his vision bounces between me and my ex-boyfriend as if he’s figuring us both.
Surely, the tension, or whatever this is, between us is as thick as an autumn morning fog.
“Great to meet you, too,” Vaughn says with some humor before exchanging pleasantries with Katherine.
“No welcome for me?” Cillian’s voice carries a playfulness that once made me excited. Now, I know he’s probably used that same tone to bed who knows how many women.
I glare up at him, ready to deliver a scathing reply, but his eyes remind me of Sadie, and I falter.
Damn you, Cill.
“Let’s not pretend we’re friendly.” His smile dims. I wish I felt good about it, but I can’t seem to feel much except the horror that I will have to talk about the daughter he seems oblivious to. Soon.
Because surely this isn’t the reaction I’d be getting from him if he knew about Sadie and just wanted nothing to do with us. Right? There are no tight muscles, no gazes being avoided. By him, anyway. The man in front of me looks like someone who has missed me and is happy to see me.
What the fuck.
“We were once. Maybe we could try again,” he says. It sounds so sincere, but this is the same man that ripped my heart out and didn’t look back.
It would be rude and unprofessional to tell him to get bent, but if he ever knew me at all, he’ll catch on by the scathing look I send his way. Instead of getting the reaction I hope for, he beams.
“I’ll find you,” he says confidently. “After I meet Coach, I’ll find you.”
An ominous promise if I’ve ever heard one.
5
CILLIAN
Obviously, Isla still hates me.
