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"Oh, I don't know," Chantel said. "I've never been in a cop car before. It's kinda exciting."
I frowned at her. "Chantel Margaret Clinton, you have weird ideas when it comes to fun. Next time, leave me the hell out of it."
She wrinkled her nose. “Abraham Wingfield Clinton, you're getting boring in your old age."
I barked a laugh. Old age? I was barely in my mid-twenties. I played for the best pro gridiron team in Australia. I changed girlfriends like other people changed their socks. In no way was I boring. Not a chance.
"I'm not old or boring. I just don't wanna spend the night in the slammer because of a prick like that." I nodded toward Erik.
He curled his lip at me.
I curled mine back at him. I might have mouthed an expletive or two. He might have mouthed some back.
"You're right," Chantel said. "You're not old. I'm starting to wonder if you'll actually ever grow up."
"Not if I can help it," I replied.
Not if I could help it.
CHAPTER 2
GRACE
I absently brushed a cat fur off my jumper and resisted the urge to pull out my phone and check my lipstick. The last time I looked in a mirror was about three minutes ago. I was almost certain I hadn't gotten it all over my teeth in that short amount of time.
Just to be sure, I ran my tongue over the front of my teeth and straightened my skirt.
It wasn't every day I got to meet the boss. Not my immediate boss, I'd met her already, but the big boss. The owner of the Storm Valley Rapids.
"Mr Thomas will see you now, Grace," Mary said from behind her big reception desk. She gave me a wink. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite."
I responded with a watery smile. "I'm sure he doesn't." I wasn't worried about that. I'd heard Mr Thomas fires people if he takes a dislike to them. That was much scarier than the idea of being bitten. Okay, my priorities might be a bit off, but that was where my brain went.
"Be glad you're not Bam right now," Mary said, a rueful grimace on her face.
"I know, right?" I wouldn't trade places with him today. On the other hand, people like him were why the Rapids hired people like me.
I nodded to Mary and knocked on the boss' door before I pushed it open.
Carson Thomas sat behind a wooden desk which looked like it cost more than I made in six months. Okay, nine months.
I knew from an internet search that he was in his late fifties and onto wife number four. He was easily recognisable from the photos online, but he was better looking in person.
If a girl was into billionaires who changed partners like I changed lipstick colour. The word player came to mind. Not my type at all.
Reclining on a leather couch off to the side of the room was Carson's oldest child, Rubie. The daughter of his second wife, she was close to my age. Right now, she seemed more interested in her phone than anything or anyone else in the room. With model good looks and flaming red hair, she had about a bajillion social media followers.
If her father was trying to groom her to take over as team owner some day, he'd have some work to do. She oozed disinterest.
I flashed Carson a smile. "Good morning, Mr Thomas. My name is Grace Hardy. I'm honoured to work for the team. Can I say how excited I am at the incredible opportunity to be publicist here?"
And crap, I was gushing. I hadn't meant to do that. Making a fool of myself was not how I planned to start this meeting.
If it bothered him, he didn't show it. Instead, he smiled and spoke in a rumbly voice.
"Please, call me Carson. It's nice to meet someone who gets so much enjoyment from their work."
From the couch, Rubie snorted.
