Page 44 of He Has Charm

“Thank you for your concern, but he’s really not that bad. He’s naturally going to attract ladies’ attention because he’s so good-looking, but he’s really harmless. Maybe even misunderstood.” I slow down my ramble because I realize going overboard to defend him isn’t a good look. “He has hobbies. Did you know he likes cooking? Well, he does and we’re going to focus on that in his spare time—if he even has any because he stays late at practice you know. And—”

“I get the picture. Sounds like you have him under control.” Her voice is so skeptical it sounds like she means the exact opposite—that he has me under control. Or maybe that’s my guilty conscience talking. But it’s not true. It can’t be. I won’t let it be. There’s far too much at stake.

“Just do me a favor,” she says, “and keep a watch out for Nora. I don’t think she’s finished with her angle. That photo of you and Knight could have been killer if we didn’t counter it with our own. She’s a wily old reporter and she’s got it in her head that you’re his handler—which is true enough—but she seems to want to create another scandal. I would have thought that kind of thing was beneath her, so I’m not sure how far she’ll go.” She lets out a breath.

“Yes, you’re right. I’ll watch out for Nora. On the other hand, I thought Maddox handled her very well when she—”

“He did all right. I give him a C+ at best. He needs to stop smiling so much. Tell him to frown and growl like a real hockey player, would ya?” My eyes widen and I’m not sure if she’s serious, but I hear no signs of amusement at all.

“Right. You’re right. I agree. He needs to be more serious about hockey to instill confidence in the fans and the management. Good news is I think the players understand—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. If he could score a hat trick tonight or tomorrow night that would help everyone’s confidence that he’s serious about hockey.” I agree, but it’s a tall order. The Brawlers are playing one of their toughest competitors in the league, and those Devils are gunning for us, especially with our home ice advantage two nights in a row.

“I’ll give him your message. And your vote of confidence.” She snorts and barely says, “Later,” before the line goes dead. Okaaay. I don’t know whether I should admire her or be afraid of her—or afraid of becoming like her. If Shelly is right, I’m headed straight for becoming Delaney’s double. Old and alone and with nothing to live for but my job. On the other hand, she’s successful, has plenty of money, and she’s well-respected—more like feared as the ballbuster, but same thing, right?

Jogging the rest of the way home, I laugh at myself. I’m only twenty-seven and far too young to be worried about ending up like Delaney. Also, my more immediate concern is all those bills and responsibilities that come way before my love life. As soon as I get out from under my debt—which will be as soon as this season ends and I collect my bonus and my raise—then I’ll take a breather and think about romance.

But by then I’ll be back in New York City and Maddox will be out of the picture. So what? I can’t think of him romantically at the end of the season any more than I can now because he’ll still be a client. And what the hell am I thinking? He’s so not my type. And more importantly, I’m so not his type.

The only reason he’s flirting with me now is because I’m conveniently available. By the end of the season he’ll have his pick of hordes of female admirers, so many gorgeous successful women to choose from that I’ll be forgotten as a footnote in his little black book—or the virtual equivalent—and we’ll be back to business acquaintances with our only contact being via email and an occasional phone call.

Resisting the wistful pull, when I let myself in the front door, I look around the entry with boxes still stacked among the formal furniture at various stages between packed and unpacked. Welcoming the need to work, after I shower, I attack the job of unpacking with gusto. By the time I’m finished, my stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten much today in spite of all the talk about cooking. Of course we have no groceries in the house besides the breakfast things I bought this morning and, like an addict, I happily pile grocery shopping onto my mental stack of things to do.

For now, I’ll need take out. I pick up my phone for the Uber Eats app and notice I have a text from Maddox.

It’s a photo of an enormous juicy steak captioned, “thinking of U.”

Why do I find steak so sexy all of a sudden? I wipe the grin from my face but I can’t exactly stop the yearning in my sad neglected lady parts so easily. Tonight’s outing can’t come soon enough. A surge of guilt rises fast, slamming me in the conscience like I’m cheating on Maddox. Holy shit, that’s so unfair of my conscience. Heaving a breath, I get a grip and text him back.

Never mind me. Think hockey. Break a leg. Score a goal or two or three. I mean good luck.

I hit send before I think better of it, before I realize I’ve rambled even in my text. I’m about to shut down the phone when I see three dots. He’s actually texting me back? Now? I would think he has something better to do five hours before game time. Okay, well, maybe five hours is plenty of time to squeeze in a text. His text pops up and my chest squeezes the sense out of me—not that there’s much left I there. My nerves tingle as I read it.

I cant Blieve u txt in ful sentnces and u ramble 2 LMAO Miss u sugr buns

My heart stutters over the words Miss u. Everything in me shouts I miss you too, but I don’t text that. My pounding heart and confused emotions paralyze me between fear of wanting him and the fear of losing everything—including my heart—if I take a chance on him.

Luckily my phone takes charge and rings me back into reality with the call that I’ve been waiting for from the children’s hospital. I press the call button quicker than a game show contestant, like I’ve been thrown a lifesaver knowing full well I’m still a long way from escaping the crashing waves of tumultuous emotions that I find myself in.

Three phone calls and a ransacking of my closet to find something not pinstriped later, I’m ready to go out, dressed in slim black jeans, a cream cashmere sweater, short black leather boots, and my red puffy jacket with the earmuffs and gloves stuffed in my pockets just in case.

I rush into the crowded bar and spot Shelly sitting on a stool surrounded by dudes and holding onto one empty seat next to her. She’s talking with her hands as if she’s using sign language, but it’s her special brand of body language that accompanies her colorful words. I reach her and the gentlemen step aside.

“And here she is.” She throws up her hands in triumph and spins me around to face the three men before I can hug her in greeting.

We attract plenty of male interest, but I’m not into it. I should be, because heaven knows it’s been too long since I’ve had sex with a man. Not since I got out of law school two years ago. What’s with my stupid misguided conscience anyway? I’m not cheating on Maddox because there’s nothing between us except a contract.

Yeah, my stupid conscience says, what about that kiss?

Shelly introduces guy number one with the blue tie and I immediately forget his name though he has a harmless smile. Maybe I prefer a dangerous smile, because when he asks me what he can get me to drink, I tell him I’m not drinking, I only came to watch the game.

“Can you step a little to the right so I can see the screen?” He looks confused and I turn to the screen while guy number two with the black sweater lines up.

By the time Shelly introduces me to black sweater guy and the third, least appealing guy wearing glasses with so much glare I can’t see the color of his eyes, I don’t even have it in me to smile back. Plus the Brawlers are losing one to nothing.

Lucky for the three guys, Shelly keeps up their spirits with her ready laugh and sassy winks.

I pick up my ice water, not sure why I’m going with Knight’s drink of choice when he’s not even here unless you count the space he’s taking up in my head, and congratulate myself on rebuffing three perfectly decent men before the end of the first period. Jett calls and asks where I am and how I’m doing.