Page 76 of He Has Charm

“You do. It’s why I love working here. Because we take care of our clients even when they’re not big stars and when they’re well past their prime, we really care.”

“Care about some more than others,” he teases.

“Yes. I care a great deal about Knight. I…”

“No need to make rash confessions to me. You’re still an agent and Knight is still a client and it’s still against the rules—”

“Fuck the rules,” I say. His eyebrows shoot up because swearing and especially disregard for the rules is so not me. I’m a stickler for rules, for dotting the I’s and crossing all those endless T’s. Heat rises to my cheeks in horror at my disrespect, but also partly in defiance. I gulp down the emotions and calm myself. “I mean—"

“I know what you mean. I was about to say that there’s always exceptions to the rule. Let’s see what we can carve out.” I nod, my eyes getting watery, making me blink. I resist going to him for another fatherly hug, but I don’t have to. He comes to me and puts his arms loosely around me, patting my back.

“One other thing,” I say, “If I’m going to stay on, I’ll need a weekend in May off to go to my brother’s graduation.” It’s a small thing, but it’s something I’m look forward to, seeing my family, financially safe and intact and me able to spend time with them without worrying.

“You got it,” Jett says.

* * *

Managing to get my shit together I spend the rest of the afternoon arranging to sublet my apartment until the lease is up and notifying my landlord that I won’t be renewing. I pack all my kitchen things and everything that’s not large furniture and arrange to have it shipped and stored in the Boston area.

I need to get back to Boston, to Maddox, to present him with the contract offer for a cooking show to air on a local sports news network. I’m a little nervous about springing the surprise, but it’s a good thing. Exactly what he needs. It’s my other proposal that I’m more worried about.

One problem at a time.

We were initially given a week to move out of the townhouse, but I negotiated us some time because Maddox needs to figure out where he’s going. So do I.

And I hope to god it’s the same place as him.

I board the plane and I’m in such a frantic state that I stumble on the threshold, the heel of my shoe getting stuck. My gut tumbles and my chest squeezes and I yell.

“No!” These are my new Christian Loubaton shoes, the ones Maddox gave me, and I can’t possibly lose them again because they’re more precious to me than anything I own. They represent my heart’s desire. They have nothing to do with my job or VIPs and everything to do with the most important things in life, giving and caring and those people who mean the most to me because they’re giving and caring and generous of heart. And not to mention hotter than the devil.

I close my eyes, take a calming breath and with the image of Maddox’s smile, the one that crinkles his eyes, I jiggle my foot a little and the heel comes loose. Intact. Halleluiah. Now I only hope that the rest of me stays in tact as I throw everything on the line for a chance at a life with Maddox.

Twenty-Six

Maddox

No more hockey. The words reverberate through my whole body and I slam the sauté pan down hard against the stovetop burner. It’s a sad day when I abuse my pots and pans out of frustration. So what if there’s no more hockey? You had seven years in the NHL and you should be fucking grateful for that. That’s my conscience or dad’s ghost talking. Plus, I’m still living and breathing, aren’t I?

And there’s Harper. Do I really have a shot at a real relationship with her? That idea sends a reverberation of another kind through me making hockey seem like a small blip in my life. I turn on the gas jet to heat the pan then slice a couple of cubes of butter from the slab. After a minute I throw them in and they land with a satisfying sizzle.

Jason Santos texted me this new healthy chicken recipe to try out that he thought I might like. I’m surprised that he’d think of me. That I’d be anywhere on his radar when it comes to cooking, humbles me. As I lay out the chicken and get the mallet to tenderize it, my phone rings.

It’s Jett. My gut clenches. I pick up the meat mallet and put the phone to my ear with my other hand.

“What’s up?” I slam the chicken with the mallet with enough force to make the salt shaker jump.

“What the hell are you doing?” he says. I laugh and bang the mallet again.

“Cooking. What are you doing? Calling to chat?”

“Calling with good news, you ungrateful s.o.b.” There’s a teasing note in his voice and I wonder what kind of good news my ex-agent could possibly have for me.”

“Really? You always call your ex-clients with your puppy learns to roll over? Because I don’t know what other kind of good news you’d have for me.” He laughs.

“Glad to see your retirement hasn’t soured your sense of humor.”

“Just wait.”