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“Should we get dinner delivered and catch some baseball tonight?” I asked him. “We can order from the place that makes that turkey and vegetable thing you guys like.”
He let out a soft woof and I gave a scratch behind his ears. I’d surprised myself by picking baseball with my dogs over Alexa tonight, despite my sexual dry spell.
Maybe I just needed a night to decompress. There was no reason to overanalyze it.
Chapter Seven
Sariah
* * *
For whatever reason, I wasn’t particularly nervous when I got to the arena for my first day of work. I was calm, centered, and determined. This wasn’t just a job; it was my career. One that I’d worked toward since college. Now that I was here, I was one-thousand-percent focused on learning the ropes and starting what I considered to be a new phase of my life. I’d filled out an application for the new apartment I’d been looking at and they’d approved me, so now I had six weeks to pack and get ready to move. I had a direct path to where I was going next in life and it felt good. Almost like being a real grown-up.
Almost.
“You’re probably not going to remember the names of all the people you’ll meet today,” Lance told me as he introduced me to other employees. “But everyone is pretty friendly so I’m sure it won’t take long.”
“I hope not.”
We’d just finished a tour of the executive offices where I’d met everyone from the general manager of the team to head of security for the arena. There were a ton of security protocols, which was nice, but also a little nerve-racking since I had to remember key codes—different ones for different areas—and keep track of a badge. Losing it would cost me a hundred dollars, so I’d be cognizant of that.
“Okay, I have a few things to do before lunch,” Lance said. “I’m having food brought in for the sales and marketing team and we’re meeting in Conference Room A at noon. We’ve needed to have one anyway, so I timed it to include you. I know it’s your first day, but with us heading to the playoffs, we need to come up with a plan for the summer because I’m positive no matter how far we go, season ticket sales will go up this year. They always do after a playoff run.”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Okay, I’ll see you at noon. The tech guys haven’t set up your cubicle or laptop yet, and I’m sorry about that, but it should be done by the end of the day. So until the meeting, please make yourself at home. Wander, get to know the place, talk to people—and I apologize again for not having your station set up.”
“It’s no problem.” I smiled. “I can entertain myself until it’s time for lunch.”
“Great.” He smiled back and headed in the other direction.
I liked him as far as bosses went. Obviously, I didn’t know him very well but he was about forty, seemed to know a lot about both hockey and St. Louis, and while friendly, he was all business. I figured I could learn a lot from him.
I decided to make a quick trip to the ladies’ room now, while I technically didn’t have anything to do. I headed down the hall and paused in front of that damn picture of a half-naked Nash Reilly. He was insanely good-looking. Not my type, but there was no mistaking his appeal. He was broad shouldered with a set of abs that could make women clench in anticipation. If there was one thing about him that was my type, it was his biceps. I loved firm, rounded biceps on a man, and while I couldn’t touch a picture, I had a feeling his whole body was firm.
“He’s pretty, right?” A gorgeous dark-skinned woman came to stand behind me, her eyes following mine.
“I’m just amazed that a pro hockey player would do an underwear ad,” I said, chuckling.
“It’s been nothing but good press for the team,” she replied, grinning. “Ticket sales are through the roof since that ad came out. As if women think they’re going to get close to him just by coming to the games.”
“Are you in the sales department?” I asked her.
“No, I’m the video coordinator,” she replied, holding out her hand. “Monique Devereaux.”
“Hi. I’m Sariah Ansari. Today is my first day.”
“Welcome!” Monique’s smile was warm and friendly. “This is a great place to work. And the eye candy doesn’t hurt.” She glanced in the direction of Nash’s picture and we both laughed.
“I’m not really here for eye candy,” I said. “But it’s nice to look at now and again.”
“Well, I’ve been married for fifteen years and I’m always here for the eye candy. That’s why it’s called eye candy—because we can look without touching.”
