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I set the fork on the table. “Everleigh, I didn’t come here to eat cake. I want to discuss what’s going on with the team.”
She held up her index finger. “And we will. But first, I need your opinion on these damn cakes. They’re all pretty good.”
“Everleigh, you know that I don’t eat sugar in the regular season.”
She smiled and dug a bite from the chocolate cake with white icing. “Then it’s a good thing it’s pre-season. Let them eat cake.” Her smile was devious as her lips wrapped around the fork.
“I wish I had a recording of that.” The tabloids had dubbed her the Ice Queen, and not in a nice way. Quoting Marie-Antoinette wouldn’t help her rich girl image. “The public would looooove that.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She grabbed the fork from my hand and scooped a heaping of chocolate cake onto it.
“They’d be sharpening up the guillotine before the end of preseason—”
She interrupted by jamming the chocolate cake into my mouth. It was the best cake I’d ever eaten. “It’s good. I’d pick that one,” I said after swallowing.
“You haven’t even tried the vanilla or carrot.”
“Carrot cake? Is this for a church yard sale? Who in their right mind would serve carrot cake when they could serve chocolate?”
“Just try them.”
I sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t get down to business until I’d confirmed that the chocolate was the winner. I quickly took bites of the other cakes and handed her the fork. “The chocolate is the best. The white one is pretty close.”
“That’s what I thought too.” She smiled and took another bite of the chocolate cake. One of the things I liked about Everleigh was that she wasn’t afraid to eat. It was actually a huge turn on for me. There was nothing I hated more than going out for dinner with a woman and watching her push salad leaves around on her plate.
“Why are you picking out a cake?”
“I’m not.” She scraped the remains of the chocolate cake onto her fork. “This is for my father’s wedding. I missed the official tasting and Gold Digger insisted that I try the cake. I have to give my opinion on it for some reason.” Disdain dripped in her voice and her eye roll wasn’t subtle.
“Ohhhh. So you don’t like what’s-her-name again?”
“Marisa.” Everleigh growled out the name. “And I don’t like her at all. But I’m trying this new thing – being nice.”
I barked out a laugh, immediately regretting it. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I know what people think of me.”
I had seen what the magazines wrote about Everleigh King, and while there was a reverence for her business savvy, they weren’t kind about her personality. But I knew she had a soft side that she kept very well hidden. “They don’t know the real you.”
The whir of the refrigeration system clicked off, and the sudden silence of the room felt louder than the sound system at the Coliseum blaring Metallica. “Sure they do.” Everleigh hid behind her public persona like it was protective equipment.
“It’s okay for people to know that you’re not always…” I didn’t want to use any of the words that were commonly used to describe Everleigh King.
“A cunt?”
I coughed, and a piece of cake lodged itself in my throat. I pounded myself on the chest.
Everleigh laughed. “I hear it all, Gunnar. You don’t have to protect me from reality.”
“I was going to say Ice Queen. I’m pretty sure the tabloids, as trashy as they are, don’t publish the C-word.”
Everleigh tried to hide her smile. “You can say it.”
“I’d rather not.”
Everleigh tilted her head. “Why?”
“I was taught to watch my language in the presence of ladies.”
