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Hayden
Istretch my legs out in front of me as my fellow passengers file in.
Ahhh, I love first class.
It’s especially nice since I’m in the front row with only the bulkhead before me. And—bonus!—so far, nobody has taken the window seat to my left.
Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts.
Chuckling, I cross one ankle over my knee and run my hand down my dark-wash jeans. When I lift my gaze, the bubbly blonde flight attendant assigned to first class makes eye contact.
Again.
She’s already checked on me twice in the past eight minutes or so.
I smile cordially, and she scampers over.
Reaching me in lightning speed, she gulps in a breath of air and asks, “Would you like a bottle of water, sir? It’s nice and cold.”
Oh, what the hell.
“Sure,” I reply.
As she hands me the indeed icy cold water, she says, “Let me know if there’s anything else you need or want. I’m here to make your flight as comfortable as possible, Mr. Harrington.”
Ah, so she does know who I am. I suspected as much. This explains the enthusiastic and more-than-necessary fawning over me.
I’m pretty sure this flight crew is from here in Chicago, so it’s no real surprise. I’ve played hockey for the Blackhawks for the past four years.
Speaking of which, I kind of expected to stay longer. But after a big-ass mistake on my part—a fling with the coach’s daughter that didn’t end well—the writing was on the wall.
Sure enough, I was traded a little over a week ago.
Since we’re halfway through September, I’m currently on my way to Georgia to start with the Atlanta Thunder, the team I was traded to.
The Thunder is an expansion team with a decent inaugural season under their belt. They had a very good top line, but their center, an OG veteran who was looking to play a little more hockey before hanging up his skates, decided to retire in May.
That left them with a big-ass opening, one that needs to be filled.
I’m a power forward who can play left wingorcenter. I’m pretty sure that’s why the Thunder decided to take a chance on me, even with my bad-boy reputation.
But I can’t get too far ahead of myself. I’m not a shoo-in for the top line. I’ll need to work for it.
I heard through the hockey grapevine that the Thunder’s second-line center, a dude named Finn Norath, will also be vying for the job.
Too bad for him, I intend to earn it.
When I see something I want, I go for it.
Sometimes it lands me in trouble—like with the coach’s daughter—but most of the time it works out in my favor.
I think about the coach’s daughter now and how it irks me to no end that a damn low-level marketing intern for the Blackhawks busted my ass. If it wasn’t for her, no one would have ever known we’d had a fling.
It was over anyway.
So why did that intern divulge my secret?
Why did Addison Knight have it out for me?
