Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Dane
“You’re suspended for two games,” Tim says from the other side of the conference table. “I called in a lot of favors to keep it from being three.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
I can’t make myself look remorseful because I’m not. If I had to do it over again, I’d stop my fist from connecting with a ref’s shoulder, but I wouldn’t change anything else. The ref shouldn’t have inserted himself between me and Styles when I was midpunch.
“This isn’t a great look, but it’s a step up from the park bench incident,” says Tamara Curtis, the head of the Mammoths PR department.
Her tone has its usual edge. Only the guys who spend their off days inoculating orphans and rescuing cats from trees get her friendly voice. I’ll consider myself a failure at life if Tamara ever likes me.
“Josie, maybe you need to be out on the ice with him from now on,” Tamara says, sighing.
Tamara was the one who called this meeting, and so far, the only agenda item is berating me. My fucking head hurts and I slept like shit on the flight home. So I’m extra not in the mood to be sitting in this conference room with my coach, Josie and Tamara. It’s Tamara’s job to recommend how I spend my time while suspended. And if she thinks I’m volunteering at a food pantry on no sleep with this raging headache, she’s dead wrong.
“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal,” Josie says. “I’ve been keeping up with hockey headlines and everyone seems to understand that Dane wasn’t aiming for the ref. The ref just got in the way, but the rules are the rules and he had to be suspended. Fans love that Dane is a fighter. It’s part of the game and he doesn’t back down.”
I look at her, momentarily stunned. She just stood up for me, even though I was a complete dick to her on the flight home. I bitched about her cat, her taste in music and the light from her phone, but none of it was really about her. She knew that because she took it all in stride instead of fighting back like usual.
Tamara turns her sharp gaze on Josie.
“We don’t glamorize fighting and suspensions. Have you seen the pictures of Sam Styles’s face?”
Josie shrugs. “It’s hockey, not badminton.”
I sneak a glance at Tim. My coach’s lips are quirking with a smile. Josie is a quick study. She didn’t just show up and follow me around; she immersed herself in listening and learning about the game, the players and the fans. She gets it in a way Tamara never will, and Tamara has worked for the Mammoths for years.
“Listen, Tamara,” Tim says. “We just got in from a long night of travel. I’d like to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”
Tamara nods and looks down at her notepad. “Will you consider an apology?”
I scoff. “Absolutely not.”
Josie speaks up. “I think Dane should attend the games he’s suspended from to support his team. He can stop by the VIP boxes to meet fans. I also want to get him to the children’s hospital to meet the boy with cancer who started a Twitter campaign wanting to meet him.”
I don’t pay attention to social media, and I immediately feel guilty that a kid with cancer has been trying to meet me and I had no idea.
“Done,” I say. “But what if Josie wasn’t here? Isn’t it the team PR office’s job to know about that stuff? I don’t want people to think I blow off kids with cancer.”
Tamara’s eyes bulge. “Since when have you cared about your image?”
I look at Tim. “Isn’t it literally her job to be on top of things like that?”
Tim’s expression tells me he wants me to stop aggravating her so we can all get the hell out of here. Tamara’s like a wind-up toy fully wound now.
“We’re short-staffed and it’s all we can do to keep up with our regular work. If you want to know what’s happening with your social media, I suggest you look at it.”
Josie puts up a hand. “I’m here to look at it, and I am. Let’s stay focused.”
Tamara huffs out a sigh. “I need to clarify some things with Arnold. Now that Dane has a personal publicist, maybe the PR department needs to step away from things involving him.”
She might as well hiss and break out her claws. Josie cocks her head and meets my gaze for a brief second and I instinctively wink at her, silently telling her I get it.
“I don’t want you to step away,” Josie says. “I’d like us to work together.”
“I heard you think Dane should go on a date with a college student,” Tamara says. “Don’t you think college girls are too young for him?”
“She’s actually a law student. She’s twenty-four and he’s twenty-eight. I think it’s fine.”
Tamara sniffs. “Well, prepare for an onslaught of bad press when he dumps her and she’s on TikTok crying her eyes out.”
“Just one date,” Josie says. “He’ll be friendly” She shoots me a look. “With some coaching beforehand, I mean. There would be photos of the two of them smiling and having dinner. She’s not expecting a marriage proposal. She just wants to meet him.”
Josie stood up for me when I didn’t deserve it, and I want to return the favor.
“I’ll do it,” I say.
“Heaven help us,” Tamara mutters. “Don’t get yourself handcuffed to another park bench.”
Tim stands up. “I think we’re done here.”
Tamara stands too, not even looking at me or Josie as she says, “Thank you for your time, Coach.”
One of the equipment people loads our bags into my car, leaving my keys on the car seat, so Josie and I start our walk to the players’ parking garage. Tim waves at us and heads toward the front office.
Josie looks over at me and smiles. “I think she likes me.”
“Not as much as she likes me,” I quip.
I wake up and reach for my phone on the nightstand, my eyelids heavy.
It’s 5:42. A.m. or pm., I have no idea. I don’t even know for sure what day it is, but thanks to my suspension, it’s no big deal either way.
I get up and use the bathroom, then head for the kitchen. A savory garlic smell makes my stomach rumble. I’m thirsty as hell and hungry, too.
When I make it to the kitchen, I see Josie standing in front of the stove, her hair up in a big bun on top of her head. She’s wearing a gray tank top and black leggings, and my gaze wanders up and down her back, admiring the view.
Josie is pretty. I knew that the first time I saw her. But it’s not her looks making me feel drawn to her right now. Well...it’s not just her looks. I’m not blind.
I like that she doesn’t take an ounce of shit from me in private, but she publicly stands up for me. Who knows if she’d treat me that way if she wasn’t being paid to be here, but it feels good.
“Hey, sorry I woke you up,” she says, turning around to face me. “I dropped a pan.”
“It’s okay. Is it evening or morning?”
She smiles. “It’s evening. We got back here at eight thirty this morning. I slept until three thirty and I was starving for real food when I woke up, so I checked the fridge. It’s full of fresh vegetables and other stuff that wasn’t there when we left. What is this sorcery?”
“My housekeeper.” I walk over to a cabinet to get a glass.
“Nice. Well, I’m making a huge veggie stir-fry if you’re hungry.”
“I am. Thanks.”
I go over to the fridge and fill my glass from the water dispenser, drinking two full glasses before I sit down at the island.
“Am I supposed to offer to help?”
With a single note of laughter, she says, “Spoken like someone who definitely does not want to help.”
“I’m no good in the kitchen.”
She pops a broccoli floret into her mouth and stirs the food. “Okay, I have a noncooking job for you.”
“What is it?”
“Change Mr. Darcy’s litter.”
I scoff. “Not a chance in hell, Nosy.”
“I was joking. I want you to send a message to Abigail Matthews.”
“Who?”
“The law student who wants to go out with you.”
I groan, not in the mood to be fake friendly until I’ve at least eaten. A shot of whiskey would help, too.
“I’ll tell you what to write,” she says. “Find her on TikTok.”
I open the app. “Abigail Matthews?”
“Yep.”
“This is gonna be a pain in my ass.”
Josie sets a steaming plate of stir fry in front of me. “Why?”
“Because she goes by Abigail. Why not Abby? Same with Tamara. Just go by Tammy like a normal fucking person.”
Josie smiles wryly and makes a plate for herself, standing on the other side of the island to eat.
“Alright, I found her,” I say.
“Write this: Hey Abigail, it’s Dane.”
I look up at her, furrowing my brow. “It’s my account, of course it’s me.”
“So she knows it’s not from one of your people. Just write it like I’m telling you, okay?”
“Fine,” I grumble, typing out the message.
“I’ll be in Chicago in a couple of weeks for a game, want to grab some dinner?” she continues.
“Don’t ask me to use the word ‘cheers’ at the end. I’m not doing it.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a man-child. Just leave it like it is and send it.”
I finish the message and set my phone aside, digging into my food.
“This is actually really good,” I say.
“Of course it is. I’m a woman of many talents.”
Her confidence is hot. I try to figure out if she’s wearing a bra. No visible nip, so probably.
Damn. If she weren’t wearing a bra, that would mean she was trying to get me to look. Even though we don’t get along, today feels like a truce of sorts.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring, though?