Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
BLAKELY
“Hello?”
“Blakely, it’s Huxley Cane.”
Sitting on a chair in my bedroom since there’s no bed, I try not to sound nervous. “Huxley, it’s so nice to hear from you.” Especially since I’ve been avoiding you.
“I’m going to get to the point. I want to know if my offer is of interest to you or if I should move on to finding someone else. As far as I’m concerned, you’re who I want for the job, but I don’t want to force you into anything.”
“I appreciate that,” I say as I stare at myself in the mirror across from me.
I’m sitting in my robe with my hair and makeup done for the wedding.
Just need to slip on my dress. “And I don’t mean to hold you up, but I guess I’m just trying to figure out what I want to do with my career. The direction I want to take.”
“Can I help in any way? I’d like to remain neutral. If anything, I can appreciate your ability not to jump headfirst into a new career.”
“Well, I do have a few questions.”
“Ask away.”
I play with the tie on my robe as I ask, “The moving thing. I don’t know if I want to leave Vancouver. That’s been a big holdup for me.”
“What if I said you could work remotely?”
My interest piques, but doubt also creeps in. “I don’t want coworkers to resent me if I don’t move to Los Angeles.”
“I’ll say this. We have people who work remotely as well as in the office.
It’s really their preference. We run our business with the notion that not everyone can work productively in an office and not everyone can work productively at home.
Would it be nice to have you in the office?
Of course, but we offer both options for a reason, to see what best suits each employee.
You being in Canada won’t be any different from someone else who lives in LA and works remotely.
The great thing about technology now is that with a click of a button, you’re transported into the conference room whenever we need you. ”
Relief fills me as I lean back in my chair. “And you mean that?”
“One thing you need to know about my brothers and me is that we’re not going to bullshit you, Blakely. If I say it, I mean it.”
“Of course, I’m sorry for even questioning you.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s a fair question. What else?”
I cross one leg over the other. “Will I be working directly with the athletes? Because right now, I work more with the VIP customers. It’s like seventy-thirty.
I’d prefer to work more one-on-one with the athletes.
It’s what I find the most fun. I wanted to get into player relations but slipped into VIP sales and marketing.
I’ve learned a lot, and I’ve loved this job, but if I rotate to something new, I want to rotate into a direction that brings me the joy I’m looking for. ”
“The only people you’ll be working with are the athletes signed up with The Jock Report and their appointed staff.
It’s all about interacting with the players, ensuring their voice is heard and portrayed.
There will be occasional travel requirements, but nothing that takes you away from Vancouver for long periods of time.
A lot of the job can be done through online conferences.
” He pauses, and I take a moment to think about that.
It sounds ideal. It sounds surreal. “I chose you, Blakely, because you’re composed, professional, intuitive, and dynamic, and I know our athletes would thrive under your care. You’re what I’ve been looking for.”
“Thank you,” I say as I consider his words.
“You’re composed, professional, intuitive, and dynamic.
You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for.
” I’ve held off answering for too long. Any other person would have moved on, but Huxley Cane sees something in me, something he likes.
And honestly? I’m already thriving from that confidence in me .
Imagine what it would do for me if I worked for him?
If I had that level of professional guidance and encouragement daily?
I like the idea of working more with the athletes.
And I can’t beat the money and the financed housing.
Not to mention, it might be fun working from home . . .
I close my eyes and before I can stop myself, I say, “I’ll take the job.”
“Good,” Huxley says, not even bothering to make sure I mean it. Probably because he knows it’s an offer I’d be stupid to refuse. “I’ll have HR send over the official letter. If you sign by Monday, we’ll include a signing bonus. I look forward to working with you. I’ll be in touch.”
And then he hangs up, leaving me feeling stupefied.
I slowly lower my phone and stare at myself in the mirror.
Holy shit, did I just accept a new job?
I bite down on the corner of my lip. What was I thinking?
I know what I was thinking . . . the job was too good to turn down but, God, now I have to tell Penny. I have to tell my boss. I have to tell Halsey. Not that . . . not that I’m sure he’d care. It’s not like I work directly with him. Still.
Just the thought of Halsey, though, makes my stomach churn with nerves.
The past few days have been slightly eye-opening for me.
Halsey has been different. And not in a bad way, just, for lack of a better word, different.
I know that makes no sense, but I thought I was getting used to his quiet spirit.
That was until he spoke to my landlord and helped me pick out a dress.
Now I don’t know how to act around him. I feel awkward because I liked it.
I liked the way he protected me.
The way he stood up for me.
The way he treated me like I was precious.
And what does that say about me?
As a woman in the sports industry, fighting and clawing my way through it, I’ve felt very strongly about lifting women up, protecting our fight for equal opportunity, and here I am, mildly swooning over him standing up for me.
There’s a light rap on my door. “Blakely, you okay?”
Speak of the devil.
I stand from the chair and open the door, poking my head out.
That’s when I see him in a dark blue suit with a black lapel, black button-up shirt, and black shoes.
His pants cling to his thighs and then stop just below his ankles, showing a touch of skin.
His shirt isn’t fully buttoned, as the top two are left open, giving me a slight view of the impressive chest beneath his clothes.
He’s left his scruff on his face but has cleaned it up, and his hair is gelled, faded on the sides with a thick tuft styled in a messy way, making him look so incredibly adorable. ..but also lickable at the same time.
“Hey, do you need help with your dress?”
His deep voice crests over me like a warm shower, heating the blood in my veins.
What the hell is happening to me with this man?
“Uh, yeah, do you mind?”
“Not at all,” he says as I open the door.
I give him another once-over, this time, lingering on that little patch of skin over his chest. Clearing my throat, I say, “You look nice.”
My palms start to sweat, which is insane because I’ve seen this man in a suit many times. So many times that I think I’ve seen him in a suit more than in a hockey jersey. So what’s different now?
I’ve said he’s attractive before.
I’ve noticed how hot he is when he takes his helmet off on the ice and his hair is wet from sweat, his eyes zoning in on his competitors.
And I’ve clearly lived with this man to know that he smells like a freaking dream fresh from a shower of aphrodisiacs.
So what’s changed? Is it because I’m no longer looking at him from behind my very clear I-have-a-boyfriend glasses?
He presses his hand to the buttons on his suit jacket and looks down at himself. “Thank you. I tried to pick something that would go with your dress but not be too matchy. I can change if this doesn’t work for you.”
“No, it works.” I wet my lips as I give him another scan. Oh, it works on so many levels.
“Good.”
And then silence falls over us.
Because I’m awkward. And now I’m thinking about him on another level.
A level I shouldn’t even consider.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—Halsey is not my type. I’ve never thought of him as someone who checks the boxes. However, I’m learning that maybe my boxes have changed.
He’s...protective. Charming. Attentive. Engaged. Genuine. I don’t feel as though I’m competing with him like I did with Perry. He’s thoughtful. Contained. Generous. Handsome. And sexy.
It’s as though he’s got everything I never knew I wanted. Which means he currently checks all my boxes.
We stare at each other for a few seconds before he shifts uncomfortably and says, “Uh, your dress?”
“Right.” Shit, come on, Blakely .
Spinning on my heel, I grab it from the hanger that’s hanging on my closet door.
I step into the bathroom and barely shut the door before tearing off my robe and tossing it over the sink counter.
I slip into my dress, deciding to go without a bra, since the boned bodice does all of the work, and I zip the dress up as much as I can before I head into the bedroom again, where I find Halsey standing in my room, hands in his pockets, staring at the floor.
When he notices I exit the bathroom, his eyes slowly rise until they find me and then . . . they roam.
They roam from my feet, up my legs to where the slit stops at my upper thigh, to the waist of the dress, and then the bodice that clings so expertly to me. I catch his Adam’s apple bob before he steps up to me.
“Turn around,” he says in a low, dark voice.
My mouth goes dry as I turn around and then shift my hair to the side.
His hands find the zipper, and he slowly pulls it up until it’s fully secure. To my surprise, he takes my hair from my hand and drapes it back over my shoulders.
My eyes connect with his when I turn around, and I quietly say, “Thank you.”
He moves his hand over his jaw. “You look gorgeous, Blakely.”
My cheeks flame. “Thank you. I, uh . . . I just need to slip on my shoes.”
“Need help?” he asks.