Chapter Six
Winter
Wednesday rolls around too quickly, and I don’t like the nerves pecking at my conscience as my afternoon meeting with Moskins approaches.
When I got home on Monday night, I noticed that my leftovers were joined by two other to-go boxes.
I wanted to believe it was a mistake—or maybe a twist of fate that meant I got at least three extra meals out of one lunch.
But my assumption that the waiter put someone else’s order in my bag by accident was quickly dispelled when I saw that the other half of Moskins’s lunch was in the third box.
It wasn’t a coincidence that I wound up with more food than I ordered, especially not after telling him about Cody. Or, evidently, my love for chicken.
Because the second meal is the chicken parmesan, which I didn’t want to order at lunch for two reasons.
One, because it cost twice as much as the chicken tender basket I’d inevitably gotten.
And two, because I didn’t want to risk getting the sauce on my shirt and proving to the professional athlete that I am, in fact, a mess.
But there it was, proof that the sarcastic man who I’d sat across from for nearly two hours listened. It was oddly…nice. I blame him and his stupid, thoughtful consideration for the buzzing under my skin since I woke up this morning knowing I’d see him today.
Thankfully, I’ve managed not to dump coffee on myself. When I walk into the conference room, I’ll be stain-free and professional. And maybe, if he doesn’t piss me off, I’ll even thank him for what he did.
That one act of kindness made me confident my plan for him could work.
Because deep down, I think Thomas Moskins is a good guy who pretends to be bad.
Why, I’m not sure. I could also be totally wrong.
My dating history would indicate that I am a terrible judge of character. But that’s beside the point.
I gather my things and walk over to Janel’s office at the other side of the room, knocking on her open door and smiling when she looks up from her computer. “I’m about to go set up in the conference room. Are you ready?”
She checks her watch and curses under her breath, pushing herself to her feet. “I didn’t realize it’d gotten so late.”
Janel isn’t often frazzled, but she looks discombobulated today. “Is everything okay?”
The small smile she offers me is tired and not at all convincing. “I had a lot of calls to deal with this morning because we’re a bit short-staffed.”
My brows knit together. “What do you—”
“Come on,” she urges, gently pushing me out of her office and guiding me to the conference room. “How are you feeling? Good? Nervous?”
Like I want to pee my pants, is the answer I want to give her. I definitely do not say that though. “I feel great.”
My chipper tone is clearly as believable as her phony smile because she gives me an arched brow.
I tone it down. “I’m a little nervous, but I feel good about what I’ve come up with. It’s mostly up to him to agree to do these events. That’s going to be the hardest part.”
Janel hums her agreement as she unlocks the door and flicks on the lights. “You came up with a solid plan. We haven’t even considered partnering with some of these local organizations before.”
I blush at the sound of her approval. I’d worked tirelessly to create a list of places for Thomas to make appearances. Organizations that our community appreciates. If they see one of their newest members helping the less fortunate, it could give him a boost that he desperately needs right now.
“Moskins—” I start to say, before Janel’s eyebrows dart up at my informal address of him, making me wince. “Er, I mean Mr. Moskins. Uh…Thomas—”
“I told you I don’t go by that,” the man himself says, walking in with his usual scowl. Does he ever smile? He sort of did during lunch. It was more like a smirk, but same difference.
“It’s Moskins,” he says, dropping into the spot he sat in last time. “I’ll accept ‘Royal Liege,’ though. Once, I was nominated for Sexiest Rookie of the Year, so I’ll also answer to that.”
Before I can help myself, I ask, “But did you win? Because you can’t claim that title if you didn’t earn it.”
His cheek twitches like he’s refraining from smiling, but he shakes his head. “Alas, I got second place.”
I make a thoughtful noise. “Then I guess you’re not the sexiest rookie of the year.”
Janel clears her throat. “Moskins it is then,” she says, bringing the conversation away from who is or isn’t sexy.
His eyes are on me when he replies, “Good.”
I force a smile that feels stiff, and the prickles traveling along my limbs spread to my stomach until heat settles there. This man, who looks far too casual and closed off, is not the same one who bought me food to take home. He’s cooler. Stiffer. On guard. A different persona.
What are you hiding? is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it there until I suffocate my curiosity.
“Hi,” I greet, my voice a pitch higher than normal as his eyes remain on me.
So much for the confident professional woman I planned on being today. At least there’s no coffee stain.
Moskins doesn’t greet me back as he leans back in his chair and drums his fingers along the edge of the table.
“Let’s see these grand plans that you spoke so highly of during our last meeting.
My team is talking about benching me during our preseason games, and I don’t want that to happen for obvious reasons. So these better be good.”
No pressure there, I grumble to myself. What happened to the playful version of him from thirty seconds ago? Did he forget Janel was in the room? Is this a big game for him? The longer I’m around him, the more questions I accumulate.
I walk over to him and place the sheet down with a schedule of events over the next month and a half.
Six weeks isn’t a lot of time to work with, but it’s the only availability he has between now and when the Fairbanks Fireflies start their preseason matches, according to the game schedule on their website.
I had to cross-reference to triple-check the dates worked and confirm with his manager, Scott.
Moskins scans the sheet with an unreadable expression before I see the slightest movement in his jaw. “These are charities,” he states, finally glancing up from the paper. “And…Furrever Home?”
He’s not addressing Janel.
I stand tall and nod. “Furrever Home is an animal shelter. Fairbank’s largest one.”
“I would hope so,” he says. “It’d be an unfortunate name for a nursing home.”
I ignore that remark. “The rest are local nonprofit organizations that mean something to our city. They’ve done a lot of good in our community—helped the less fortunate, offered comfort and support when people needed it the most. If you want people to take you seriously, then you need to participate in the culture here.
Perhaps if you do it first, you can convince the rest of your team to hold an annual event at some of them to raise awareness together.
You know, hand out holiday meals. That sort of thing. Consistency is good for image.”
Moskins blinks. “Is this a Hallmark movie or something? I’m a professional hockey player, not a kitchen server. I’ve donated to charities before. This is nothing new.”
“That’s where I disagree,” I tell him calmly, earning a skeptical look from him.
“There’s a difference between signing your name on a check for a hundred dollars and actually showing up to participate in events that benefit people.
Everybody needs to see you in action to understand that you’re willing to step up. ”
“I write checks with far more zeroes than that, sweetheart.”
There’s that name again.
At least he’s not calling me kid. I don’t react to the pet name as much as I want to.
I also refuse to let myself soak in the fuzzy feeling that settles into my stomach hearing it, despite warning him that I don’t like it.
“Good for you. I’m sure the organizations you’ve donated your hard-earned money to are thankful.
But this isn’t just about a tax break anymore.
It’s about making an actual difference. You can start by giving up your weekend plans to serve food at the soup kitchen this weekend. ”
Janel, who’s been watching us like she’s tuning in to a tennis match, steps in. “The community believes in building strong foundations. Now that you’re signed with a professional team attached to our city, it means showing them you want to do the same.”
His jaw tics. “What if I don’t want to build strong foundations here?”
Before Janel can answer, I say, “Then you made a mistake by signing your contract.”
My boss doesn’t scold me. Mostly because she probably would have said the same thing. She’s never one to mince words, even if she does it lightly. Janel might not kiss our clients’ asses, but she takes a more political stance as the person in charge.
“It’s no secret that you’ve given a lot of money to charity,” I add, sitting down and pointing to my folder.
I’ve done my research on him. I’ve seen the praise from old headlines that emphasized how much he’s given away.
But that was then. This is now. “But Fairbanks is the type of place that does more than throw money around. We care about our people. When something happens, we come together. When tragedy strikes—” I swallow, remembering what Fairbanks did for my sister and me when my parents were killed.
“They help their own. You signing with the Fireflies means you’re part of our community now.
They’ll be a lot more receptive to you if they see you’re willing to show up the way others do. ”
When Kourtney and I lost our parents, the local churches and food banks donated meals and groceries to help us get by. A few of the neighbors even raised funds from the community to cover the first year’s bills, since they knew my sister was taking guardianship while in college.