Chapter 16 #2
The Hartmanns own the team, and it’s hard to imagine their patriarch, Frank Hartmann, being a flirt. His bushy white mustache and round pink cheeks give him a jolly old grandpa aura, but who knows what he was like in his younger years.
But Tucker, standing here in his stylish suit, his brown hair fashionably messy and a devilish grin on his face? Yeah, I can picture him being a flirt quite easily.
“Why do you look like you’re only half awake?” Lauren asks me when I don’t respond. She puts her hand on my back and guides me down the hall as she and Tucker continue walking.
I groan. “It’s not even 9 a.m. yet. Being at work this early should be criminal.”
Lauren laughs and tells me I’ve worked from home for too long. She, on the other hand, has worked here for the past two years—first in their marketing department before being promoted to the Director of Marketing—after years of being a stay-at-home mom to her twin girls.
“All right, get to that meeting before you’re late. Tucker and I are meeting in my office,” she turns and points down the hall, “right down there to the right, if you want to stop by afterward.”
After saying our goodbyes, I turn toward AJ’s office and her assistant tells me to head on in.
I find her sitting at her desk and Patrick sitting across from her next to an empty seat.
I wish Patrick wasn’t here yet, because I’d really love to dish about the Bermuda trip with her before we get started.
She’s like everyone’s no-nonsense big sister—she’ll spew some wisdom and set you straight without trying to spare your feelings in the process.
I can always count on her for completely objective and reliable advice.
Then again, should I tell my boss I slept with my stepbrother? Perhaps not.
Patrick turns toward me as I sit down, gives me a brief smile, and says, “All right, first things first, training camp starts for the rookies next week.” I take a notepad out of my bag as he starts listing off his vision for what he’d like to see on the social media front for the rookies, and I take notes.
My mind is already spinning with different ideas, approaches to introducing each player that are more innovative and fun than what he’s asking for.
But I’ll need to think about how to best broach my ideas with him, and I don’t want to do it in front of AJ because I know she’ll support me and he’ll capitulate to her.
I want him to say yes because my ideas have merit, not because one of my friends says he should do what I’m suggesting.
Once he’s done going over all the rookies, he asks, “Do you know Aidan Renaud?”
“I know of him. My dad is his agent, but I’ve never met him. He was out with an injury all last year, right?”
I used to go to all the Rebels games with my dad when I was a kid.
But then I was in New York for four years for college, and in Park City for another three years after that.
I moved back to Boston with Lauren a couple years ago, but since her husband, Jameson, is also an agent and former player with season tickets, I usually offered to watch her twins for home games so she could go with him.
I’ve only been to a handful of games since moving back, and most of them were this past year while Renaud was out with his injury.
“Yeah,” AJ confirms, “his injury was more severe than his original diagnosis of two broken fingers. He ended up having several hand surgeries, and he’s coming back this season.
He’s an exceptionally talented player, but he’s volatile as hell on the ice and with the media.
He needs a whole PR makeover.” She huffs out a laugh.
“I’m going to need a little more info than that,” I say.
Patrick launches into a list of all the times Renaud has lost his temper and said the wrong thing to the press, a few times he’s done stupid shit off the ice that still made the team look bad, and the fact that he’s one of the biggest brawlers in the league.
He sounds like an asshole, exactly the type of guy who gives hockey players a bad name. I know that’s the kind of thing AJ hates, so hopefully he gets his shit together.
“This season will be about me working with him on that last part,” AJ says, “and you two figuring out how to make him look better to the public. He’ll be on a short leash this year and is up for a contract renewal at the end of the season.
I’d love to have lots of reasons to keep him.
He’s got so much talent, and if he could just harness it for good, it would be a no-brainer.
Instead, he’s exceptionally good at giving me reasons to trade him. ”
I chuckle, thinking about how the same was true of team captain Ronan McCabe, whose animosity toward AJ was legendary until last season. Now, they’re practically married.
“All right. Make him look good. Will do.”
“Here’s his file,” Patrick says, picking up a manila folder that’s sitting on AJ’s desk in front of him.
“I’ll need you to put together a media profile on him.
He’ll be here this afternoon, so we’re hoping to introduce you to him then and give you some time to interview him about his return to the team.
Then Natalie will stop by to shoot some pictures of him at the rink.
I’ll need you both to spend some time at training camp next week, too.
He’ll be there early to work with the trainers because he’s coming off injured reserve and is getting back into the swing of things. ”
Patrick hands me the file, right as AJ says, “I’m so relieved that you’re with us part-time now, Morgan. I know our social media is in good hands.”
“Thanks,” I say, wondering if that means she didn’t feel that way with Tatum running things. I’d been working with and coaching her prior to her medical leave, and things were getting better—but not as quickly as they should have.
I flip open the manila folder and glance down as Patrick explains what information I’ll find in there. But I’m no longer listening.
Every single bit of my focus and effort is being spent on making my lungs work and keeping my expression neutral.
Because right here in my hands, staring back at me, is a man with shaggy dark hair, dark brown eyes with flecks of green and amber, and a full beard.
But even with all the excess hair, I recognize him immediately. Danny.