Chapter 3
I pushthrough the large double doors that lead into the middle level of the arena’s stadium seating and look around for Parker.
Below, the sound of skates cutting across the ice is punctuated with shouts, grunts, and then a sharp whistle from Coach Davis.
A week into my new job, I have yet to wander into the hockey rink part of the Summit. I’ve been told numerous times I’m welcome to drop in whenever the guys are practicing if I’d like to watch, but this is the first time I’ve actually done it. And I’m only here because Parker invited me to meet her for lunch.
I don’t know the first thing about how hockey is played, so I probably should watch. And I’ve been more than a little curious to see the guys in action.
But it’s not like I haven’t been busy.
I decided, with Grant’s approval, that the very best way to prepare myself to negotiate new contracts was to read over every single branding or endorsement deal any of the Appies have signed in the past twelve months.
It took three days, practically made my eyes bleed, and led to several moments of panic in which I doubted whether I could even do this job. It’s honestly nothing like the work I did with the DA, and I half-wonder why Grant hired me. Though, in my desperation to leave the dumpster fire that was my last job, it’s possible I oversold the summer internship I did studying entertainment law.
It’s also possible I noticed the Agent Twelve movie poster hanging behind his desk and casually mentioned that my sister is married to Flint Hawthorne—the actor who plays the lead. Grant immediately perked up, mumbling something about my ability to keep my cool around a bunch of famous athletes—something I can definitely do—then talked for a solid ten minutes about the surprise at the end of the second movie in the franchise.
However I got here, I already feel like I have a better grasp of my purpose. And I am definitely a woman who needs a purpose. A purpose and a pile of paperwork.
Nerdy confession—I secretly love paperwork. There’s something so satisfying about the inky smell of a contract, still warm from the printer. I’m guessing it will be even better when it’s a brilliant contract that I negotiated. Hopefully, I’ll have one of those coming soon.
Parker is filming when I sit down beside her, but she looks over and smiles, holding up a single finger as if to say she’s almost done. Parker and I aren’t exactly close—at least not yet—but she’s been amazing as she’s helped me through my first week. We’ve started texting a bit, even when we aren’t at work, and I get the sense we’re going to be good friends.
Gracie told me I would love Parker, so I’m not surprised, but it feels nice to really connect and get along with her so easily. I have Gracie, and she’s amazing, but there’s a Lucy-sized hole in my day-to-day life, and the more people I have to fill it, the better.
Parker films for another few minutes while I unwrap my sandwich and start to eat, watching as the players fly from one end of the rink to the other. I’m sure there’s a puck on the ice somewhere, but as quickly as I find it, I lose it again.
I wonder if Parker can sense my current state of overwhelm because as soon as she turns off the camera on her phone, she gives me a knowing smile. “Never been to a hockey game?”
“Once,” I say through another bite of food. “But it was the game when Felix and Gracie finally got together, and I spent a lot more time watching Gracie than I did the actual game.” I hold up my half-eaten sandwich. “Also, sorry I didn’t wait for you. I skipped breakfast this morning, and I was a little bit starving.”
She grins. “I a-little-bit forgive you.” She pulls out her own lunch, and we eat in silence for a beat, our eyes still focused on the ice.
“So, are they playing a game right now? Or…doing drills? Do they do those?”
“They do drills. Lots of them. But right now, they’re scrimmaging, so it’s more like a game.”
“How do you keep up? I can’t even find the puck.”
Parker pops open a bag of Doritos and offers me one. “The trick is to stop looking for it. Just watch the players. You’ll start to recognize their subtle shifts in posture, their speed, the way they guard the puck when they have it. If they don’t have it, they know where it is, so if you watch them, you’ll get better at figuring out where the play is happening.”
“They’re so fast,” I say before licking Dorito dust off my fingertips. “How do I watch them all?”
“You’ll never see everything,” Parker says. “But I promise it will get easier.” She points. “Okay, see the guy over on the right? That’s Logan. Watch him for a second.”
I watch as Logan glides across the ice with ease. He has the puck—I can see it, at least for now—but then he passes it to another player, and I lose it. I keep my eyes on Logan, watching where he watches, and soon, I spot the puck again, in front of a smaller guy who flies across the ice, pulling away from the rest of the players. He’s almost to Felix when another player cuts him off, bending low and checking him with his shoulder before spinning and ramming him into the wall, pinning him in place with his hockey stick.
I wince as they make contact, bracing myself for whatever happens next.
The two men scuffle a bit, then Logan skates over and pulls the bigger man off.
“What was that?” I ask, realizing almost too late that I’ve practically pulverized my sandwich, squeezing it in my hands.
“Um, that was Nathan bodychecking Dominik,” Parker says, “then pinning him against the boards.”
“Is that legal?”
“The bodychecking was fine. That’s just a move to knock someone away from the puck, though it’s definitely designed to intimidate. But that last part—he’d be in the penalty box for that.” She shoots me a knowing look. “Something tells me Nathan really didn’t like Dominik’s comment about you in our meeting earlier this week.”
A flush of heat spreads across my chest. I appreciated Nathan shutting Dominik down—Nathan’s intimidation factor is honestly mind-boggling—but I made a point of finding Dominik at the end of the day anyway, telling him in no uncertain terms that he would respect me. I looked him up after the meeting, and Dominik is barely out of high school. I’m sure he was just being a stupid kid, but after the way things ended at my last job, I’m not about to excuse his bad behavior.
If he can’t behave, I’ll report him every time he opens his mouth. When I told him as much, his cheeks flushed red before he fumbled through a “Yes, ma’am, I understand,” then he hurried off to the parking lot with his tail between his legs.
I have to wonder if Nathan’s method of handling things will prove more effective.
“Had you met Nathan before you started working here?” Parker asks. “It seems like there might be some history there.”
“No history,” I say. “I have met him, but only once. We talked for maybe twenty minutes? That was it.”
Parker’s eyes go wide. “Really? Twenty minutes?”
“Mostly I talked for twenty minutes.”
She chuckles. “That sounds more like the Nathan I know. He’s a great guy. Much more of a gentle giant than hockey fans like to think. He’s tough on the ice, an enforcer, but I’ve never seen him throw a punch off the ice.”
“An enforcer. Is that a position?”
“Sort of?” Parker says. “It’s not an official thing. But when the opposing team plays dirty, he’s usually the guy who steps in and…handles it. The guys on the team call him Bruiser.”
“So basically, he fights a lot?”
“That’s just it,” Parker says. “Only if he has to. He doesn’t instigate, he responds. And he’s more level-headed than a lot of guys who fill the same role.”
My eyes follow Nathan—now that Parker pointed him out, it’s easier to recognize him under the bulky pads and helmet—as he breaks away from another player and races across the ice. Parker grabs her phone, starting a video just as he deflects around another player, circles the goal, then sends the puck over Felix’s shoulder and into the net.
“Dang,” Parker says under her breath.
I lean forward, shifting to the edge of my seat.
Down on the ice, the player I’m ninety-nine percent sure is Nathan slows the tiniest bit and…looks at me.
But that’s dumb. Why would he look at me? He doesn’t even know I’m up here.
Still, I can’t keep myself from asking, “Um, did he just look up here?”
I glance at Parker who looks like she’s fighting an enormous grin. “He totally just looked up here. Also significant: Nathan is a defender. That kind of hotshot scoring move isn’t exactly his M.O.”
“Which means what?”
She gives me a pointed look. “Which means I think he was trying to impress someone.”
“What? No.” I shove the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth, buying myself a little time.
I like the idea of Nathan trying to impress me way too much, which gives me a terrible sense of whiplash. Why would the same guy who was borderline rude and dismissive in the parking lot at the start of the week be trying to impress me at the end of the week?
I’ve seen Nathan exactly three times since the team meeting on Monday morning.
Once when I dropped by Gracie’s place to return a sweater I borrowed, and he happened to be leaving Felix’s place, which is right next door. Once when we arrived at the Summit at the same time, and yes, I did park in his parking space, and no, he did not complain. And once when we were leaving the Summit.
All three times were completely coincidental and random, and all three times, he barely acknowledged my presence.
I take a long swig of my water, hoping it will do something to tamp down the pleasant warmth spreading through my belly from Parker’s words. My belly has no business feeling warm or fluttery or anything when it comes to that man.
I don’t care what I said before about warm fuzzy feelings of recognition, and I don’t care how good Nathan smelled every single stupid time I ran into him. He’s either interested or he’s not, and he’s clearly not. That’s not rocket science.
“He has no reason to want to impress me,” I say to Parker, satisfied that my words sound balanced and logical and utterly convincing. “I basically asked him out the last time we met, and he didn’t take the bait. He made it clear he’s not interested.”
Parker purses her lips to the side and pulls her wavy brown hair over her shoulder, her fingers deftly weaving it into a loose braid. “That surprises me. But then, with Nathan, I guess you can’t truly know. He’s always been an enigma. Definitely harder to get to know than the other guys.” She secures the end of her braid with a hair tie, then pulls out her phone. “Look at this, though.” She pulls up a video on TikTok and hands it over.
I press play, my eyes widening as the woman on the screen mentions Nathan and launches into all the ways she’d like to “turn his frown upside down.” I look at Parker, my eyes wide. “Oh my gosh.”
“I know, right?” Parker wrinkles her nose. “The comments are even worse.”
I hand back her phone. “What are you going to do?”
“So far, I’m removing official tags on anything that isn’t family-friendly and sending very polite letters to content creators reminding them of the Appies’ values and goals. But I might lay off the broody photos for a while. I like the momentum, and the attention can’t hurt, but I don’t want things to get tough for Nathan.” She stands and slips her phone into her pocket. “Do you want to keep watching? I need to get back to my office to do some editing.”
“I’ll walk with you,” I say. “My lunch break is pretty much over anyway.” I shoot one more glance toward the ice just in time to see two guys collide before they crash into the wall. Or…the boards? Is that what Parker called them?
“They’re feisty today,” Parker says.
“This isn’t typical?” I follow her up the bleachers to the door.
“Not when they’re only playing each other. They usually save the attitudes for opposing teams.”
I get the sense there’s something Parker isn’t saying, and I think again of her earlier insinuation that Nathan’s tussle with Dominik had something to do with the younger player’s comments in our Monday meeting.
My steps slow, then I stop completely. “Parker, it’s not…me, is it?”
She turns to face me and shakes her head. “Definitely not. At least, not entirely. But Logan did tell me last night that Dominik has been mouthy in the locker room.” She shrugs apologetically. “You’re new. And you’re gorgeous. And he’s apparently a very stupid kid with a very large ego.”
I shake my head. “But I talked to Dominik myself. He apologized. Nobody needs to rough him up on my account.”
“You’re being very gracious,” Parker says, “but this is just how the Appies operate. The bar is high, and integrity is really important. My guess is his comment about you was just one of many stupid things he said, so the other guys are showing him what’s expected of an Appie.”
Some of the tension eases out of my shoulders. After the ordeal I went through with my former boss, I’m definitely a little fragile, so it feels good to hear Parker express such confidence in the quality of the men I’m working with now.
“How long have you known Logan?” I ask as we continue down the hallway.
“Known him? Practically forever. He was my brother’s best friend when we were growing up.” Parker smiles, and I can practically see heart-eye emojis forming over her head. “But the relationship part is still relatively new.”
I think back over the player roster I was studying just before lunch. “He came to the Appies from the NHL, right?”
She nods. “He played for the Hurricanes, then came here after recovering from an injury. But his contract with the NHL means he’ll likely go back, no matter how much I’d like him to stay here forever.”
“Is that how it is for most of the players? They could get called up to the NHL?”
“Less so for the Appies than for most minor league teams,” Parker says. “Most teams function as a sort of developmental team for their NHL affiliate, but the Appies have turned into their own sort of thing.”
“Thanks to your efforts, I hear. I’ve never been a crazy big hockey fan, but I still watched your TikToks even before getting this job. You’ve done some really great stuff.”
She smiles. “Thanks. We have a lot of fun. Many of the guys play here without any intention of ever leaving. Felix, for example. He could have played in the NHL but didn’t want to. He’s only contracted with the Appies, so he’s never in danger of getting sent somewhere else. I’m sure that makes Gracie happy.”
“I’ve never seen Gracie so happy,” I say. “They’re honestly kind of ridiculous. Which is crazy because a year ago, Gracie was absolutely anti-hockey.”
“Anti-hockey is a word combination I do not understand,” Parker jokes. “Just wait. You’ll get the fever too.”
We reach her office door, and she pauses, one hand on the door jamb. “And just in case it becomes useful information, there is exactly zero policy against dating anyone at work, which means you’re free to date any of the single players. You just have to file something with HR.” She tilts her head to the side, gesturing into her office with a big, overdone smile. “I have the form if you ever need a copy.”
“Oh, no. That will not be necessary,” I say a little too quickly. “I have zero plans. No dating plans whatsoever. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with dating. Or dating hockey players. Or hockey players in general. I’m just saying, that’s not why I’m here.”
I press my lips together to keep myself from rambling more stupid words. What is wrong with me? And why does my face feel so hot? I resist the urge to lift my hands and press them against my fiery cheeks. The action would only call attention to them, though based on Parker’s amused expression, we’re way past her making note of my embarrassment.
“Okay,” Parker says through a laugh. “I absolutely believe you.”
“Will you be traveling with the team when we go to Chicago next weekend?” I ask. I hope her answer is yes because even though Grant assured me it’s a nice bus with plenty of room for everyone to be comfortable, I’d still rather have Parker along if only to have someone to talk to.
She shakes her head no. “Not at first. I have a family thing on Wednesday night, so I’m flying out on Thursday morning. But I’ll be in Chicago in time for the game that night.”
I nod, mentally shifting my expectations to include the possibility of eight hours on a bus as the only woman. I can’t decide if I should be nervous or excited.
“Don’t stress about it,” Parker says, clearly reading my expression. “Bus rides are easy and usually pretty chill.”
I nod my thanks and head back to my office. The next task on my to-do list is a deep dive into Flex’s company history to make sure there’s no reason Nathan and Alec shouldn’t partner with them. Malik said the company checks out, and on the surface, they do. But I’d like to see what’s under the surface before I let anyone sign anything.
Three hours later, Flex has sent over an initial draft of the agreement, so I spend the rest of the afternoon redlining, making notes that I’ll hopefully be able to go over with Grant before he takes off for paternity leave.
Grant didn’t drop that little bombshell on me until first thing this morning. Apparently, his wife is having a baby next week, and he thinks being with her is more important than holding my hand through my first contract meeting.
Which, fine. Of course he should be with his wife. And it’s not like I’ve never been thrown into the deep end before. I thrive in the deep end. Challenge excites me. And that’s all this is. A new challenge.
I’ll be fine. Probably I’ll be fine?
“Hey.”
I startle when a deep voice sounds just in front of my desk, and I toss my pen in the air, letting out an audible yelp.
Nathan stands in front of me, freshly showered and smelling divine. His hair is still damp, and tiny droplets of water dot the shoulders of his t-shirt.
I have no idea how he managed to sneak into my office without me hearing him, or even smelling him, but the how of his appearance feels completely inconsequential next to the what standing in front of me.
I open my mouth to speak, but sound completely escapes me, leaving me gaping like a very uncomfortable fish. I clear my throat. “Hi,” I finally manage to say. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. I got a message you had something for me to sign?”
I blink at him, willing my memory to recall whatever it is he’s talking about. Did I send Nathan a message? Pretty sure I would remember having an actual reason to invite him to my office. I also would have put on some lip gloss before he arrived.
“Um, I don’t have?—”
“Summer?” Grant calls through the open door directly connecting our adjacent offices. By the end of my second day, I quickly learned that Grant’s favorite way to communicate with me is to just…yell across the distance and wait for me to respond.
“Yes, Grant?”
“Is that Nathan? Send him in here. I’ve got a thing he needs to sign.”
I lift a hand and motion toward Grant’s door.
I debate whether it would be worth reapplying lip gloss now, but I can’t be sure Nathan won’t just leave Grant’s office through the other door, bypassing my desk altogether, so I don’t.
Also, I don’t…because I shouldn’t. My lip gloss is Charlotte Tilbury and it’s amazing, but it’s also expensive as all get out. I’m not going to waste it on a potential sighting when there are no guarantees.
It’s a good thing I don’t because Nathan really does leave through Grant’s other door. When I hear the click of it closing again, a tiny ping of disappointment bounces around in my chest.
I’m still sorting out what that disappointment means when I walk to the parking lot at the end of the day. Once I get there, I immediately scan the mostly empty lot, only realizing when I don’t see it that I’m totally looking for Nathan’s car.
Okay, this really has to stop. I make a list of all the very logical reasons why I should put Nathan from my mind as I cross the parking lot and climb into my car. But the list only needs to be one point long: I am entirely too old for one-sided crushes.
I pull out my phone to drop it into the wireless charging dock, hesitating when I see two new text messages. The first one, from Gracie, immediately makes me smile. But the next one is from my old boss, who’s labeled JACKHOLE DA in my phone, and it makes my stomach tighten into an uncomfortable knot.
It’s been weeks since he last messaged—since before I quit—so this is unexpected.
JACKHOLE DA
Summer, was wondering if you could call and give me some feedback on the Helms case. The file notes don’t seem complete.
I’m still staring at the message thread when a second message pops up.
I thought about you today. All day.
The first text makes me furious—after everything, he still thinks he has the right to text me? The second one just makes me feel gross.
Bare minimum, the district attorney I worked under for two years should have lost his job for the way he spoke to me. But he was good—crafty. His words were always just veiled enough to seem innocent. The man was completely spineless, and I knew it, so I never felt threatened, but it was still more than I should have had to deal with.
Finally, I snapped. I made the phone call. Filed the complaint. Made all the reports I needed to make. Then I accepted the job to work with the Appies and waited for Jason P. Roscoe to get his comeuppance.
What he got was a slap on the hand. A stern talking to from the state attorney general. Turns out, being a first-class jerk isn’t grounds enough for dismissal.
How nice.
I delete both his messages, then block his number. I should have done it a long time ago, and the satisfaction of doing so now fills me with an immediate sense of calm. I’m in control of this situation, and there’s nothing Jason Roscoe can say or do that will ever pull me back into his orbit.
I go back to Gracie’s message as soon as Jason is fully and completely deleted.
Gracie
Wanna come over? I made soup because February DEMANDS it, and there’s enough for an army. Pretty please? I want to hear all about your first week!
Seeing as how I’ve been eating takeout all week because I still haven’t made it to the grocery store or unpacked my kitchen utensils, soup with Gracie sounds amazing.
Summer
You had me at soup. But I’ve been wearing these heels for way too long so I’m gonna change first, then I’ll come over. Can I bring anything?
Gracie
Just yourself. Felix made bread, and there’s tons.
Hmm. Felix made tons of bread. She made enough soup for an army. And I know how much the Appies love to hang out at Felix’s place.
I’m beginning to wonder if I will not be the only guest for dinner.