Chapter 7
Zaila
On Wednesday, after I met with Phoebe Goldstein, the head nutritionist for the team, I returned to my office, excited about the next round of posts she’d helped me develop.
Settling into my chair, I pulled out my phone, and my jaw dropped.
The top trending hashtag in our city was #GunnarTheGoalie, accompanied by a photoshopped image of Gunnar in full goalie gear, looking comically out of place.
Tim and I had created said image earlier this morning, not long after Jay, glee clear in his expression, had told us we had authorization for a week of pranks and free-flowing creativity.
I shook my head, incredulous as I scrolled through the tweets. Fans were having a field day, creating memes and sharing the image with increasingly ridiculous captions.
I bit my lip as I struggled not to laugh. “Tim,” I called, pushing away so quickly that my chair rolled into the credenza behind my desk. I rushed to my office door just as Tim sped through it. We collided with a grunt and a squeak as I toppled backward and Tim fell on top.
“What the hell is going on?” Gunnar demanded from down the hall.
I heard his footsteps approaching, but with Tim’s elbow still pressed into my diaphragm, I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. He’d smacked his head on the door frame as we fell, and he groaned, his warm breath in my armpit.
“That hurt…” He moaned.
“It’ll hurt more if I have to pull you off of her,” Gunnar growled. He came into view over Tim’s bony shoulder as I gaped like a fish. “You’re squishing her, Tim.”
Gunnar took Tim’s elbow and hauled him off me. I curled into the fetal position and struggled to breathe, my breath between a pant and a gag.
“Zaila?” Gunnar knelt at my shoulders, cradling my head against his thigh…
his very firm thigh. The man was so strong and sexy, and I wheezed like a goose dying of emphysema.
“Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance? Did Tim break you?” My vision cleared in time to see Gunnar give Tim a death glare.
I reached for Gunnar’s hand and gripped his fingers as I struggled to push out the words. “Wind. Knocked. Out.”
His icy gaze softened as concern replaced rage. “You had the wind knocked out of you?”
I nodded.
“I’m bleeding.” Tim moaned again, touching his forehead with his fingertips. “I don’t do blood.”
“You work for a hockey team, my man,” Jay said, squatting beside him. “And you cheer loudest when there’s a fight.”
“Not my blood…” Tim gagged.
“What happened here?” Gunnar asked as those pale blue eyes darted back and forth, like he was scanning me for injury.
I held out my phone, because my diaphragm was too busy seizing. Thankfully, it was still open to the team’s social media page. “This? I saw it a few minutes ago.”
Gunnar met my gaze briefly before he swiped through the comments. His scowl lightened, and then his eyebrows shot upward. A smile lifted his lips.
“You’re fine,” Jay said as he handed Tim a bandage. “It’s barely a scrape, but it might bruise.”
Gunnar had looked up to confirm this diagnosis, but he now brought his attention back to my phone. “I have to hand it to you,” he said. “This is pretty clever. But how did you pull it off?” His icy eyes settled on me, but they didn’t seem cold. They were warm, like the hottest of flames.
I shivered. “I may have had some help from Tim,” I admitted, finally able to breathe again. Reluctantly, I sat up. “He was more than happy to assist.”
I leaned over so I, too, could view the screen. Even some of the players had joined the fun. We had stumbled upon social media gold.
“You know,” Gunnar said, “we could use this to our advantage. What if we actually put me in as goalie for a practice session? We could livestream it and have the players take shots. It could be a fun twist on next year’s charity event.”
“It might get more interest than this year’s game,” Jay grumbled. “Those celebrities were awful.”
Gunnar raised his eyebrows. “I thought I played well.”
Jay’s face suffused with color. “You did. I meant the others. They were…”
“Tiffany was a hot mess,” Tim said, looking a little better now that his Band-Aid was in place. “And it was great publicity for her because she’s grown her audience with the videos she posted. Who knew falling on your ass would garner so many millions of views?”
I rolled my eyes, not interested in Tiffany or Jay’s embarrassment.
I smiled at Gunnar. “I like your idea. And we could have fans vote on which player gets to take the last shot. It’s interactive, it’s entertaining, and it shows that the Wildcatters don’t take themselves so seriously that they’ve forgotten hockey is a game. ”
“Let’s talk more after we get you two casualties off the floor,” Gunnar said. He gripped my hands and tugged me up. Once I was on my feet, he continued to hold my hands, his thumbs brushing back and forth over my wrists. “You okay? Steady?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
I nodded as I blushed, then glanced at Jay, whose eyes had zeroed in on where Gunnar caressed my skin. “Y-yes. I’m good. Thank you.”
“Be more careful,” Gunnar murmured, his words low, just for me. “I was worried.”
I lifted my eyes, and my breath caught. “Okay.” Then, because he didn’t appear satisfied, I added, “I promise.”
Offering a lopsided smile, he let go of my hands after one more caress.
He placed his hand at the small of my back and ushered me out into the large workspace in the center of the floor.
We followed Tim and Jay to a table, and Gunnar pulled out a chair for me—right next to his.
I swallowed my giddiness and tried to keep my professional demeanor intact, though I knew Jay was burning with questions he wouldn’t let me sidestep.
Not that I had answers for him. I didn’t know what was going on with Gunnar, and I didn’t know what I wanted.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. I wanted Gunnar.
He was witty, urbane, and effortlessly sexy, confident without being overt.
My lady bits had taken notice, and those glacial eyes, when they warmed for me, made me swoon.
But I didn’t want to be the woman dating her boss. I hated the idea that people would believe I’d landed here because of my bedroom skills.
I took a breath, my lungs functioning normally now, and tried to get my libido and common sense back on the same page.
It took some time as we fleshed out the details of what we’d now dubbed the “Gunnar in Goal Challenge,” but eventually I reined myself in.
Gunnar owned the company. He was my boss.
He never crossed the line, so I wouldn’t either.
“While we can nudge the direction, the excitement will more likely grow and interest increase if it’s organic,” I said as Jay created posts for the next few weeks.
“I disagree,” he said. “This is our campaign, and we direct the content.”
Gunnar looked back and forth between us for a moment.
“Jay, you do the posts you’d like to do on your schedule.
You’ll need between fifteen and twenty to get us to the time when players are back for practice, so we’ll need close to triple that before we can set up a time where I can act as goalie at an exhibition game.
Those start six weeks after training camp begins.
” He turned to me. “Zaila, you create your posts based on users’ responses.
Then we’ll have months of data to measure and aggregate.
That will allow us to quantify which posts get more engagement. ”
Jay’s expression turned haughty. “Fine. But when my measured approach wins, I want a victory lap.”
“What’s that?” Gunnar asked.
Until now, I hadn’t realized Jay was taking this so personally, but his next comment proved it.
“We don’t have anyone hired to be the new mascot yet, right? Zaila will do it.”
“What?” Tim gawked. “No! She’d never get to see a game, take pictures, build the brand.”
“That’s my job.” Jay sniffed. “Zaila’s supposed to take my direction. Because she’s the intern.”
“I don’t mistreat my employees because I disagree with them,” Gunnar said, his tone teetering on the edge of annoyed.
Jay narrowed his eyes, perhaps readying himself for a verbal assault.
I might not have liked Lydia, but I did like Jay. Well, I had. Now, I wasn’t so sure. But I knew I wasn’t ready to take on his position, and I didn’t want him to hate me.
“I’ll agree to that,” I said, “as long as you do, too. Should I be right and you wrong, you take on mascot duties.”
Gunnar looked ready to argue, but I caught his eye and shook my head. This was my battle, not his. I needed to earn Jay’s respect. More than that, I wanted our department to be harmonious, so I’d take the knock on the chin for the team.
“I reserve the right to end this ridiculousness at my discretion,” Gunnar said.
“But as long as you both understand the terms and agree to them, I’ll abide by them as well.
For now.” He turned the full force of his glower on Jay, who shrank back.
“And for the record, this is not how I want any department run. I’ve found that working with my colleagues improves situations and morale.
Pranks are one thing, but I think this might be another. ”
But Jay couldn’t opt out now. He’d forced the issue, perhaps without thinking it through. I could see the concern in his eyes. He’d gotten himself on the wrong side of Gunnar Evaldson, and there was no easy way to repair that damage.
With that, Gunnar rose from the table and took his leave.
Tim and I shared a long look that spoke volumes—and put us firmly on the same page.
We both seemed to understand what was at stake here, Jay’s ego.
Tim’s quirked eyebrow reinforced what my gut was saying: this wasn’t going to end well for me.