Chapter 5 #2
I look around the office, taking in more details.
“How long have you been here again?”
“A couple of weeks.” Astrid drapes her arms along the curved back of the purple velvet settee. Which stands out even more on top of the furry green rug at her feet. “Do you like it?”
The rest of the office is white with shiny gold accents on the wall sconces, knobs on the cupboards and desk drawers, and upholstery embellishments.
“It looks like Mardi Gras threw up in here,” I tell her, sinking into the other armchair across the coffee table from Nora.
It’s surprisingly comfortable. Or maybe not that surprising. My sister has great taste, and it’s clear she spared no expense here, despite the color palette.
Astrid nods happily. “These are the colors of the Revelers,” she says, running her hands along the back of the couch lovingly. “I love it. And Declan would hate it. Everything in his penthouse is gray or black.”
I think about the last time I saw my sister.
It was also in an office.
Declan’s.
“Come with me to Louisiana.”
I turned quickly as my sister strode into Declan’s office.
“Are you going on vacation?”
She stopped in front of Declan’s desk and propped her hip against it. “I’m moving there.”
I turned to face her more fully. “Excuse me?”
“I bought a hockey team. I could use an All-Star Center. You’re a huge name in hockey. And if Declan doesn’t see it, I’m happy to capitalize on his loss.”
I gaped at her. “What do you mean you bought a hockey team? In Louisiana?” I looked at Declan.
He looked… amused. He sat back in his chair and linked his hands, resting them on his stomach.
“You did it,” he said to Astrid. He didn’t seem shocked.
She finally looked at her husband and lifted her chin. “Yes. I told you I would.”
“You seriously bought the Jazz?” I asked.
I didn’t know what exactly was going on between my sister and her husband, except that Declan’s grandfather arranged their marriage with our grandfather.
And that they seem to have a lot in common.
They’re both stupidly good-looking, incredibly successful at whatever they do, and frustratingly stubborn.
They also seem unable to stand one another.
So yeah, the idea of my sister buying an opposing team tracked.
But Astrid shook her head. “Not the Jazz. A much smaller team. It’s in a town that had an FPHL team until the end of this past season.
The owners pulled out. The town still wants hockey, but they need a new owner.
They came to Declan with the idea.” She looked across the wide stretch of Declan’s desk.
“But of course Declan would never do something like that. Hockey has to be perfect. The highest level to be worth anything. Heaven forbid anybody have any fun or do something just for the love of the game.”
Her tone was biting, and I knew her ire was obviously targeted at the billionaire across the desk, but I felt a jab in my chest at her words.
I love hockey, but I also take it very seriously. I don’t remember the last time I played hockey just for fun or the love of the game. It’s serious stuff. It’s statistics and standings and money and fame and glory.
“FPHL,” I repeated. “That’s not even the minor leagues. That’s like a step up from a beer league.”
Astrid nodded. “And it’s a little tiny town in Louisiana where there’s no food delivery, nothing is open past ten—except the bar on the weekends—they wear denim and work boots and call people honey and darlin’ a lot.
And they love hockey just for the sake of hockey.
I get to build it from the ground up. With the help of the town and the fans.
Which is how it should be. And they have a lot of ideas.
” She met my gaze. “Come with me. You’ll be able to learn everything about managing a team.
It’s not at Declan’s level, but it’ll be hands-on.
It’s everything from working with the players to interacting with the town, the press, and the fans.
We’re deciding on mascots and what to serve at the concession stands.
We’re hiring all of the staff, from social media managers to janitors.
You’ll literally be able to touch every single part of what goes into making a hockey team work. ”
I looked over Declan. “She has a point.”
He arched a brow. “Your sister is a very smart woman.”
Wow, a blatant compliment. I glanced at Astrid. Her cheeks were pink, but she wasn’t smiling, and she said nothing.
“If I go with Astrid and learn about everything from the ground up, that would be a very good, interesting experience.”
Declan nodded. “It would.”
“You know that Alex and I are very used to getting our way and being extremely successful,” Astrid said. “Obviously, this is going to be amazing.”
“Not to mention expensive,” Declan said, though he didn’t seem upset.
I guessed my sister used some of his money to buy this hockey team. She does fine, but there’s no way she’s got hockey-team-owner money.
She shrugged. “You’re the one who told me that I didn’t have to worry about money.”
Declan simply inclined his head in acknowledgement.
And now I’m in Louisiana, about an hour and a half away from my first practice as a swamp werewolf. For fuck’s sake. I focus on my sister in her office. “Declan would hate it?” I ask. “He hasn’t seen it?”
Astrid laughs. “No. And I don’t expect him to.”
“Really?”
“Declan O’Grady is not coming to small-town Louisiana.” She frowns, studying the way the velvet moves as she brushes over it. “Declan likes things very neat and polished and perfect. Things here are way too messy for him.”
“Yes. We’re going to talk about your husband and the fact that you’re here in part to annoy him,” I tell her, leaning forward to rest my forearms on my thighs.
“We are not talking about that,” Astrid says. “We’re talking about what we’re going to do about the ticket sales here.”
“What’s going on?” Nora asks, sitting forward.
I realize from their body language that they’re very comfortable with one another.
“I had three hundred season tickets sold as of this morning,” Astrid says.
“Only three hundred?” I ask, my attention effectively torn from Nora and the cute way her hair flips up at the ends just below her jawline.
“Well, two hundred ninety-three,” she clarifies. “But I had five hundred and sixty-five before they found out you were coming to play here. And since you got to town, I’ve lost thirty more.”
I sit forward. “What? You’re losing ticket sales because of me?” I scowl. “Do you mean you’ve lost more in the past thirty minutes since I got here?”
Astrid shrugs. “They don’t like you here.”
“I’m aware.” I turn my gaze on Nora.
She’s chewing on her bottom lip.
She still looks really fucking cute.
“Your grandfather’s friends don’t like me,” I say. “And they’re not making a secret of it, at all.”
“I know.” She looks really sorry, actually.
“Can you talk to them?”
“I have.”
I huff out a breath. “Am I still at risk for being kidnapped?”
“Maybe? Probably not. But I can’t be one-hundred percent sure.”
Astrid looks from Nora to me, then back. “What?”
“Leo, Brewser, and Wilson were going to take him out to Leo’s cabin and dump him off. To scare him a little. Punish him for how he treated Harley,” Nora explains.
“I would have noticed he was missing,” Astrid says.
“Yes. But you wouldn’t have been able to find him. And even if you did find out where he was, you couldn’t have gotten to him. You would need an airboat, hip waders, and a very good knowledge of the bayou. Which, I’m just guessing, you don’t have.”
I can tell Nora’s trying not to smile.
She thinks this is funny?
“The cops probably have all of that, though, right?” Astrid asks.
But then I really look at my sister, and I think she’s also trying not to smile.
Nora nods. “Yes, except for the very good knowledge of the bayou. I mean they do have some knowledge, but it’s a very wild, winding place. They simply can’t know it as well as those guys do.”
“So he would have just been stranded out there until they decided to go get him?” Astrid asks. “Is there food? Water?”
“They probably would have left some food and water. Though nothing perishable, of course. Nothing that would attract critters.”
“Define critters,” Astrid says. “Like raccoons?”
“More like nutria. And gators, of course.”
Astrid nods. “Of course.”
“And nothing that would need to be cooked. Since there’s only a generator for power and I would guess they don’t have it hooked up. Or that Alex would know how to hook it up.”
“So he’d also be in the dark,” Astrid says.
“Yes.”
“Wow. That really would be a pretty great way to make him think about what he did and regret it.”
My sister looks at me. I meet her gaze with both brows up. “You enjoying yourself?”
“Picturing the guy who travels with his own pillow and who complains if the hotel thermostat doesn’t work perfectly in a cabin with beef jerky and no power? Yeah, a little,” she says with a grin.
“Okay, Mrs. Pot, look who’s calling the kettle black.”
Nora giggles and I have an urge to reach over and pull her into my lap for some reason.
“I would have come to get you,” she says. “As soon as I realized what happened.”
“You have an airboat, hip waders, and great knowledge of the bayou?” I ask.
“I do,” she says with a grin. “At least, I know where to get an airboat. But I have the other things.”
I want to see her in hip waders. I really do. What the fuck is happening to me?
“Anyway,” Astrid says. “We need to figure out a way to help the town get over their grudge against you.”
“Give me a minute. I just got here,” I say.
“As charming as you are, I think it might take more than a minute,” she says. “And we don’t have a lot of time. We can’t keep losing ticket sales. We need to be gaining every day. I could just fire you, I suppose. That would probably get me huge points and would solve the problem.”
I frown. “That’s not an option.” Jesus, what would I do then? Even if this is small-town, minor-league hockey, at least it’s hockey.