Chapter 9 #2
All the more reason to make sure everyone knows this is casual and we’re mostly just friends.
It’s also important for me to remember all of those things. Because if I show even a glimmer of heartbreak, Ruth will notice, and it will bother her.
“You staying?” I ask Beckett, taking the stool that Josh just vacated.
Beckett looks from me to Alex, then back to me. “You think you can sell him on this all by yourself?”
I look at Alex. “I’m not sure. I know a lot of the stuff we’re going to try with the hockey team is going to be different for him. I might have to try to sell him on more than just hockey while he’s here.”
There. Just a tiny hint of something else. Beckett Moore will absolutely pick up on that and run with it.
Beckett's huge grin tells me I nailed that. He rotates on his stool and climbs off. “Then I think you definitely have this handled and don’t need me at all,” he says. He glances toward the door, and his eyes light up. “Actually, I see someone I need to speak to very badly.”
I glance over and see Andi and Everly coming through the door.
My friends didn’t mention they were on their way back to the bar.
Probably because they weren’t until someone texted that the team was here, which they knew meant I would be too. With my new “boyfriend” for the first time.
Alex looks over as well. “I kind of met them this morning, too. Is one of them your girlfriend?” he asks Beckett.
“The gorgeous blonde,” Beckett says.
I laugh. Beckett has an enormous, obvious, everyone-knows-it and he knows everyone knows it crush on Andi.
Andi does not feel the same way.
“Really?” Alex asks.
“No,” I say. “But I think Beckett has a rejection kink or something.”
Beckett laughs. “Just an eternal optimist.”
He starts in Andi’s direction. I see Everly grin and Andi roll her eyes when they see him coming.
“Has everyone in this town pretty much lived here all their lives?” Alex asks as he closes the binder.
“You don't want to talk about the hockey team anymore?”
“Is all of the information in the binder?” he asks, his tone resigned. “All the crazy rules, the big ideas? Things like fans getting to vote on fucking everything?”
“Yeah. Pretty much. Keep in mind that the rules will be evolving. There are probably some we haven’t even thought of yet.”
He closes his eyes and groans.
I like that sound too much too.
Do not like that sound. You should not like his sexy groans and growls.
“This isn’t just regular hockey with some singing and dancing thrown in, Wildflower.”
“I know.”
His eyes open, and he pins me with an intent stare. “You are asking me to play a game according to rules that are going to be made up as we go along. Rules that are going to be changed week to week.”
“Yes. Fan engagement is the main priority.”
“That sounds chaotic as fuck.”
“Hockey is already pretty chaotic, isn’t it?” I ask with a laugh. “All these guys skating in all different directions all the time. The puck shooting up and down the rink. Guys scrambling to get to it. Never know where it’s going to go.”
He sits up straighter and frowns at me as if I just said the most offensive thing he’s ever heard.
“Hockey might seem chaotic from the outside, but it’s absolutely not.
Everyone has a position to play. Things proceed according to a strategy and rules.
Certain things happen for certain reasons.
When you hit the puck in certain ways, it responds in a fairly predictable manner.
Sure, sometimes things happen that you don’t expect, but you know what to do when they happen. And everyone understands that.”
I think about that as I study him.
“Okay, I’ll accept that.”
He nods.
“So, yes, this is going to be a little chaotic.”
He sighs.
I smile.
“Why didn’t you tell me that this isn’t real hockey?”
I lift a shoulder. I have to make this seem like it’s fine. Like he’ll be fine. Because he will be. I hope. “It’s real hockey. There are just some…extra things.”
“You can not call this hockey, Wildflower.”
I can’t help it. I kind of like him frustrated.
I think things in Alex Olsen’s life have always gone pretty smoothly.
Maybe this will be good for him. “You act like we’re asking you to play a totally different sport.
It’s hockey. There are just some new rules and a few songs thrown in.
And, honestly, I think it’s going to be big. ”
“Hockey’s already big. Why can’t we just play regular hockey?”
“People can drive to New Orleans for regular hockey. To get them to stay here, we have to give them something different. To get people to come here, to actually drive in from other places—which we do need because we need a bigger crowd than we can get depending just on Rebel itself—then we need something really fun and unique.”
“Sutton said it’s like that baseball team from Georgia.”
I sit forward. “Yes! Have you watched them play? I’ve watched every interview with the owner of that league and read his books. He set out to create a game that people simply had to pay attention to. He wanted to give them something that was fun the entire time.”
“Hockey is way more fun than baseball already,” Alex protests. “It’s often rated as one of the most exciting sports to watch.”
I laugh. “You’re not biased at all, of course.”
“I am. Completely,” he admits. “But still…it’s faster paced. That’s just a fact. There’s more happening. Constant motion. Possession changes all the time.”
“I love hockey,” I remind him. “That doesn’t mean it can’t be more fun.”
“You really think fans want to see the players out there dancing and lip syncing in stupid hats?”
“I think fans are going to love this,” I say with a nod.
He sighs and slumps over the table. “Sutton didn’t pull out the wigs for the Princess and the Frog song, but there were cowboy hats for “Friends in Low Places,”” he says.
I grin. “I love that song from Princess and the Frog.”
“Of course you do,” he mutters. “And, apparently, when “Hard to Say I’m Sorry” plays during a penalty, there will be wigs and giant sunglasses.”
I nod. “I love that.”
“There was also swaying. And kicking.”
I grin. “Amazing.”
“I don’t sing and dance. I play hockey.”
“And that’s what you’re going to do here. You might have to do a few other little things. But there are plenty of guys to do the big stuff. Beckett wants to be the goofball front man anyway.”
His eyes narrow. “You don’t seem too bothered by me being bothered.”
I prop my chin on my hand. “Should I be?”
He leans in. “Shouldn’t my girlfriend care when I’m upset?”
God, he smells good. He must have showered at the arena, because surely he would have commented on the apartment upstairs if he’d seen it.
And he’s so warm. The air around me and between us seems to heat ten degrees.
“That’s a good point. I probably should,” I agree.
“You should probably make me glad to be here in spite of bonkers hockey,” he says.
Hot tingles race over my body.
“And how would I do that?”
“I only have fifty-eight ideas,” he says.
I laugh.
His eyes heat. “So how are we going to let everyone know we’re dating? Should we make some kind of announcement?”
“Oh, we’re not going to need to do that,” I say.
“No?”
I lean in, wrap both arms around his neck, and say, “Trust me. It’s going to be all over town in about twenty minutes.”
Then I kiss him.