Chapter Six #2
Fairbanks is a small city with a huge heart, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Not even with the sad history carved into the town and city borders.
Janel knows that I’m referring to my family and gives me a comforting smile before turning to Moskins.
“It’s not often we send our clients out on this many appearances, but she has a point.
With the Fireflies being new to the area and bringing a lot more attention to our city, it’s going to be important for the team to make a lasting impact.
If the players are seen out mingling with long-time residents, it’ll go a long way.
To the people here, you won’t be the headlines that the media make you out to be. You’ll simply be one of us.”
I can see him mulling it over. He doesn’t want to do it. If he says no, we can’t force him. But I think he’ll be making a mistake if he rejects this plan.
Apparently, he thinks so too. “The team’s board is up my ass to make good on polishing their reputation in the media,” he tells us, staring down at the paper.
“I may not like this, but I don’t think I have another choice at this point.
If I keep pissing them off, it’s only a matter of time before they find a reason to push me out. ”
It’s a selfish reason, but one that gives us the green light. So, I don’t care why he’s going through with it, as long as it allows me to move forward.
Before I can say anything, Moskins pins me with a look and slowly curls his lips up. “I have a condition.”
The victorious excitement within me quickly deflates.
It’s Janel who slowly asks, “What is your condition?”
He points to me. “You have to do these events with me. If they’re that important, surely you wouldn’t want to miss out.”
I stare at him for a brief second before shaking my head. “That is not a good idea.”
“Too good for a little charity work?” he quips, trying to bait me.
Unfortunately, it works. “That is not it at all. If you haven’t forgotten, you being photographed with women is what got you into this mess. The last thing you need is to be pictured with me for the internet to run wild with.”
Even the thought makes my skin crawl. There’s a reason I deactivated my social media accounts. They’re more trouble than they’re worth. The last time I braved one of my platforms, it was nothing but negativity. Pass.
“While you have a point,” Janel tells me, tapping her fingers on the table thoughtfully, “it may actually not be a horrible idea to go with him. As a point person. Someone who’s familiar with the community and can make the introductions.”
I was already going to connect Moskins with the right people. That doesn’t mean I have to be there to hold his hand through it.
“Yeah, Winter,” Moskins goads, that annoying smirk still high and tight on his stupid, attractive face.
Why does he have to be good-looking? His jaw could cut glass, and his eyes could make even Mother Teresa drop her drawers.
“I’ll need someone who’s familiar with this small-town Hallmark community you seem to love so much. ”
He’s mocking me. I get it. Maybe he wasn’t hugged enough as a child and doesn’t understand what it’s like to be part of a community.
Perhaps he has an aversion to kindness because he’s never truly experienced it before.
“You can make fun of Fairbanks all you want, but you’re going to realize that they’ll see right through your little facade as fast as I did.
So when we go to the soup kitchen on Saturday, you’d better slap a smile on that pretty boy face and do your best to seem like you want to be there. Or this will all be for nothing.”
His smirk quickly drops, and his infamous scowl returns.
Janel clears her throat. “Any questions?” she asks Moskins.
His nostrils flare. “Looks like I have all the information I need right here,” he says, swiping the paper from the table and standing. “I’ll make sure to meet you at eleven sharp, princess. With a giant fucking smile and all.”
With that, he walks out the door.
First sweetheart, and now princess.
I got under his skin.
The thought makes me smile.
“Well, that went…” Janel’s words fade. “I don’t know how that went, actually. Can I even trust you two to be alone together?”
I gape at her. “It was your idea to back his brilliant condition,” I defend, dumbfounded. “I would have been fine organizing everything and staying in the background.”
Amusement takes over her face as she leans back in her chair. “If I didn’t back him, do you think he would have agreed? Men like Mr. Moskins—Moskins—prefer things to go their way as much as possible.”
She’s probably right. If she’d pushed back on that, he could have told us to fuck off. “Fine, you have me there. And we won’t be alone anyway. There are always at least ten other people at the soup kitchen every weekend.”
That seems to relieve whatever internal tension is building in her shoulders. “All right. I trust you with this, Winter. It’s him I’m a little iffy with. He likes to get a reaction. And you…”
I feed into it. “I can hold my own.”
She stands, smiling at me. “I know you can. I’m just afraid you’ll eat him alive before we can officially get paid.”
I snort. “Now I see your real concern.”
Janel brushes my arm. “You’ll be okay going there, right? I know those organizations are very close to your heart.”
That’s why I chose them. “They need a face like his to get more media attention. It’s a win-win. He’ll be seen as the golden boy, and donations will flood in from hockey fans.”
My motives are selfish too, but I don’t feel bad about them one bit.
She hums. “Okay.”
That’s all she says, and I wonder what the twinkle in her eye means when we walk out of the conference room.
*
It’s five minutes to eleven when I check my watch for the fourth time since pulling up to Our Open Table, Fairbank’s largest soup kitchen that serves over twenty thousand meals a year to those in need.
A message from my sister pops up on my watch’s screen, making me smile and pull my phone out.
Kourt: Good luck today, and give Vinnie a big hug for me
Me: Will do!
Bubbles appear at the bottom of the screen, but I yelp when knuckles rap against the window and startle me.
I drop my phone between the seat and center console, cursing as I peek through the crack where it’s laying on the dirty carpet.
Is that a Cheerio? I haven’t had cereal in at least three months.
Man, I really need to vacuum this car.
I’m broken from the thought when I see Moskins staring at me from outside the car door. He’s expressionless as I turn the ignition off and step out, offering him a sheepish smile.
“I dropped my phone,” I tell him, gesturing toward my seat. “Give me a second, and we’ll head in.”
Before he says a word, I’m crawling back inside and trying to reach the awkward place it slipped. I cuss as I get my hand jammed before victoriously pulling it out.
“Got it!” I tell him, waving it in the air as I turn around.
Moskins isn’t looking at my phone.
He’s looking where my ass was.
“Were you staring at my butt?” I accuse him, frowning.
There’s no shame on his face as he shrugs. “It was there,” is all he says. “Are we doing this or not? I don’t have all day.”
Actually, he does. His schedule is clear for this event.
Janel spoke to his agent and manager to confirm as much.
“Come on,” I say, walking toward the entrance.
“I’ll introduce you to the owners. Their names are Beverly and Vincent, but they go by Bev and Vinnie.
You’ll love them. This place is their passion project. ”
I’m not paying attention to whether he’s listening, because I’m excited to see the people who acted like grandparents to Kourtney and me. If it weren’t for them, my sister and I would have struggled more than we did. A lot of people refer to them as Fairbanks’s grandparents.
As soon as I step in, I’m wrapped in the same cozy atmosphere that smells like lavender, sugar, and spices.
It’s a good thing I ate this morning, or my stomach would be rumbling right now.
Then Bev would force me to sit down, lecture me about being too skinny, and make me eat at least half a meal before letting me help.
I smile and wave at a few familiar faces lingering at the tables off to the side, already eating their late morning meals. “Hi, Abe. Hi, Babette.”
The elderly couple lifts their hands in waves as I make my way to the back, where I know the main group of volunteers is.
I can feel a pair of eyes on me the entire time, but I pay no mind to Moskins. He’ll see how tight-knit everyone here is and understand why it’s easy to remember names.
When I push the kitchen door open, I ignore the photographer and journalist setting up in the corner. Instead, my focus goes to the white-haired woman whose smile is big and broad and wrinkling her aged face.
“There she is,” Bev greets, opening her arms for me.
I ditch Moskins by the door and walk over to hug Beverly.
Warmth fills my chest the second she wraps her arms around me.
For someone so petite, her strength is overwhelming.
I swear one of my ribs pops from the pressure she squeezes me at, but I don’t mind at all.
I love hugs. I miss them. My parents used to be the best huggers in the world, and that trait didn’t rub off on Kourtney.
She’s not unloving—she’s the most loving person I know.
She’s just not a physical person, which makes my heart a little sad sometimes.
“Hi, Bev,” I say into her shoulder, absorbing a few more seconds of warmth. “Thank you for letting us come here today.”