7. Harper
Harper
Crisis mode doesn't begin to cover what's happening in our office right now. Jessica is on her fourth backup venue call, her voice getting more strained with each rejection.
James has spreadsheets pulled up on two different monitors, frantically calculating timeline adjustments. Amber is stress-eating her way through a bag of M&Ms while updating our contingency plans.
“Any luck with the Plaza?” I ask Jessica, who is holding her phone away with a grimace on her face.
“They're booked solid through Christmas,” she says, covering the mouthpiece. “And they just suggested we try a Holiday Inn conference room.”
“A Holiday Inn?” My voice goes up an octave. “For a two-million-dollar contract with the Renegades?”
James looks up from his computer. “The Mandarin Oriental has availability, but they want three times our budget.”
I'm about to respond when there's a knock on our conference room door. Before anyone can answer, it swings open, and Cole Maddox fills the doorway.
All air leaves my lungs, and I stare at him open-mouthed. What the fuck? How did he even know where our offices are?
He fills the doorway, looking ridiculously large and out of place in our cozy, pastel-colored conference room. He’s wearing a dark Renegades hoodie and an apologetic scowl. “Sorry to barge in. No one was at reception.”
The reaction from my team is instantaneous and mortifying.
Amber lets out an actual squeak, her hand flying to her mouth. Jessica, mid-plea with the Plaza events manager, goes completely silent, her jaw unhinged. James just stares, his fingers frozen over his keyboard.
“Oh my God,” Amber whispers, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You're Cole Maddox.”
“Captain Cole Maddox,” Jessica adds, her voice breathy with admiration.
James finally finds his voice. “Dude, that overtime goal against the Stormers last season was insane.”
Cole scowls. “We lost that game.” Then his eyes find mine. “Ms. Hayes, could I have a word?”
“Of course.” I turn to my team with what I hope is a professional smile. “Guys, could you give us some privacy?”
They practically trip over each other scrambling to leave, but not before Amber manages to snap a selfie, which makes Cole scowl some more. God, he’s fun.
Cole drops himself on a chair on the opposite side of the table, and I have to actively stop myself from staring. His thighs look powerful even sitting down, and I find myself remembering exactly how those muscles felt pressed against me during our kiss.
Focus, Harper.
“You could have been kinder to James. He was just being a fan,” I say, feeling sorry for James’ dismissal.
“This isn't a meet-and-greet, Harper,” he says without an ounce of regret. “Can we focus on what brought me here?”
Unbelievable. James did nothing wrong except show appreciation for his talent, and Cole responded like a complete jackass. “Which is?”
“Good color on you,” Cole says, instead of answering my question. I mentally high-five myself for picking out the dark green blouse I have on this morning. “Professional but not boring.”
Still, the compliment sends an unexpected flutter through my chest. I try to ignore the way his gaze rakes over me. “Thank you. What brings you to my office, Cole? You could have called.”
He leans back in his chair, as if he’s in no hurry at all. “Jennifer wants me to coordinate my speech content with whatever theme you've planned for the gala. She says my usual captain speech won't work for your 'upscale vision.'“
“She's right. Your usual 'we're going to work hard and play harder' won't exactly match the sophisticated atmosphere we're creating.” I pull out my tablet and swipe to our event overview. “The theme is Legends and Legacy, honoring the history of Renegades hockey while looking toward the future.”
“Sounds fancy.”
“It is fancy. Five hundred of New York's wealthiest hockey fans are paying five thousand dollars a plate to eat dinner and mingle with players.” I show him the preliminary timeline. “You'll need to mention specific sponsors, and Jennifer wants you to acknowledge the VIP guests I'm managing.”
Cole takes the tablet and scrolls through the information, his brow furrowed in concentration. “This is more complicated than I thought. What about timing?”
“We're thinking right after the main course, before dessert.”
My phone rings, the shrill tone cutting through our conversation. I glance at the screen and see it's the backup venue we've been courting all morning. “I'm sorry, I have to take this.”
I shoot him an apologetic look and answer. “Harper Hayes.”
The conversation is brief and brutal. Another rejection, another door slammed in our face. By the time I hang up, my fighting mood has evaporated.
“Still having problems with the Rainbow Room?” Cole asks, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it.
I nod miserably, sinking back into my chair. “They claim there was a booking error, but I think someone with deeper pockets made them a better offer.” The words taste bitter. “I don't know what else I can do. Every other venue is either booked, too small, or wants to charge us triple our budget.”
The thought of failing makes my stomach churn. This contract isn't just about money—it's about proving Hayes & Company belongs in the big leagues. If I can't even secure a venue, how can I expect Jennifer to trust me with eleven more events?
Cole studies my face for a long moment. “I know you’re determined to do this on your own, but I might be able to help with this if you let me.”
My pride immediately bristles. “Cole, I appreciate the offer, but—”
“I know the GM at the Rainbow Room.” He pulls out his phone. “One call should sort this out.”
I stare at him, torn between desperation and stubborn independence. Everything in me wants to handle this myself, to prove I don't need connections or favors. But my business, employees, and my reputation depend on making this event perfect.
“Fine,” I say finally, hating how small my voice sounds. “But this stays between us. I don't want anyone thinking I got special treatment because I know you.”
He nods solemnly. “Deal.”
Cole steps out to make his call, and I spend the next few minutes pacing and trying not to chew my nails. When he returns, there's the ghost of a smile on his face.
“It's handled,” he says simply. “You should get a call within the hour.”
“Thank you.” The words feel inadequate. “I owe you one.”
“No, you don't.” His voice is firm. “We're even.”
After Cole leaves, I try to focus on other aspects of the event, but my phone feels like it's burning a hole in my desk. Fifty-three minutes later, not that I'm counting, it rings.
“Ms. Hayes, this is Caroline from the Rainbow Room. I'm calling to apologize for the confusion with your booking...”
By the time I hang up, I'm on cloud nine. We have our venue. October fifteenth is ours. “Team meeting,” I call out, and Jessica, James, and Amber come rushing back into the conference room.
“We got it,” I announce, unable to keep the grin off my face. “The Rainbow Room is ours.”
Jessica whoops, James pumps his fist in the air, and Amber produces a bottle of champagne from somewhere. I don't even want to know why she had that in the office, and minutes later, we’re toasting with coffee mugs and paper cups.
The champagne is cheap and slightly warm, but it’s the sweetest bubbly I’ve ever tasted.
“But seriously,” Jessica says, setting down her coffee mug and wiping champagne foam from her lips, “what made them change their mind? They seemed so resolute this morning. Like, completely unwilling to budge.”
James nods enthusiastically. “What happened?”
I hesitate, the coffee mug halfway to my lips. Part of me wants to hide just how close Cole and I are. My team doesn’t know that Brett is my brother either, and I’d like to keep it that way.
But then letting them think that I single-handedly convinced the Rainbow Room to honor our original agreement seems wrong. Cole solved our biggest crisis with one phone call, and pretending otherwise isn't fair to him, even if he'd probably prefer to stay anonymous.
“Actually,” I say, “Cole Maddox put in a good word for us. He knows someone at the Rainbow Room.”
Jessica's eyes widen. “Wow.”
“Wait,” James says, looking confused. “I know you guys have to work together, but do you know him well enough to ask him for favors?”
Thankfully, Amber interrupts, and I don’t have to answer that question. “This is the best day ever. Not only do we have our venue back, but we got it because a literal NHL superstar made a phone call for us.”
“Yeah, it was really kind of him,” I say quickly, though my cheeks are warming. Suddenly, I can’t wait to see Cole this evening. But only to thank him. That’s all.