Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Hockey isn’t my thing, but business is my jam. I also happen to love the idea of wiping everything Reid fucking Brewer created and starting something new—something I built, something I could make successful if for no other reason than spite.
He never thought I’d make anything out of myself. Out of all the kids, maybe besides Renn, he disliked me the most. So an opportunity to do something he couldn’t do in a world he created? It’s at least worth a consideration … and that’s without considering Aurora.
I wasn’t sure what her response would be when I asked her how she would recreate the hockey team if given a clean slate. I wanted to gauge her interest without putting her on the spot—really feel out the possibility of working together on something of this magnitude.
If it works, how special would that be?
“First, I’d get rid of that terrible Raptors mascot and replace it with something elevated yet relatable. We’d build an iconic logo that’s fresh and marketable—something that looks great on merch. That sounds crazy, but it isn’t. Great merch is easy marketing, and the best brands have it figured out.”
She’s right. Spot-fucking-on.
“New colors that don’t scream Midwestern US high school basketball.”
I laugh. She’s not wrong, though.
“With that said, we’d update the facilities and overhaul the arena. Give people a reason to want to come and spend their money here. Make it a good time.
"We need people who are a draw. People love winners, sure, but they also love people with a story. People they can root for or against. It doesn’t matter.
“Stronger digital platforms. Involve the fans and increase engagement. Start traditions. People love a tradition!”
Every word out of her mouth is inspiring, thought-provoking, and invigorating.
My girl is a superstar. I can’t wait to watch her take hold of this project and mold it into something we’re both proud of … because it would be ours.
“Might as well start building shit together now because I have no plans to ever let her go.”
I’ve fallen in love with her, and I fucking hope the feeling is mutual.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aurora
“What are we doing? Tate asks, stretching out beside me on his bed.
“Rotting.”
“Rotting.” He tests the words on his tongue. “What the hell does rotting mean?”
“It means we rot.”
He makes a face. “Which means what?”
“It means we’re going to lie here and do nothing. No effort. We’ll get up to go to the bathroom and refill drinks. That’s it. Think of it as if you’re charging your batteries.”
He grabs his cock and shakes it. “My batteries don’t charge unless I’m plugged in.”
I laugh as I curl up next to him.
We’ve spent every day together for the past couple of weeks, and every day it feels a little more like we’ve been doing it forever. We have our routine—Tate gets up an hour before I do and wakes me before he leaves. I usually get back to the house before him, so I start dinner, and he comes home at the end and helps me finish the recipe.
For someone who hasn’t lived with anyone before, at least as far as I know, Tate has adjusted very quickly. Surprisingly, he’s easy to live with, too. Not that I’ve moved in—that would be way too fast.
His circle has also been kind to me. We had dinner with Renn and Blakely one night, and his brother Ripley swung by to borrow something. He was a slightly different version of Tate, and we got along great.
So apart from Tate’s not-so-subtle suggestions about getting married, it’s been pretty perfect.
Work, on the other hand, is a different story. I’m not sure what the hell is going on there. Energetically working toward new goals and a new direction has just … stopped. Tally and I have very little on our plates. If anyone knows what’s happening, nobody’s saying a word.
Not even Tate.
Shouldn’t he still be leading us and overseeing the department's functions? It’s so … weird. And I don’t know what to make of it.
“What do you think about taking a vacation next week?” he asks. “Let’s get through the weekend, then spend a few days away—just the two of us.”
My chest constricts as I read between the lines.
I’ve been dancing around this for the past few days, too. Tate has been finagling a way to get me alone. He’s tried to take me back to Columbus for nostalgic purposes. I mentioned wanting to see Costa Rica, and he offered to sort that for me immediately. He even booked a house in Sedona, Arizona, but I made him get a refund.
I know what he’s trying to do, and I’m trying to avoid it like the plague.
“How do you think we have time to get away for a trip like that?” I ask. “Charlie just tendered his official resignation this week after his mom’s passing. We’ve had to mothball the rebrand for reasons I still don’t understand, and I feel like all the work that Tally and I have put in over the past couple of months has been for nothing, and nobody cares.”