Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Okay, fine… Try to get some rest,” she says softly. “And stay out of trouble, Grizz.”
“I’ll do my best.”
We both know that’s a lie.
“Love you,” she adds before hanging up.
The line goes quiet.
I continue toward my hotel, caught in a stream of pedestrians all gawking at the lights shimmering against the desert night sky, artificial and perfect.
Vegas isn’t Paris. It never will be. But for a moment, I can almost hear my mom’s voice, full of wonder, saying Look at it shine.
Chapter 10
Daisy
The hall outside the locker room smells like rubber flooring and post-practice hockey, a toxic scent I’ve grown accustomed to in the last few weeks. I’ve been pacing it for ten minutes, phone in hand, checking the time every thirty seconds. It’s been four days since the Vipers returned from their West Coast road trip and not much seems to have changed.
Grizz McAvoy is late again.
He’s also still completely hardheaded, combative, and unwilling to make my job a tiny bit easier. What’s worse, he seems to have selective memory and has forgotten the fact he kissed me in a bar. And he’s most definitely playing dumb about that night at the club where he blurted to me about his father.
Of course, I haven’t pushed either of those issues, although I can’t stop thinking about them. Grizz’s protective wall is higher and stronger than ever, and frankly, I probably have no business trying to scale it.
My latest project is to get Grizz to a press shoot at Bartiz, the hottest new fusion restaurant downtown. It starts in twenty minutes, and the Vipers have spent a lot of time and effort securing the restaurant’s hospitality group as a new concessions partner. The chef’s expecting Grizz. The PR team’s expecting him. Everyone is expecting him, and yet the only person not concerned is the one being paid (a lot) to show up.
I spot Tanner coming down the hall, towel over his shoulder, earbuds dangling around his neck, totally unbothered.
“Tanner,” I call.
He glances up, grin in place. “Morning, sunshine.”
I tighten my grip on the folder in my hands. “Is Grizz almost ready?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. “We were supposed to be out the door ten minutes ago.”
He chuckles, slow and smug. “Oh, he’s ready.”
I narrow my eyes. “Then why isn’t he out here?”
Tanner leans one shoulder against the wall, clearly enjoying this, the picture of casual defiance. “Because he’s busy.”
My pulse ticks. “Busy doing what?”
“Playing ping-pong.”
I blink. “Ping-pong.”
“Yep. Intense game too. He’s up by three in the quarterfinals of the tourney.”
I stare at him, mouth sagging open. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” He spreads his hands. “He’s locked in, Turner. Focused. Can’t interrupt greatness.”
My patience is running thin and my blood pressure is spiking. “He’s supposed to be at a photo shoot for a multimillion-dollar partnership, not sitting around”—I stop myself before I say something I might regret and dial it back a notch—“wasting my time and the team’s money.”
Tanner grins as if this is the most entertainment he’s had in days. “Well, technically, he’s being active, not sitting around. That’s athletic, right?”
I inhale a deep breath and push away thoughts of strangling him with his own earbuds. “You’re a real comedian.”
He offers me a half bow. “Thanks. I practice.”
I step closer, lowering my voice so it lands like a threat. “Tanner, I’m serious. Can you please tell him to get out here?”
He raises an eyebrow, head tilted. “Can I? Sure. Will I? Depends.”
I frown. “Depends on what?”
“What’s in it for me?”
I blink, certain I misheard him. “Excuse me?”
He folds his arms, that smirk deepening. “I’m about to walk into the lion’s den and tell the franchise player to stop mid-match when he’s on his way to the semis to defend his title. I need hazard pay.”
A dam breaks within me and along with it, my control. Fury ripples and I hiss at him, “You’re unbelievable.”
He’s completely unfazed and shrugs. “Hey, I’m a professional. I know my worth.”
“Fine,” I snap, cutting the air between us. “I’ll owe you.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Nah. Owing me is too vague. I want a legit return.”
“You’re bargaining with me right now?”
“Think of it as a motivational strategy.”
I let out a frustrated laugh, half snarl. “Okay. Name your price.”
Tanner pretends to think it over, gaze rolling skyward as he taps his chin. When he looks back at me, he says, “Desserts. From Bartiz. For a month.”
“A month?”
“Thirty days. Unlimited desserts. Make it happen.”
“You realize this partnership is for premium concessions, not a dessert buffet?”
He shrugs, unbothered. “Sounds like a you problem.”
I cross my arms. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah, but I’m charming about it.”
I sigh, the sound exasperated. “Fine. You’ll get dessert. Whatever you want. Just get him out here and into a cab with me in the next sixty seconds.”
He grins. “Now we’re talking.”