Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
And Harley is at Tyler’s this weekend.
Dominic’s words about spending a whole weekend worshipping me float back into my mind. This is the weekend. I’ve already decided. I’m nervous, but ready.
The guys rustle around, shoulder bumping each other in the tight space. “Watch it,” Anderson snarls.
“You’re standing on my toe,” someone says, though I’m not sure who.
“Whoever’s dick is touching my butt needs to back the fuck off.” Given his smirk, that was definitely Dominic, but his back is to the wall and no one is behind him at all.
Trina stage-whispers, “Be ready, boys. In three, two, one . . . go, go, go!” She waves at them to follow her, and dutifully, they do, though Anderson and Kipson throw elbows a bit, jockeying for position. I’m not sure what to think about them. Dominic says they’re slightly closer to possibly beginning to not hate each other completely, but I don’t see it. The thirty minutes in the claustrophobic kitchen with them felt like someone lit a stick of dynamite and we were standing around twiddling our thumbs while the fuse burned. But so far, no explosions.
Dominic hangs back, stepping into line right in front of me. The look he shoots me is filled with heat, making me think he might’ve been reading my mind about what’s happening later.
Blush heating my cheeks, we enter the party to applause. It’s not the roaring claps they’re used to when they hit the ice, but rather the polite claps of the wealthy who’ve come to donate their dollars for the tax write-off. Though there are quite a few true fans it seems, holding baby-blue Blizzard jerseys and posters in preparation for the players’ autographs.
The guys wave at the crowd as they come in, staying behind Trina as she leads them to a table set off to one side. “Line up,” she tells people who start to move toward her. “This isn’t a feeding frenzy. That comes later.” She winks at a family who’s made sure they’re first in line. “During the scavenger hunt.”
The meet and greet lasts for nearly an hour, and to my surprise, the guys are pretty good sports about the whole thing. They’re friendly and charming, smiling for pictures, signing autographs, and thanking people for coming out to support the Blizzard and the zoo.
It feels like the first part of my plan is working—the fundraising aspect. But I haven’t forgotten the reason I came up with this idea in the first place—Dominic’s need for team-building.
“If I could have everyone’s attention, please,” Carl, our CEO and president, says into a microphone. Once he’s sure he has all eyes on him, he announces, “While I am so happy to have the Blizzard here, I must announce that it’s time for our scavenger hunt. For every completed list, our corporate sponsor, Set Grocery, has agreed to donate one hundred dollars.” He looks over to a woman on his left, who nods with a serene smile. I think she’s the CEO of the sponsoring grocery chain. Or somebody on the board, at least.
“I will pay the hundred bucks myself to not do that,” Kipson grumbles under his breath.
“We’re participating,” Dominic says firmly, standing from his chair. “We’re gonna crush this scavenger hunt. Let’s go. Hands in.”
Dominic puts his hand out, waiting for the other guys to lay theirs on top, and to my surprise, the other guys stand with Dom, stacking their hands on his. Pacholek even taunts Kipson, “Come on, man. Behind the scenes, all over the zoo, at night? When are you gonna get a chance to do that again?”
With a beleaguered sigh, Kipson puts his hand in, though he doesn’t stand.
“Blizzard on three,” Dom prompts. “One, two . . . Blizzard!”
The guys chant together as they throw their hands in the air. Quick as I can, so as not to squash their enthusiasm, I grab scavenger hunt papers and hand them out. Reluctantly, Kipson takes one, and still grumbling, he leaves with the rest of his teammates.
At least he kept his, though.
Not everyone does the hunt, and there are several people milling around the picnic area, chatting about this and that. I talk to a few groups, sharing how important Caprice’s baby is for our zoo and encouraging them to donate.
“Looks like you might get your wish,” a voice says behind me. I turn and to my surprise, see my dad standing there. His wife, Vanessa, is at his side, smiling warmly.
“Dad? What are you doing here?” I say, completely shocked.
“You invited me.” He says it matter-of-factly, as though I haven’t invited him to dozens of school plays, graduations, and birthday parties that he’s never once bothered to come to.
Vanessa weaves her arm through Dad’s. “When Robbie told me about the fundraiser, I knew we had to come. He’s been so excited to see where you work.”