Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
The wall.
The conference room.
Then he finally forces himself to make direct eye contact. “Nice to meet you, Juliette.”
Nice to meet me? As if he hasn’t seen me naked from the waist down and had his mouth on me!
Then, because I’m the most awkward person on the planet and have no idea how to react to his cool demeanor, I blurt out, “Good to meet you, sir.”
Aaron’s brows shoot up, the corner of his mouth twitching enough to suggest he finds the situation amusing.
Two idiots pretending…
Whitney checks her watch again, blissfully unaware. “We’re actually heading out to do a site walkthrough for the foundation fundraiser at the end of the year.” She hesitates, then tilts her head at Aaron. “It might be useful to get a player’s perspective. Would you have any interest in tagging along?”
He blinks at her. “You want my opinion on a ballroom?”
My heart begins pounding louder than it already had been at the thought of him tagging along.
“Please.” Whitney smiles. “You are more than welcome to join us.”
He hesitates for several seconds. “Sure.” Pause. “Why not?”
Why not? Why not!
Let me count the ways.
Then, when I think the situation cannot get any more awkward and uncomfortable, a voice interrupts, causing the three of us to turn.
“Sorry—am I interrupting?”
Out of nowhere, a tall guy slows to a stop, looking lost. He’s young, ginormous, incredibly good-looking—and apparently, he’s lost.
“Hi, sorry to interrupt,” he says again, giving us a cute little wave, although there’s nothing little about him. “I’m trying to find Coach Boucher’s office? Is it up here?” He looks this way and that, up and down the long, sleek halls. “I feel like I probably walked past it a few times.”
“Garrett Storm!” my boss exclaims, delighted. “You’re the second player to wander into this hallway while I’ve been standing here—this must be our lucky day!”
I wouldn’t say Whitney is flirting, but she sure does seem excited they’re both here.
I clear my throat and decide I should say something. Anything to add to the conversation. “We must be doing something right today. Players everywhere!”
His attention shifts, and he grins widely down at me. “Well, now I know the reason I got lost. Guess I took a wrong turn on purpose.”
Heat strokes my cheeks.
“Coach Boucher’s office is at the end of the hall, third door on the left,” Aaron deadpans, nodding his head in the opposite direction. “That way.”
Garrett ignores his teammate. “I’m Garrett,” he says, pointing at his chest. “In case you were wondering.”
“I…”
No fraternizing.
Termination.
Consequences.
He laughs, unfazed. “And you are?”
“Juliette.” I offer him my hand “Kennedy. My brother Declan is one of your forwards?” Why am I asking him like it’s a question?
Ugh. Get it together.
He grins wider. “He did not mention having a sister who works in the building.”
“I’m new.” And I’m blushing.
Whitney clears her throat. “Gentlemen, Juliette and I have to get to our appointment. Garrett, Aaron is tagging along. We’re taking a look around a venue for the fundraising gala. Any interest?”
“If I’m being invited to walk through a ballroom with two beautiful women, seems rude to say no.” Garrett stares at me while he says it.
“Perfect. The more perspectives, the better.” Whitney looks pleased. Then she points a warning finger at him. “But dial down the flirting a notch, would you?”
“No promises,” he says with a wink, following her toward the door.
I follow, hyper-aware that Aaron is behind me.
Aware of him as he climbs into the Uber beside me, hands to himself but thighs touching. Aware of him as he holds the door for me when we arrive at our destination.
For a few seconds, I stand at the entrance of the ballroom, awestruck.
Glass chandeliers, marble floors, and ceilings that rise to impossible heights. I imagine it filled with tables and decorations and players dancing—and raising hundreds and thousands of dollars for the team’s charity.
Whitney is already twenty steps ahead of us, phone out, snapping photos, laser-focused as her heels click against the floors.
“Okay, imagine the registration tables here.” She gestures wildly. “Silent auction items along that wall there, stage at the front—oh! We could do a shrimp cocktail station near the columns?” My boss wanders off, frantically dictating notes to herself.
Aaron and Garrett loom beside me, the rookie player doing his best to capture my attention, while my attention is still fixated on Aaron.
“So, what’s your job here exactly?” Garrett asks.
I’m not allowed to date you, dude, dial down the flirting a notch…
“Player Engagement is my official title,” I tell him proudly, satisfied when he looks suitably impressed.
He perks up immediately. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m your social fairy godmother. You want to visit sick kids at a hospital? Done. Autograph signing at a sports expo? Scheduled. Charity appearances, photo ops, community events—I’m your girl. I make you look good when you get to where you’re going.”