Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Erin’s a pro so she rolls with the change. “Tell us about the real Max Lambert then.”
Here goes nothing. I don’t steal a glance at Everly, since I want to keep my focus on Erin as I share the truth of who I am. “Fun fact: I foster rescue kittens. Actually, I adopted one recently. She’s a tiny spitfire. She’s the sixth rescue kitten I’ve fostered in the last year but my first foster fail.”
“That’s adorable,” Erin says.
“She’s a hellion, and she has me wrapped around her little paw. Other things about me—my parents are teachers. I like to hang out with them. I like to spend time with my little nephew. My favorite place to eat is at a restaurant that my parents’ best friends own. I take online classes to keep my mind sharp, and I can and do destroy all my friends in poker on the team jet. And one of my favorite things to do is to watch movies and eat popcorn and spend time with…” I pause because I was going to say the love of my life. But my reflexes are really sharp, so I make a game-day decision and change it up. Might as well tell the whole truth. “My future wife.”
Erin’s eyes widen to saucers. “You’re…engaged?”
“Not yet. But soon. I will be,” I say, believing it completely. “There’s a woman I’m madly in love with. It’s the kind of love that makes you get on TV and tell everyone. The kind that makes you want to do whatever it takes for her. The kind that changes you.”
I don’t name Everly. I don’t drop a hint as to who she is. I don’t say she works for the team. But when Everly walks into that meeting with her boss today, I want her boss to know that I’m behind her completely.
And I suppose in an hour when this airs, the world will know too.
54
BREAKING THE RULES
Everly
“You. Went. Off. Script.”
In the elevator one minute after I watched them record his interview, Max shrugs, giving me the most easygoing grin I’ve ever seen. I’m still in a state of complete and utter shock, but it’s the kind of shock that makes my bones hum and my heart sing.
“What were you thinking?” I ask as thrills race through me.
“I was thinking of you,” he says, like it was the simplest thing in the world that he did.
“Future wife?” I ask, because I still can’t believe he said that. I also can’t wipe the smile off my face.
“You will be,” he says, cupping my cheek. “I know your type. I’m your type.”
I’m barely able to process his bold, out-on-a-limb words, but they’re going to live rent-free in my head for the rest of my life.
Because…he’s probably not wrong.
But there isn’t much time to bask in the sheer audacity of his mic drop—not when I have a meeting to get to at the Sea Dogs arena. A meeting that will probably be helped by his statement. The fact that he said all of that has to give my boss some confidence that our romance isn’t a one-way street. That will matter. I’d never thought to ask for his backup. But I have it.
Max takes me back there quickly, parking in the players’ lot, then walking me to the stairwell, where I say, “Wish me luck.”
He shakes his head. “Nope, because you don’t need luck. You have facts.”
Facts matter. And with the facts in my pocket, I head upstairs to the management level and walk down the hall with a plan.
When I first contemplated telling my boss about my relationship with the goalie, I figured I’d plead for her to let me keep my job.
Not anymore.
I’m not going into Zaire’s office to ask to stay.
I’m not going in there to beg for her permission either.
And I’m not going in there to lay my head on the desk and ask whether she’s going to drop the guillotine on me or not.
I am powerful, and I’m going in there from a place of power.
I march down the hall in my black pantsuit like an avenging goddess of business, ready to take on whatever comes her way.
But along the way, I spot the back of a preppy blond head. Well, this calls for a quick detour. I stride right toward Elias’s cubicle and knock on the half-wall. He looks up with a smug look on his face, like he thinks I’m about to cave to his demands.
I get the first word in. “I don’t care what you do with that photo.”
“W-w-hat?”
“Post it,” I spit out. “I don’t care.”
“But, but, but—” he sputters, clearly unable to form a single sentence.
I lean closer. “You don’t scare me. You’re a small man with a small, shriveled heart.”
I turn around and walk away from him.
As I’m leaving the cubicles, Jenna pops up from hers, clapping and cheering. “You go!”