“Alright, Mr. Lee. Let’s cut the crap, okay?” She straightens her posture as her tone turns into one that means no-bullshit-accepted. “You’ve had a long day and I have too. So, here’s the deal: no, I’m not a fan of hockey. I bleed football. However, my boss thinks that you’re a perfect fit for LSMP and I think so too. Now, are you going to sign with us, or do I need to go see if one of those Viking players want the job? I know their plane hasn’t left yet.”
I clench my jaw and glare at her before catching sight of a regular behind her, a girl I’ve slept with before. I reach into my back pocket, grab some cash from my wallet, and slap it on the bar. “How about I let you know in a day or two?” Standing, I lay a hand on her shoulder, smile and add, “In the meantime, if you rather have a Viking, go get one. Otherwise, you can wait for a bit. Nice meeting you, sweetheart.” Then I walk to the girl, grab her hand without a word, and take her home with me.
~
“What are you going to do?” Mike barged into my house this morning, wanting an answer.
“I don’t know. Don’t really like her,” I answer, fixing myself a protein shake.
“Of course you don’t,” he mumbles.
“She’s on the bitchy side and seems like she’d be a pain in my ass. She doesn’t even know anything about hockey.” I turn around, lean against my counter, and start drinking my shake.
“So? She doesn’t exactly need to know everything to do her job. Look, Carson,” he puts his hands together with his fingertips under
his chin, like he’s about to pray, “I think you need to do it. You need to straighten up a little. The league won’t tolerate you much longer if you keep going like you are, no matter how good you may be.”
“You mean, how good I am. There’s no may about it, Mike.”
He gives me a stern look. “Call her, tell her you’ll do it, and then suck it up and deal with it. Got it?”
“Yeah, sure.” I’m still going to make her wait until tomorrow at least.
“Carson?” I turn my head at the sound of the girl I brought home last night. She’s in one of my t-shirts. What the fuck is wrong with her clothes? She needs to put those back on, so she can leave. Not my clothes.
Mike shakes his head. “That needs to slow down too,” he says, ignoring her. “Don’t come crying to me when you catch something.” Mike grabs his things and leaves as the girl walks over with a frown.
“What’s for breakfast?” she questions with a sweet smile. I want to shake my head at her, but I don’t. She knows better than to ask.
“Whatever you get when you leave. Go change. I got things to do today.”
Chapter Three
Kinley
Two days.
It’s been two days, and I’m tired of putting off my boss. Carson Lee should have called me by now, but hasn’t yet. This is bad, and I’m probably going to be cleaning toilets if I don’t land this deal.
I’m in my cubicle thinking of how I can fix this, when an email pops up. My breath catches when I read it. It’s from Carson, and he wants to meet. I silently pray that this is a good email and not one that puts me in the unemployment line.
I gather up my stuff and hit the door to meet him.
The air is cold, and I pull my black trench coat tighter around my neck. I’m thankful for the heat in the restaurant. I notice Carson right away. He’s someone who you can’t miss.
Carson is over six feet tall, broad shoulders, and his thick dark brown hair is perfectly messy. However, it’s his eyes that could melt an ice rink. They’re a darker shade of brown that almost matches his hair. Peeking out through his pushed up sleeves, his tattoos stand out on his forearm. I had seen many photos of his full sleeve of artwork, but I couldn’t tell exactly what it was. His presence is strong in the room, and I pull all my bravery to keep up with him.
Our first meeting didn’t go well, but I’ve studied up on my hockey, and I’m ready for him this time. He isn’t going to win this, I’m going to get him to sign this contract.
“Mr. Lee, I’m glad that you emailed me. So, have you made a decision?”
“Almost.”
“I don’t know what that means.” I didn’t know if his tone is good or bad. “You are or you’re not? It’s a simple question.”
“Give me a reason. Tell me why I should do this.” He sips his drink that’s in front of him, and his facial expression is unreadable.
“Seriously?”