“Willz Sub Shop.”
“Hello. Is this Aviva Pearce?”
I honestly want to lie. The lady sounds like a debt collector. “It is.”
“Hi, my name is Joann Williams, and I work for the IceCats.”
“The what?”
She chuckles softly. “The IceCats? The NHL hockey team.”
“Oh. Duh, sorry.”
I want to say I’m a fan, but I’m not. I have no freaking clue what is going on with that sport. I can never find that stupid ball thingy. They start fighting for no damn reason. There are too many rules, and it confuses me. I know people think the guys on the team are gorgeous, but I haven’t met one with a full set of teeth yet. The only good thing is that penalty box. I wish I would only get put in a box for doing something wrong. All the things I want to do would result in jail.
“It’s fine. I hear you’re very busy.” How in the hell does she know that? “Anyway, the reason why I’m calling is one of our players has raved and raved about your subs. He insists we have them for game days. If you’re interested, I would love to sit down and talk to you. How much we’d pay, what we would need from you, and so on.”
I just blink. “I’m sorry. I’m not following.”
She giggles. She’s a giggler, apparently. “Which part?”
“You will pay me to make subs for your team on game days?”
“Yes,” she says excitedly. “I would love to meet with you as soon as possible. Our season is already in full swing, and he wants them as soon as possible. We’re all about keeping our boys happy so they’ll win for us.”
She’s giggling while I’m standing here dumbfounded. “Um. Okay? When would you like to meet?”
“You’re off 4th, right? I can come by tomorrow before you open or during a lull in traffic.”
“Nine thirty? That would give us about an hour. As long as you’re good with me working while I listen, then I can kill two birds with one stone.”
“I love a hardworking woman. That sounds wonderful. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you.” Before she can hang up, I ask, “Who is the player?”
“Oh, sorry. I should have said. It’s Nico Merryweather. Our goalie. Huge fan of your food.”
It’s as if she knocked the air out of me.
I can’t seem to process what I’ve just learned.
“Okay, so I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes. Th-thank you,” I stammer out.
“Thank you.”
The line goes dead, and I just stand there with the phone to my ear. I slammed my car into Nico Merryweather, the golden boy hockey goalie, whom everyone in town is in love with. He asked me out. And he helped my sister with her homework. And now he loves my subs?
What. In. The. Living. Hell. Is. Happening?
When the door opens again, I look up with my jaw hanging open. Callie looks at me, and she brings her brows together. “Oh no. Did Dustin say no?”
I shake my head. “Actually, he said yes. It’s not that.”
She does a little jig. “Thank God. Then what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I just gawk at her. “Nico, the guy I hit? He’s a hockey player. Like the goalie everyone loves from the IceCats.”
She blinks. “No. Way.”
“Yes.”
“You know, I thought he might be something hockey-ish, ’cause he talked about it when he was helping me the other day.”
“You didn’t put two and two together?”
“I have no clue what hockey is,” she says simply.
“Touché,” I say with a nod. “But he asked for the team to have my subs on game days.”
Her eyes light up. “Veev, that could be huge money!”
My eyes widen with hers. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“Wow, this is awesome! Such a blessing,” she gushes as she walks over to me. “Like seriously. Be excited.”
“I’m finding it hard to breathe,” I say softly, and she laughs.
“And just think, if you guys got married, you’d be rich! He’s, like, super loaded. Can you take me to Barcelona when you’re loaded?”
I roll my eyes. This girl. “For one, you don’t marry a man for money—”
“Um, after everything you’ve been through, you should.”
I shake my head. “No way. I work for what I want. And for two, he isn’t interested in me.”
She gives me that teenager’s look of boredom. “Yes, he is. He asked me to get him a date with you. And he is getting you a huge job, which is helping your business, just like he helped me with my homework. He likes you.”
I laugh nervously. “He just feels bad for what happened.”
“Or he thinks you’re smoking and wants to hit it.”
I widen my eyes. “Calliope!”
“What? You’re the one who sent me to public school.”
“Still!” I scold. “And he doesn’t want to hit it.”
She doesn’t seem convinced. “Veev, you need to let him hit it.”