That was rude. I should apologize.
I notice a slight frown scroll across her face for a few seconds before she perks up, recouping from my stupidity. “Maybe that’s a good thing. Sometimes what you expect the most turns out to disappoint you more.”
She has me there. Payton was everything I had thought I ever wanted in a girl—beautiful, smart, funny, and charismatic—until she ruined my life and destroyed my relationship with my parents.
Upon further inspection, Kennedy is better looking close up than from afar. The problem is her clothes. She has flawless skin, like smooth porcelain, wheat blonde hair, similar to mine, except hers has flecks of dark blonde mixed throughout, and a smile that reaches up to her blue eyes.
But her clothes…what on earth is she wearing?
She’s dressed as if she raided her mother’s closet. Judging by her face, she can’t be older than twenty-five. In tight black leggings that leave no room to the imagination, it’s obvious she has nice legs. But the pink polka dots on them make her look about ten years old, especially when combined with an oversized old lady sweater in the same color and a black scarf with the same pink dots. What surprises me most is that she’s a reporter.
I have yet to see a female sports reporter wear something so ridiculous, knowing she has interviews lined up with half of Coach’s client list after the event.
Taking far too long to answer her, I don’t even realize the awkward pause I created by checking her out until she clears her throat to get my attention.
“If it’s all right with you, I would like to go inside and get setup. I will need to talk to whoever is handling the PR along with the Director of Donor Relations for Philly Clean before we even start with interviews.”
“No problem.” I open the door for her, and she steps into the quiet hallway. “I guess you need a press badge, too.”
“Yeah,” she smiles at me as we walk down the long tiled hall, similar to the one at the Wells Fargo Center, “that would be great. I know how you athletes like to avoid interviews when possible, but Alex promised me exclusives with the players.”
“You can start with me,” I offer.
She shrugs, not even giving the slightest indication that she wants to interview me, which strikes me as odd.
“What is there to know about you that I don’t already? You’re the starting center for the Flyers, you ended this season with seventy-one points. Congrats, by the way, that’s impressive. Shame, you guys, still couldn’t make it into the playoffs. Let’s see. You’re from Cherry Hill, so a local boy who made it big. With your stats and agent, you could play for a much better team, but you stay here out of what….loyalty? Home town recognition? That’s the one thing I don’t get about you. As far as your personal life, I never see you with girls, maybe a puck bunny here and there but nothing like what I saw from Parker or Donovan. I know your professional life—stats, position, all the basics—but that’s not the story worth writing.”
I’m impressed that she knows so much about me even though as a sports reporter it’s her job to know these things. When she speaks, she carries herself like she’s the only person in the room and everyone should stop to pay attention to her. Too bad she hasn’t learned how to dress. She could be super hot given better attire.
But Kennedy is not the kind of woman you chase after because of her looks. No, she’s the girl you admire because of her brain, and I like that about her. I can already tell she’d school my dumb ass.
“So, you want to write about my personal life? Is that what you’re saying?”
We reach the end of the hall, and I open the door to the main entrance, allowing Kennedy to go before me. Loud cheers greet us from inside the event center, which tells me Parker and some of the players have already made their entrance. I’m the asshole who woke up late and couldn’t make it here on time for Kennedy to get her photo op. Walking faster, I steer her toward the gym where all the cheering is coming from so we don’t miss another minute of the action.
“No offense, but I don’t know if your personal life is what I would call newsworthy. What Alex is doing for Coach will get a lot of press. Just not so sure anyone will care about what girls you hook up with outside the rink.”
“There’s more to me than hockey,” I spit back, defensive.
She flashes a sexy but arrogant smile. “I don’t doubt that. Care to share?”
I look away from her and into the expanse of the gymnasium, searching for Parker and finding him and Coach together. At least a dozen, if not more, NBA players huddle around them as Alex says something to Coach I can’t make out from a distance with all the fans cheering in the stands.
“I didn’t think so,” she says, answering her own question before I have time to answer.
My personal life is off-limits to anyone outside my inner circle. Even Parker doesn’t know about my family and all the drama that comes with Payton and my parents.
Ignoring her statement, I guide her to where Mickey is standing with Donovan, trying to put Payton behind me for the next few hours.
After the event ends, with Parker and Coach leaving to go live happily ever after, I introduce Kennedy to the players she wanted to interview and wait for her on the sidelines as she makes her rounds. I feel responsible for her today though I’m not sure why. Parker insisted that I help her out with the guys because some of them can be a little grabby and obnoxious, especially the players she had in mind.
She had a lady boner over Dante West, and I guess I can see why seeing as he’s hands-down the most dominate player in the NBA with the championships and stats to back it up, not to mention that fucker rakes in over thirty million dollars per year. I love hockey but damn if I didn’t wish I was better at basketball or football because those dudes make a killing compared to what we make in the NHL.
As the highest paid player in the league, I still pull in fifteen million a year, but that’s nothing compared to other professional sports. Coach landed me a sweet deal with Under Armour that she negotiated right before she handled Parker’s trade to Philly. Sponsors add a nice chunk to my salary. Growing up in a middle class neig
hborhood in New Jersey, my parents never had any money with two girls and me running around.
Ever since I was a kid, I had wanted to become a pro hockey player. That dream had carried over into high school, and since I wasn’t eighteen yet at the time of the draft, I went to Rutgers for a semester before I was selected in the first round by the Flyers. But life had other plans, and those plans almost derailed my entire career.