“He’s a great catch,” Blue Eyes cuts in, as he scratches an itch on his cheek. “He’s such a gentleman, and we’re hoping we could talk to you about anarrangementwhere you couldworkdirectly with him for some PR opportunities.”
“PR?” I echo. “You want me to sing in a commercial or something?”
“It’s more like acting,” Blue Eyes clarifies.
“I can act a little, but you’ll have to talk to my agent.” I toss a look down both sides of the street, thinking how odd it is to have these two guys show up, expecting to hire me like this.Everybody knows you have to go through management. “Her name is Bailey, and she’s great. I’ll give you her number.”
“No agent,” Baldy commands, his voice getting deeper. “This needs to be off-the-record.”
“You know . . .” Goosebumps spiral up my spine, and I’m getting the total heebie-jeebies. “I’m fine. I’m not currently looking for any work.” I shove on the door again, but it won’t budge because that guy's mammoth foot is still wedged in the door. “Do you mind?” Losing patience, I point to it, motioning for him to move it. “I listened to your pitch, and I’m not interested.”
“Maybe you need to see a photo?” Blue Eyes blurts out, frantically scrolling his phone. “Trust me, I’ve had my heart broken plenty of times, and the best way to move on is to get revenge. All you have to do is show up to a home game, pose with our star center, and accidentally let it slip that you’re dating—”
“What?” I snap, this conversation getting worse by the minute. “You want me to lie about dating someone? Why on earth would I do that?”
“Revenge, remember?” Baldy inserts his stubby index finger in the air between us. “On your cheating ex-fiancé.”
“Not myfiancé.” That word literally digs at my soul. The hurt and pain stabs at my heart, over and over, ensuring I’ll never heal from this trust betrayal. At this point, I wish these two were actually pastors of a new church. Sign me up to host coffee and rolls committee even! I can make a mean Jell-o salad for a potluck.Anything is better than hearing them call Rocco my fiancé.
“Right, but don’t you think it would be nice to see Rocco’s smug, arrogant, and haughty face when he sees you snuggled up next to our star center?” Coach slides his phone in front of me. A photo of a super tall man wearing a blue and orange jersey flashes in front of my face. His crew-cut hair is dark and wavy atthe tips, which is enough to send my eye sliding down his square jaw, and an electric zap slaps my heart as soon as I land on his pouty lips. My eyes pace his bottom lip back and forth like they are stuck on the bottom loop of a roller coaster. I’ve never seen a pair of lips that luscious before, and I struggle to keep my jaw from hanging open.
“Excuse me.” I exhale, a flush of warm energy rising through my chest. “You want me to take a photo with thisnice-looking man?” My tongue gets in the way when I say the word nice, and I screech all the while I’m stuck onthoselips. These two guys really know how to build an argument. This man in the photo is seriously gorgeous, and I have to admit they are right. I’d love to see Rocco’s conceited smile wiped right off his face when he sees that I’ve rebounded so fast.
“Yeah, we’ll work out all the details, but that’s the basics.” Coach pushes the phone a little closer to my face, and the closeup sends another flush of heat to my cheeks.
“I’ll do it.” My eyes don’t move from the photo. I mean . . . way to sell an argument. “For the sake of revenge,” I blubber, “I’ll take a photo with your baseball guy.”
“Hockey,” Baldy interrupts. “We are the sport that plays on ice.”
My lips form an O, but I don’t make a sound. I try to steal another look at the photo, but Blue Eyes drops it to his side.
Baldy adds, “I’m Bill Baker, by the way. I’m the team owner, and this is our coach, Kurt Carlson. We know we have the right guys to win, but winning doesn’t always make you money. We need help getting some fans because they are the ones who buy tickets.”
I wasn’t arguing as I was still a little confused about how they even devised this plan. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be in town.” I pause and wait as an old dually truck races down the road, letting all the neighbors know he’s tough, and the scentof diesel gas wafts through the air, irritating my nose. It gives me just enough time to think about this offer, and a shiver runs down my spine. I scan the skyline and think of the oncoming snow.That must be the reason for my tingles.As the engine noise declines, I set my eyes back on the coach. “When do you need me to work?”
“How about tomorrow?” Bill suggests. “You can come by the arena after morning practice.”
I nod. “I’ll be there, and say—” I hold up a finger, pausing. “Can you forward me that picture?” The coach’s eyebrow hikes north, and I tack on, “I want to make sure I can remember what he looks like. You know, to make my acting believable.” Coach’s smile slowly spreads on his face, as if he knows he’s struck a chord somewhere inside me.
He can’t really know that, though.
Because it didn’t happen.
I wave as they stroll back down my walkway, and then I can finally close the front door, confusion swirling in my brain about what just happened.
But one thing is pretty clear.
I’m not crying anymore.
And I know another thing.
I really do wish I could see Rocco’s arrogant smirk deflate when he sees I’ve moved on with someone that hot.
And maybe I really do want revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.
five
Axl
