I hand her the one kitten, and I have to get down on my knees so she can pry the other one off my head.
“Mr. Finnegan,” a small voice says, approaching us, and I stay on my knees.
I tilt my head to let the small child know that I’m listening. Rule number one of being a mascot is you don’t speak and ruin the illusion.
“My daddy loves the Foxes, but I love you. Can you sign my jersey?” he asks with his little lisp. He can’t be older than four, he’s wearing a Foxes shirt, and he hands me a Sharpie with the cap on.
Sloane sniffles, leaning over and unclasping the Sharpie, helping put it securely in my hand as I sign his shirt. Sloane pulls out her phone, taking a few videos and pictures, and hands the mother her card.
“Send me an email and I’ll make sure you and your family get seats to a home game this year,” she says.
“That is so kind, thank you so much. I also think it’s amazing you’re working as an Omega. I saw the article onHockey Fanaticsabout you and your father working together,” the mother says, seeming in awe of Sloane.
It must be universal, then.
I can tell Sloane is holding in a grimace over the mention of the article. I also read it, and it did not shed a good light on Sloane. It read as an opinion piece on nepotism and Omegasin the workplace. But Sloane takes it in stride, smiling at the woman and the little boy.
“My daddy said Omegas shouldn’t work. But you work with Finnegan the Fox. That’s the best job ever,” the little boy says.
Sloane bites her lip before nodding her head and smiling. “It is the best job ever. And Omegas can do whatever they put their mind to.”
“I’m so sorry,” the mother whispers to Sloane who waves her off.
“Make sure you send me an email, and we will make it happen,” she reiterates.
I’m about ready to shed the mascot suit as Max and Eli come strolling in. They look friendly with each other, which isn’t surprising. Eli Beckford is kind to everyone.
I rip the head off, taking a breath of fresh air. Sloane glances at me, and I wonder if I look like a sweaty mess. But that can’t be cause I swear I can smell the faintest hint of peaches. There’s no way I have this Omega perfuming. No way. Besides, I haven’t really been able to smell her since the start of this new season.
“Wow, Sloane. You did an amazing job,” Eli tells her. Both of the men halt; can they smell her scent too? Or am I delusional? I can’t smell anything now, so I must have imagined it.
Pure masculine pride rips through me as I give a shit-eating grin at Max.
“Thanks. Honestly, Liz did a lot of work. I just took over for her.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You crushed it,” Max says, slinging an arm over her shoulder casually. Is this motherfucker trying to put some claim on Sloane?
Eli notes the motion but doesn’t comment.
“I’ll see you tonight for our flight to Dallas. Gotta spend some time with the wife and kids before we head out,” Eli says, waving us all off.
“Getting casual with the captain, are we?” Sloane says, bumping her hip against Max’s leg.
“He’s actually pretty fucking nice.”
“Speaking of nice, your donation was great, and the rally towels were a good call.”
“Thank you,” Max says, his cheeks heating. “I appreciate you for thinking of me to join the event and show people I’m not a complete dick.”
“Key word beingcomplete,” I toss in, and the large Alpha narrows his eyes at me.
Sloane sighs. “I got a lot of great videos. I’ll be posting throughout the week. I was thinking about another way you could help and also improve your image,” she says.
“What’s that?”
“I’d like to hold a fundraiser for Liz’s husband. See if we can’t offset some of their costs.”
“I’m there,” he says. He leans down and kisses the top of Sloane’s head almost absent-mindedly, taking them both by surprise. “Uh, yeah. Well… I got to go get ready for the game. It was good seeing you both,” he says, clearly feeling awkward.
