As a favor to Ronni Norman, a friend and the owner of the most exclusive art gallery in West Palm Beach, I agree to attend a fundraiser and charity auction to benefit Palm Beach County children’s services. As I step into the hotel ballroom, it’s filled with everybody who’s anybody in South Florida. I recognize a few of the faces, and I’m glad I was able to find something in my closet that would fit in with this elite crowd since this was a last-minute invitation. The silky, royal blue dress that I wore to a holiday party is perfect for this function, although I don’t have the accessories to enhance it the way the other women here do. The amount of ice in this room tonight, as indiamonds, could support every family in Florida for years to come.
As I scan the room, I spot the Golden Blades contingent at a table in the corner, including the team owners and their wives, the Huffmans, and a few of the star players, including Jax. A pleasant tingle sends a small shiver through me as I admire howhandsome he looks in his black tux and crisp white dress shirt. Rather than a bow tie, he’s wearing a traditional black necktie. The entire ensemble accentuates his dark hair and beard, tanned face, and dark eyes. I don’t see any other women at the table, so it appears he’s not with a date.
After exchanging pleasantries with everyone at the team table, I continue to surreptitiously watch him, noting his laugh at something his team mate is saying, although the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. I wonder if he’s actually in pain or if he’s worried about something else.
After ordering and receiving a sparkling water from the bartender, I turn to find Jax trying to make his way over to me when he’s stopped by someone who looks like a reporter. The closer I get, the better I can hear his inquiries about Jax’s recent performance on the ice. Jax is trying to remain polite and diplomatic, but the man is irritatingly persistent.
Time for me to step in to the rescue. I take my place beside Jax on his right, lightly touching his arm and smoothly interjecting.
“Tonight’s not about hockey. I’d like to hear more about the charity’s impact on the community, as I’m sure the public would as well. Perhaps you could get a few words from the chair of the Golden Palm Foundation. She’s right over there.” I point the reporter toward the head table where Chairwoman Anderson is seated, along with the other board members, including my art gallery friend.
When the reporter slinks away, I turn back to Jax. “How about some fresh air?”
“Nice defense strategy. Thank you for that,” he says as he escorts me through the open French doors onto the ballroom balcony.
As we look out across the city of West Palm and the twinkling stars in the night sky over the beach, Jax speaks.
“You look very nice tonight.”
I laugh. “Thank you. But I’d much rather be in my sweats working on a big block of ice.” I take the opportunity to compliment him as well. “You clean up pretty good yourself. A tux is a good look on you.”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “Not my first choice of attire, that’s for sure. I’d rather be in my sweats, too. You know, it’s really frustrating dealing with the pressures of change, internally questioning everything I’ve ever done, while having to make all of these public appearances and acting like everything’s fine. Even though I’m used to putting on my game face all the time, I’m not really comfortable opening up to people. I barely know you, but you seem to be able to see things that most people don’t. Everyone has expectations of athletes. Like we’re public property. They assume we want to be in the spotlight. But I really don’t. Maybe itistime for me to hang up my skates.”
This huge man who looks like he could face any challenge and the most formidable of opponents is a gentle giant, a big old teddy bear. And he’s opening up to me. It seems he really does need a friend. Someone he can talk to without judgment. Maybe I can open up to him, too.
“Can I tell you something? I totally get having to live under others’ expectations and the assumptions that come with public life, especially in the athletic world. One of the reasons I’m in Florida now is that I needed to escape all of that.”
I take a deep breath and pause before continuing. Jax remains silent, perhaps sensing that I need to let out what I’ve been holding in.
“I was engaged to a pro baseball player. I was expected to be his arm candy and accessory at public events like this one. It turned into a full-time job where he was always front and center and I was in the background. He had no regard for my identity or career. He treated my art like a hobby, something to do inmy spare time whenever he wasn’t playing baseball or traveling. I lost myself for a while. I had to figure out what I wanted and needed. And to achieve that and find myself again, I had to walk away.”
Jax doesn’t say anything, simply places his hand over mine on the railing as we continue to look out at the city. Our silent connection is interrupted when someone from the PR team steps out onto the balcony.
“Jax, there you are. We need you for some photos.”
He sighs. “Duty calls.”
A while later, after saying goodbye to most of the event attendees I know, Jax catches my eye and saunters over to me, although the photographer is still taking publicity pictures.
“Hey. Thanks for rescuing me earlier.”
“No thanks necessary. You’d do the same for me.” An awkward silence ensues. “I guess I’ll see you later. Goodnight.”
I turn to leave, but Jax stops me.
“Wait. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night? As a thank you?”
His question surprises me. Is it indeed just a thanks for being a friend, or is there more to it? Against my better judgement and ignoring the previous warnings from Shay, I don’t hesitate to say yes. But I have an idea.
“How about a quiet dinner away from reporters and the public? You could come to my place in Pelican Point.”
“Thank you. That sounds really nice.”
“Great. Come by about seven. I’ll text you my address.”
As I head back home, my thoughts are consumed by Jax. The more time I spend with him, the more I like him. He’s not the pompous asshole I thought he was when we first met. My suggestion for a quiet dinner was for his benefit, but spending time together outside of the spotlight might do both of us some good.
CHAPTER 7
