He settles into the chair without being asked, finding a natural position immediately. Instead of fidgeting, he sits comfortably with his shoulders back. It’s stoic.
“So, how does this work?” he asks.
“I’ll take some reference photos first, then make a loose sketch. The photos will help me finish the painting later, but the sketches capture the moment in real time.”
“That sounds interesting.”
He laughs, and I snap the first photo. His entire face is full of joy that will translate beautifully to canvas. My goal is to capture the personality that leaks off the page.
“I’ve heard you’re the hockey player whisperer,” he says, smirking.
“Oh, is that the word on the ice these days? They used to call me The Destroyer.”
“Well, I think they still call you that too,” he tells me. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I say.
I have a type. And they’re always hockey players. Maybe I am a puck bunny, but then again, I actually appreciate the game. The players are a bonus.
The conversation is playful as I move around him, taking shots from different areas in the room. He doesn’t try to pose or control his expression. It’s refreshing after Hunter’s constant adjustments and need to fill every silence with his own voice.
“How’s it going so far?” he asks. “With the project, I mean.”
“Good. Two down, eighteen to go.”
“Hunter behaved himself?”
I snort, and Callan grins.
“That bad?”
“He asked me out four times in the hour we were together, knowing my father would murder him if I said yes.”
“Only four times? That’s restraint.” Callan shakes his head. “He once asked a reporter for her number during a postgame interview. On live television.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish. Coach almost benched him the next game because of it. His publicist lost her shit, and so did his agent. A filter isn’t included with the Hunter Matthews package. Pretty girls are his kryptonite.”
I chuckle and actually relax. Chatting with Callan has always been easy. That hasn’t changed over the years.
“Speaking of Coach and his temper,” Callan says, “do you think he’s serious about you not dating anyone on the team?”
“Very serious. Why? Are you interested?”
He laughs. “No. You’re not my type.”
“Ouch.”
“I just mean, what if you fell in love with an Angel? What would happen?”
I’ve thought about this before. “I think he would trade the player. He won’t coach someone who might be his son-in-law.”
“That’s putting a lot on the line,” Callan says. “Did you ever date Nick Banks?”
My face cracks into a smile. “Nick? No.”
“There was a rumor a few years back that he almost allowed a trade of Nick Banks because he wanted to take you out.”
