Janel isn’t often frazzled, but she looks discombobulated today. “Is everything okay?”
The small smile she offers me is tired and not at all convincing. “I had a lot of calls to deal with this morning because we’re a bit short-staffed.”
My brows knit together. “What do you—”
“Come on,” she urges, gently pushing me out of her office and guiding me to the conference room. “How are you feeling? Good? Nervous?”
Like I want to pee my pants, is the answer I want to give her. I definitely do not say that though. “I feel great.”
My chipper tone is clearly as believable as her phony smile because she gives me an arched brow.
I tone it down. “I’m a little nervous, but I feel good about what I’ve come up with. It’s mostly up to him to agree to do these events. That’s going to be the hardest part.”
Janel hums her agreement as she unlocks the door and flicks on the lights. “You came up with a solid plan. We haven’t even considered partnering with some of these local organizations before.”
I blush at the sound of her approval. I’d worked tirelessly to create a list of places for Thomas to make appearances. Organizations that our community appreciates. If they see one of their newest members helping the less fortunate, it could give him a boost that he desperately needs right now.
“Moskins—” I start to say, before Janel’s eyebrows dart up at my informal address of him, making me wince. “Er, I meanMr.Moskins. Uh…Thomas—”
“I told you I don’t go by that,” the man himself says, walking in with his usual scowl. Does he ever smile? He sort of did during lunch. It was more like a smirk, but same difference.
“It’s Moskins,” he says, dropping into the spot he sat in last time. “I’ll accept ‘Royal Liege,’ though. Once, I was nominated for Sexiest Rookie of the Year, so I’ll also answer to that.”
Before I can help myself, I ask, “But did you win? Because you can’t claim that title if you didn’t earn it.”
His cheek twitches like he’s refraining from smiling, but he shakes his head. “Alas, I got second place.”
I make a thoughtful noise. “Then I guess you’renotthe sexiest rookie of the year.”
Janel clears her throat. “Moskins it is then,” she says, bringing the conversation away from who is or isn’t sexy.
His eyes are on me when he replies, “Good.”
I force a smile that feels stiff, and the prickles traveling along my limbs spread to my stomach until heat settles there. This man, who looks far too casual and closed off, is not the same one who bought me food to take home. He’s cooler. Stiffer. On guard. A different persona.
What are you hiding?is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it there until I suffocate my curiosity.
“Hi,” I greet, my voice a pitch higher than normal as his eyes remain on me.
So much for the confident professional woman I planned on being today. At least there’s no coffee stain.
Moskins doesn’t greet me back as he leans back in his chair and drums his fingers along the edge of the table. “Let’s see these grand plans that you spoke so highly of during our last meeting. My team is talking about benching me during our preseason games, and I don’t want that to happen for obvious reasons. So these better be good.”
No pressure there, I grumble to myself. What happened to the playful version of him from thirty seconds ago? Did he forget Janel was in the room? Is this a big game for him? The longer I’m around him, the more questions I accumulate.
I walk over to him and place the sheet down with a schedule of events over the next month and a half. Six weeks isn’t a lot of time to work with, but it’s the only availability he has between now and when the Fairbanks Fireflies start their preseason matches, according to the game schedule on their website. I had to cross-reference to triple-check the dates worked and confirm with his manager, Scott.
Moskins scans the sheet with an unreadable expression before I see the slightest movement in his jaw. “These are charities,” he states, finally glancing up from the paper. “And…Furrever Home?”
He’s not addressing Janel.
I stand tall and nod. “Furrever Home is an animal shelter. Fairbank’s largest one.”
“I would hope so,” he says. “It’d be an unfortunate name for a nursing home.”
I ignore that remark. “The rest are local nonprofit organizations that mean something to our city. They’ve done a lot of good in our community—helped the less fortunate, offered comfort and support when people needed it the most. If you want people to take you seriously, then you need to participatein the culture here. Perhaps if you do it first, you can convince the rest of your team to hold an annual event at some of them to raise awareness together. You know, hand out holiday meals. That sort of thing. Consistency is good for image.”
Moskins blinks. “Is this a Hallmark movie or something? I’m a professional hockey player, not a kitchen server. I’ve donated to charities before. This is nothing new.”
