“That’s where I disagree,” I tell him calmly, earning a skeptical look from him. “There’s a difference between signing your name on a check for a hundred dollars and actuallyshowing upto participate in events that benefit people. Everybody needs to see you in action to understand that you’rewillingto step up.”
“I write checks with far more zeroes than that, sweetheart.”
There’s that name again.
At least he’s not calling me kid. I don’t react to the pet name as much as I want to. I also refuse to let myself soak in the fuzzy feeling that settles into my stomach hearing it, despite warning him that I don’t like it. “Good for you. I’m sure the organizations you’ve donated your hard-earned money to are thankful. But this isn’t just about a tax break anymore. It’s about making an actual difference. You can start by giving up your weekend plans to serve food at the soup kitchen this weekend.”
Janel, who’s been watching us like she’s tuning in to a tennis match, steps in. “The community believes in building strong foundations. Now that you’re signed with a professional team attached to our city, it means showing them you want to do the same.”
His jaw tics. “What if I don’t want to build strong foundations here?”
Before Janel can answer, I say, “Then you made a mistake by signing your contract.”
My boss doesn’t scold me. Mostly because she probably would have said the same thing. She’s never one to mince words, even if she does it lightly. Janel might not kiss our clients’ asses, but she takes a more political stance as the person in charge.
“It’s no secret that you’ve given a lot of money to charity,” I add, sitting down and pointing to my folder. I’ve done my research on him. I’ve seen the praise from old headlines that emphasized how much he’s given away. But that was then. This is now. “But Fairbanks is the type of place that does more than throw money around. We care about our people. When something happens, we come together. When tragedy strikes—” I swallow, remembering what Fairbanks did for my sister and me when my parents were killed. “They help their own. You signing with the Fireflies means you’re part of our community now. They’ll be a lot more receptive to you if they see you’re willing to show up the way others do.”
When Kourtney and I lost our parents, the local churches and food banks donated meals and groceries to help us get by. A few of the neighbors even raised funds from the community to cover the first year’s bills, since they knew my sister was taking guardianship while in college.
Fairbanks is a small city with a huge heart, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Not even with the sad history carved into the town and city borders.
Janel knows that I’m referring to my family and gives me a comforting smile before turning to Moskins. “It’s not often we send our clients out on this many appearances, but she has a point. With the Fireflies being new to the area and bringing a lot more attention to our city, it’s going to be important for the team to make a lasting impact. If the players are seen out mingling with long-time residents, it’ll go a long way. To the people here, you won’t be the headlines that the media make you out to be. You’ll simply be one of us.”
I can see him mulling it over. He doesn’t want to do it. If he says no, we can’t force him. But I think he’ll be making a mistake if he rejects this plan.
Apparently, he thinks so too. “The team’s board is up my ass to make good on polishing their reputation in the media,” he tells us, staring down at the paper. “I may not like this, but I don’t think I have another choice at this point. If I keep pissing them off, it’s only a matter of time before they find a reason to push me out.”
It’s a selfish reason, but one that gives us the green light. So, I don’t care why he’s going through with it, as long as it allows me to move forward.
Before I can say anything, Moskins pins me with a look and slowly curls his lips up. “I have a condition.”
The victorious excitement within me quickly deflates.
It’s Janel who slowly asks, “What is your condition?”
He points to me. “You have to do these events with me. If they’re that important, surely you wouldn’t want to miss out.”
I stare at him for a brief second before shaking my head. “That isnota good idea.”
“Too good for a little charity work?” he quips, trying to bait me.
Unfortunately, it works. “That is not it at all. If you haven’t forgotten, you being photographed with women is what got you into this mess. The last thing you need is to be pictured with me for the internet to run wild with.”
Even the thought makes my skin crawl. There’s a reason I deactivated my social media accounts. They’re more trouble than they’re worth. The last time I braved one of my platforms, it was nothing but negativity. Pass.
“While you have a point,” Janel tells me, tapping her fingers on the table thoughtfully, “it may actually not be a horrible ideato go with him. As a point person. Someone who’s familiar with the community and can make the introductions.”
I was already going to connect Moskins with the right people. That doesn’t mean I have to be there to hold his hand through it.
“Yeah, Winter,” Moskins goads, that annoying smirk still high and tight on his stupid, attractive face. Why does he have to be good-looking? His jaw could cut glass, and his eyes could make even Mother Teresa drop her drawers. “I’ll need someone who’s familiar with this small-town Hallmark community you seem to love so much.”
He’s mocking me. I get it. Maybe he wasn’t hugged enough as a child and doesn’t understand what it’s like to be part of a community. Perhaps he has an aversion to kindness because he’s never truly experienced it before. “You can make fun of Fairbanks all you want, but you’re going to realize that they’ll see right through your little facade as fast as I did. So when we go to the soup kitchen on Saturday, you’d better slap a smile on that pretty boy face and do your best to seem like you want to be there. Or this will all be for nothing.”
His smirk quickly drops, and his infamous scowl returns.
Janel clears her throat. “Any questions?” she asks Moskins.
His nostrils flare. “Looks like I have all the information I need right here,” he says, swiping the paper from the table and standing. “I’ll make sure to meet you at eleven sharp, princess. With a giant fucking smile and all.”
