Holy shit. My memories of the tiny blond bombshell fill my brain. And so does that kiss from a year ago.
“I work for the San Francisco Thunder in their PR department, and I—”
“Are you really introducing yourself like I have no idea who you are?” I interrupt.
“Yes.”
“Dixie, we’ve played tonsil hockey, the only kind of hockey I like better than ice hockey,” I remind her not so gently. “You think I’d forget you?”
“This needs to be a professional conversation,” she responds flatly. “I’m calling about work.”
I have a brief but powerful surge of hope that she’s calling to tell me that the Thunder are bringing me up to play with them. I’ve been on their farm team here in Sacramento for two years now, which is one and a half years longer than I hoped to be here. But my mother wasn’t wrong in her assessment. I haven’t been playing great, definitely not great enough that they’d put me on the Thunder unless they had no other option. And besides, they don’t have their PR department call with that news.
“The Thunder is hosting their annual silent auction and cocktail party, and management would like for a couple of Storm players to be there as well,” she explains, her tone all detached and businesslike, which I take as a challenge. “It’ll give our fans a chance to see our up-and-coming—”
“I’m sorry, can you Skype me instead?” I ask interrupting her again.
“What?”
“Skype,” I repeat. “Can you Skype me with this invitation?”
“Why would I do that?” she demands, annoyed.
“Because I’d prefer it,” I reply and then I start to lie to help my case. “My phone network is horrendous in Sacramento. I drop calls all the time, and the connections are bad, like right now. I’m not sure I’m hearing everything you’re saying. Thunder charity? Fans? You should Skype me.”
“Are you serious?” she asks, still annoyed.
“I absorb information much better when I can look into the pretty blue eyes of the person delivering it,” I add. I know she can hear the cocky smile through the tone in my voice, but I want her to see it too. “I’ll be ready and waiting.”
I hang up and open my laptop again. It takes less than a minute before the Skype icon starts flashing. I click it and her face fills my screen. She’s gorgeous, just like I remember.
Her hair is longer than the last time I saw her, dusting her shoulders now instead of just grazing her chin, but it’s still glossy, straight and that perfect yellow-blond. She’s dressed, from what I can tell, in one of those hot power suits she wears daily to work, even though it’s after nine on a Friday night. She’s wearing a teal blouse with simple gold hoops, and her makeup is subtle. I wish I could ask her to stand up so I could see the full hot look, but she’d hang up on me.
Her eyes grow wide. “Are you naked?”
I look down. Right. I took my shirt off. “No. Do you want me to be?”
Again, she ignores me. This girl is way too good at that.
“As I was saying,” she starts again. “The Thunder wants you and one of your teammates to represent the Storm at an upcoming charity event we’re doing here.”
“Will you be at the charity event?”
She ignores that, her eyes leaving mine and glancing down at something in front of her. “I’ve already informed your teammate Jasper, and since he returned my voicemail I know he’s coming and can make his travel arrangements. I assume you’re in too?”
“Yeah. If you’re going to be there, I will be too,” I reply and wink when she finally looks back up at me through the screen. I glance back down at my phone on the desk beside me and realize I do have a voicemail. Oops.
Again she ignores that. “We’ve already cleared the time away with your coach, and the event is scheduled in between your games.”
They picked Jasper. That’s cool. He’s become my closest friend on the team, and he’s also my roommate here at the apartment. “You’ll arrive next Friday. The event is that night, and then we’ll send you back to Sacramento Saturday afternoon.”
I check my calendar. “I don’t have another game until Tuesday. Can you book me on a flight home Sunday instead? I’ll stay with someone in the city Saturday night, so no need for a hotel.”
“You mean Levi and Tessa?” she asks.
“Yeah. Or I could stay with you.”
She looks absolutely appalled by the idea, and I have to work hard not to be too insulted by that. “Are you propositioning me?”
