"Max," Sadie admonishes. "Why do you want to volunteer for this? I appreciate your wanting to help me and all, but I don’t really see what you’re getting out of it."
"The same thing you are—a distraction." Reaching over, I pull her face toward mine, cupping her cheeks. "It’s been great hanging out with you, and it’s made me feel like myself again after everything that’s happened. And don’t deny it, Sadie, you know we have chemistry. I know the timing is all wrong, that nothing long-term can come out of this logistically. But if you had the chance to dance on a cloud, wouldn’t you take it?"
She squeezes her eyes shut, taking a beat.
"On second thought, don’t answer that. We established you wouldn’t."
Sadie’s lips tip up at the corners, and when she opens her eyes, she kisses me. It’s not tentative—it's relenting. As if she can no longer fight it, deny it. Leaning into her, I tilt her head at the angle I need it and deepen the kiss. We take our time exploring each other, savoring every taste, every stroke of her tongue against mine.
Sadie’s hands slide up my back, her nails scratching lightly, while I reposition us so that she’s straddling my lap. Her fingersdive into my hair, dragging along my scalp each time I pull her bottom lip into my mouth and bite it gently. My hands massage her ass through her cotton shorts, each movement of her hips making me even more turned on.
Breaking apart, we both inhale deeply, attempting to catch our breath.
"Damn, Sadie. What was that for?" I smirk, running the back of my hand down her cheek. "I didn’t realize public makeouts were your thing."
"This town deserves a little show, don't you think? And I was just checking to make sure that last night wasn’t a fluke." She kisses my forehead. "I didn’t want to commit to something without doing my research. How terrible would it be if I agreed to this and then the next month was spent trying to avoid you?"
Chuckling, I narrow my eyes at her. "And what did you learn with said research?"
Sadie smacks my chest lightly. "You already know the answer to that. Fishing for compliments isn’t your style, Max." With that, she slips off my lap, checks the time on her phone, and kisses my cheek. "You better get going. No one wears a hairnet quite like you. Wouldn’t want to deny the ladies of Mage that particular view."
After a long day slinging lobster rolls, I decided Sadie is right. I have to tell my family I'm leaving, and sooner rather than later. Nerves riot in my stomach as I make the drive over to my parents, replaying how it all went down with Perkins—how I secured a major role for an NHL team and all it took was a brief phone call.
Knocking on Perkins' office door, I wait patiently in the hall. After demanding Sadie’s car be pulled from the tow truck and turned over to me, I’m hoping this is an easy meeting—that maybe he finally has a good lead for me after I've looked myself for months.
"Come in," Coach calls.
"You wanted to see me?" I step inside, planting myself in the chair opposite his desk. "Got something good with Washington?"
Perkins smiles, nodding a little too enthusiastically for his normal no-bullshit demeanor. "Do you remember my having sent those videos of you to them a few years back?" I tip my chin in acknowledgement. "Well, I spoke to Coach Nash yesterday, and it sounds like he’s looking for an equipment manager. He said he specifically wants someone with coaching potential, someone that knows the sport inside and out."
"Don’t all EMs know the sport inside and out? What makes you think I’m the guy?" My heart is racing. I’d love the opportunity, but it sounds like a long shot. There’s a million other candidates that fit that description.
Perkins raises his eyebrow and frowns. "You’re the guy because he specifically asked about you. Said he wanted someone with swagger, that would look good on video switching sticks out with the players, not an old washed-up man like me." He grins at me. "Pays to be pretty, Max. And looks like your mug—which I’ll add isn’t that great—is getting you the chance of a lifetime."
"But he knows I’m qualified too, right? That I want more than just my five minutes of fame on social media when some basic-ass thing like switching out blades goes viral with the book girlies?"
My ego doesn’t mind the compliment, but this is serious for me. I don’t want to move across the country for a position thatonly values me for my looks. I love this sport, and I believe I have a lot to offer a team.
Perkins narrows his eyes, and his face puckers like he’s tasted something sour. "I don’t know what a book girlie is, but of course he fucking knows, O’Reilly. He’s seen the tapes, and he values my opinion. Like I said, you’re not that pretty." He stands, moving around his desk to lean against it with a small piece of paper in his hand. "This is his number. He said to call him if you're interested—you can work out the rest of the details directly."
Taking the paper from his hand, I stand and move to the door. "Thanks, Coach." He nods, and I exit, slinking back down the hall, wondering if this could really be so simple.
Opting to let Benny continue playing with the kids at the rink, I slip into a small utility closet and dial the number. It rings a few times, but just when I think I’m going to have to leave a message, he answers.
"Nash."
"Hello, sir." I run a hand across my forehead, wiping the sweat that’s beaded above my brows. "This is Max O’Reilly. Coach Perkins advised me to call you."
"Max, it’s great to hear from you. Perkins told me you're looking for a new opportunity. I need a new EM, and based on your recruitment videos, I think you’d be a great addition to my team."
"Thank you, sir. I’m definitely interested, but what are you looking for specifically?"
It sounds like he’s in the middle of something as papers shuffle in the background and a door opens and closes loudly.
"Listen, Max. I need someone coachable, someone I can depend on to look great on camera during the games, but that also does solid work. The media manager here is up my ass to keep up with Golden City and a few of the other teams thatnot only have their players doing fancy ass-shit but that keep winning."
"Okay."
