Once we’re changed, the team’s publicist, Everly, strides into the locker room, tablet in hand, her sleek ponytail cinched low.
Max gives her an eyebrow wiggle as he knots his tie, but she ignores her fiancé and focuses on her job.
“Good game, guys,” she begins with a cheery smile, “and as you know we have one road game in Seattle before we head to Evergreen Falls to play at the minor league arena before the holidays.”
I nod, along with my teammates.
“I wanted to remind you that marketing’s goal is for the entire team to help promote our new minor-league affiliate. That means I would love it if you could be available for local PR.”
I fight off a groan. But it’s futile. It comes out anyway.
“I don’t think I need to remind all of you thatanyonecan be good with the press with a little bit of effort,” Everly says as she swings her gaze to the formerly grumpygoalie, flashing him a smile at last. Everly turned Max’s surly reputation around with a PR makeover a few seasons back.
Max flashes an over-the-top grin, then points menacingly at all of us. “You fuckers have no excuse then.”
I frown. I do my part in talking to the media, but it’s my least favorite part of the job.
“I know a lot of you don’t love publicity,” Everly adds, practically reading my mind. “But please remember how valuable it is to the organization to have you out there in such a lovely town, and we appreciate you in advance.” My Spidey senses tingle, and my frown digs deeper before she turns to me. “That includes you, Rowan, since I know you have a cabin there and that gives you a little bit of a connection to the place. It would be great to get a couple photos of you around town.”
My jaw twitches. I’d rather eat batteries than be the face of a Christmas village. I bought the cabin far, far away from Main Street for a reason. But I think of Tyler and his pre-game pep talk, of how my teammates are trying to have my back, and I think of my own plan to try with Isla on the practice date. Fact is, as much as I loathe public appearances that don’t involve pets, I should do my best for the team. That’s part of being a team. “Okay,” I say evenly.
“Wonderful. Thank you,” she says, then flips her tablet case closed. Good. This meeting’s almost over. “One more thing.”
One more thingis hardly ever good, so I brace myself for further pain. “As part of this effort we’d like to move the Christmas Eve gala to Evergreen Falls. You’re all going to be there on the twenty-third anyway for the game that day, so we hope you’ll stay in town another night. We willof course cover the costs for you and your families—for those of you traveling with family—to stay on Christmas Eve, too, should you wish. What better place to spend the holiday! And for those who need or want to return to San Francisco for Santa’s early morning arrival, we’ll have the team jet to take you back to San Francisco less than an hour after the gala ends.”
Kill me now.
That means more time in Christmas Town. I swear, the universe is out to get me at this time of year. But, on the flip side, Mia loves it there and I never want her to have a bad day, let alone a bad Christmas.
I grab my gag gifts, and my phone, then exit, ready to collect my favorite person. But before I can track her down, I bump into Jason waiting in the hallway, his eyes focused on his phone. He looks up right as I tilt my head his way.
“They let riffraff like you in here?” I ask.
“Shocking, I know,” he says, then knocks fists with me. “Good game. And I hear that the team is doing a PR push in Evergreen Falls.”
Talk about a super-agent. “Is there anything you don’t know?”
“It’s my job to know things,” he says, “and on that note, I think I’ll come over to your place and have a drink to chat about how the hell you’re going to pull this off.”
“One minute you think you’re gonna have a nice night alone, and the next minute your agent shows up.”
He rubs his ear. “I’m sorry, did you say how nice it is that your best friend is coming over?”
I stare at him, unblinking. “No, I don’t believe that’s what I said.” But he knows he’s always welcome, so I turn the other way and beam when I spot my mom, dad, andMia walking down the corridor. Mia runs the final feet toward me, and I scoop my kid up in a hug.
“Dad, what does a cat like to eat on a hot day?”
“Tell me.”
She grins impishly. “A mice cream cone!”
My mom laughs, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. She tugs on one of Mia’s braids. “We looked them up during the game. Cat and mouse jokes.”
“You didn’t watch every play?” I ask, with faux shock.
My dad wraps an inked arm around her, the snakes on his forearm curving down his skin. “We watched the good ones,” he says.
“Every play I’m in is a good one,” I say.
