Page 14 of Golden Goal

I chuckle, shaking my head, before locking up my office and making my way out to my car.

“Tell us about you? Where are you from? What brought you here?” Ansley, the team’s rinkside reporter, asks me.

Happy hour with a few people turned out to be me, Sutton, Ansley, and Holly, one of Sutton’s friends who doesn’t work for the team. The pub they chose, The Golden Lion, is down the road from the arena and is packed to the brim. We were lucky to get a table at all as the bar area is standing room only. I’m surprised they’re not over their patron limit.

“I’m originally from Iowa, but I came to Florida for grad school and stayed. I was working for a private practice for a few years when this job fell into my lap. I had been thinking about making a change, so this was kismet. Out of grad school, I worked in the athletic department at the university up in Tallahassee. So this isn’t my first rodeo with athletes, although my experience is with D1 college athletes.”

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Both?” Ansley asks.

Sutton elbows her. “Ans, don’t ask that.” She turns to me. “You don’t have to answer. It’s none of our business. Is it, Ans?” She narrows her eyes at the woman in question.

“No boyfriend or husband. Just me and my orange tabby, Peaches. Which is kind of how I like it.”

I hope I sound convincing. I’ve repeated the lie so many times over the years that I almost believe it. Except as much as I’ve tried not to, I want a partner. A husband even. Someone to do life with. I even want kids. As much as the alarm bells go off in my head when I think about having kids, I want them.

More than anything.

I know I shouldn’t because I failed at being a big sister, which in theory, is less responsibility than being a mother. If I can’t even protect my brother, how will I ever protect my kids?

“Since we’re on the subject of dating lives, how’s yours, Sutton?” Holly asks.

I could hug her for changing the subject. I pop a tortilla chip into my mouth, glad the spotlight is off me.

“Nonexistent.” Sutton shakes her head.

“Why won’t you let Sebastian take you out? The man is fine, and he’s clearly interested,” Ansley says.

Sebastian, as in the British defenseman for the Storm, Sebastian?

“You know I can’t. He plays for the team,” Sutton says.

I glance between the two of them feeling like I’m missing part of the story. I mean I get it, and I can’t blame her. Mixing work and fun isn’t a good idea. And maybe she’s not interested in him the way he is in her.

“I’ve told you time and time again you’ll have to tell HR, but otherwise there’s no rule against it,” Ansley retorts.

“I still don’t understand why you know that,” Sutton says.

Ansley shrugs before taking a sip of her drink. “Because I do.”

“One of these days, you’ll tell me,” Sutton says.

“Stop changing the subject.” Ansley shakes her head. “I think you should take him up on the offer to let him take you out on a date.”

Holly leans closer to me and whispers, “Welcome to the weekly argument.”

“Not happening,” Sutton says. She turns her attention to me. “There’s a speed dating event I’m going to in a few weeks. You should come with me.”

“Nope, no thank you. I’ll pass.” I say.

“It’s fun. I promise. I go every quarter when they have one. Plus, Ansley’s coming.”

“Fun?” I snort. “Right. Making small talk with a bunch of random guys sounds horrendous.”

“I didn’t agree to go,” Ansley pipes up.

“Yes, you did. At our last happy hour.” Sutton takes a sip of her drink.

“Nope,” Ansley says, popping the p.