Page 17
“Honestly, it was my dream truck growing up. Or, rather, it was my father’s dream truck, and I guess he passed that onto me.” His smile fades at the mention of his father. “Anyway, when I signed my first contract, I got a Silverado in his honor, or whatever.”
“In his honor?” Everleigh presses.
He presses his lips together, and I force my gaze off them and up to his eyes. “He died twelve years ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” Everleigh and I both say at the same time, and my heart clenches for this guy.
He’s not just a hot hockey player. There’s a man beneath the surface, one that buys Silverados in his dead dad’s honor and nicknames them Silvia.
Why does that just make him even more attractive?
And twelve years…my little bit of research into him told me he’s been playing for eleven. His dad never even got to see him play in a professional hockey game. I’m not sure why that makes my heart break a little for him, but here we are.
“Thanks. It was a car accident. It was winter in Minnesota, where I grew up. His car hit a patch of ice and flipped him off the road. I always thought if he had that Silverado…” He trails off and shakes his head. “Anyway. Silvia.” He glances at me, and I have the sudden urge to know every single thing about him. He’s clearly still affected by losing his father all these years later, and, well…unfortunately, I can relate. Only my loss was a lot more recent.
“So tragic,” I say, and his eyes move to me for a beat.
“Awful,” Everleigh agrees quietly, and she studies him. “Minnesota, huh? You’re a Midwestern boy?”
He nods. “Born and bred.”
“We’re originally from Chicago. Funny how so many Midwesterners end up in these warmer climates, you know?” she asks.
They’re having a conversation, and I’m just sitting here, staring at him. Gaping. Like I can’t believe my eyes that he’s really here. Which gives me pause.
Why is he here, again?
Have we established that yet?
“We could use the Minnesota angle, you know. But what, exactly, are you looking for out of this meeting?” she asks.
He shrugs, and he looks uncomfortable for a beat. His eyes dart over to me. “I, uh…” He clears his throat, and wait a second. Wait just a hot goddamn second here.
Is he affected, too?
It isn’t just me…is it?
“I have a full publicity team, and they do great work. This would be for an, uh, product I’m considering launching.” He trips over his words, and it feels like it’s a clue to something. I’m just not sure what I’m trying to decode.
“What product?” Everleigh asks.
“Tequila.”
“Tequila?” she repeats.
He nods. “Tequila,” he confirms.
Okay. So…tequila. He’s considering launching a tequila brand, and he just so happened to find Ever-Brand to help launch it?
“Well, Mr. Maddox, I think that fits with your current reputation. But may I ask…why tequila?”
“My reputation?” he asks rather than answering the question.
“Well, how do you think you’re currently perceived?” she asks.
“Why don’t you tell me?” he shoots back. He leans back in his chair and tips his chin up a little as he offers a sly little smile. His arrogance doesn’t diminish his attractiveness, somehow only showing that he knows who he is and gives exactly zero fucks about that.
She lifts a shoulder. “I could do a full brand analysis if you’d like, but let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? You’re consistently photographed at bars and clubs. You’re photographed with different women at nearly every event, rarely the same one twice. You’re known for your party attitude both on and off the ice. Am I in the right lane here?”
