Page 4 of Home Game

The same Storm Rosling who was a total marketing liability—notthe squeaky-clean celebrity pro football player type that we needed to secure a deal with Racks superstores.

I took another sip of beer, trying to stem the tide of swear words that threatened to pour out of my mouth right now.

Keep calm, I told myself. If I had negative feelings around marketing clients, I tried my best to never, ever let it show.

“We’ll have to talk about Storm Rosling later,” I said, forcing myself to maintain a neutral composure. “I do have to jet home soon for a Zoom meeting, and I want to iron out a few more details for Racks Superstores right now.”

“Don’t worry, we will. But I’msoexcited that Storm might be on the show,” Nathan said. “My daughter said that everyone at her high school is following Storm on social media. He’s big with high schoolers, college kids, adults…”

And for all the wrong reasons, I thought, polishing off the rest of my beer.

The rest of the meeting was a blur.

I remained calm on the outside, like I always did, but my mind was racing. The guys were making a big mistake if they were even considering taking on Storm Rosling.

A mistake that I could hopefully talk them out of, in the coming days.

I quickly texted Landry, my closest colleague and friend, who was working with me on the Fixer Brothers marketing project.

>>Emmett Waycott: Meeting’s done. We need to talk about the Fixer Brothers’ potential next client, though.

>>Landry ”Lucky” Lucock: Sounds promising. Or maybe ominous. Can’t wait.

>>Emmett Waycott: We might have our work cut out for us. Buckle up.

Twenty minutes later, I was back in the Porsche, pushing the pedal down too far as I zipped back down the curving forest roads toward my home. When I made it back and took the car up the long driveway, I saw a little flash of motion beyond the gate to the side of the yard.

“Oh, Fluffball, are you backagain?” I said as I pulled the Porsche into the garage next to my Ferrari.

I hopped out and skirted around toward the back yard, leaves crunching under my shoes.

I found the same adorable, teacup black-and-white dog that had been turning up in my yard at random times every day. It was my new neighbor’s dog, and no matter how many times I put her back through the tiny hole she had dug beneath our fence, she always managed to dig through again.

Pepper was inside, wagging her tail and looking out one of the tall back windows toward the little ball of fluff. Pepper was my Husky, about ten times bigger than this little mop dog, but both of them acted sweet around each other, I’d discovered. I pulled open the door and Pepper bounded out, panting at the little dog.

“You’ve got to stay in your own yard, little one,” I told the tiny dog. She got into a playful stance with Pepper and I let the two of them romp around for a little while before guiding the little one back through her newly dug hole under the fence.

The neighbor had only recently moved in, and with my schedule, I hadn’t gotten a chance to introduce myself. It was about item number six thousand on my long list of things to do.

I took a moment to settle onto one of my lounge chairs outside by the pool. The sun had just dipped below the ridge of pine trees. I had six minutes before my Zoom meeting began, and then I’d be heading back out down the mountain toward Denver for a wrap-up dinner with Landry and my last big client.

I had a moment to pull out my phone. I searched Google for Storm Rosling’s name, my chest tightening as I braced myself for what I might see.

“Fuckme,” I muttered, frowning at my phone.

The first headline said it all.

Police Called to the Scene at Denver Pub: Storm Rosling Removed From the Premises.

The headline was from last night. I’d seen plenty of others like it in the past, and Storm’s reputation as a loose cannon seemed to beincreasingwith his level of fame, not going away.

I clicked on the link to his Instagram page and a whole host of photos and videos popped up—all of which were marketing nightmares, too.

My eyes scanned the most recent photo.

Storm Rosling was attractive, without a doubt.

Very attractive.

---