Page 35 of Drawn to You

Julie: I’m sorry I’m texting so late, I’ve been busy with my kids all evening. I just hopped on my email and saw your messages. Jane told me at the end of the workday that Monica has the Brightside account now.

I read the message twice, not believing it. My blood pressure is rising steadily when I text Jane.

Josie: Did you give Monica my Brightside account?

Jane: The client belongs to my agency, and yes. You aren’t available for in-person meetings right now and Monica is.

I want to throw my phone at the wall. Why did my aunt give me this damn job babysitting Dane? It isn’t adding anything to my PR skill set, and it just cost me my biggest client.

Of course she gave it to Monica. Of all my coworkers, I dislike her the most.

Dane: What’s wrong? Did the bookstore run out of books?

Josie: Eat shit.

Dane: We’re going out with some of the guys after the game, you need a drink or three.

I wish I could walk away. From this suite, from watching over Daneandfrom my job. I’m too broke for that, though.

After closing my laptop, I take a paperback out of my bag and open it. Meeting Dane’s gaze across the room, I scratch my cheek with my middle finger, the same move he used on Arnold the day we met.

A smile tugs on his lips as he looks away.

He’s mostly gotten my nice, diplomatic side up until now. It’s time for Dane to meet unfiltered, zero-fucks-given Josie.

“And she heatsup leftover fish and broccoli in the office microwave at least once a week, which is actually worse than when she opens a can of sardines at her desk. Who does that?”

Lucas nods and gives me a sympathetic look. We’ve been at a bar for nearly an hour with other Mammoths players. Chicago won the game 4–1, and even though tomorrow morning we head out early for another road trip, lots of guys are drinking away their sorrows over the loss.

I’m three margaritas in, complaining to Lucas about Monica while watching Dane out of the corner of my eye and daring him to misbehave. He’s at the table next to mine with three teammates, several women swarming around them like flies on shit.

“I swear Dalton saves his shits for the team plane,” Lucas says. “He could go at his hotel, but he likes to take a big shit as soon as we get on the plane and then we all have to smell it for the whole flight.”

“Inconsiderate,” I say, shaking my head and sipping my drink. “Just like Monica. I spilled soup on my shirt at work once and she was like, ‘Oh, I’d let you borrow one I have in my office, but it’s too small for you.’ Like, why say that? Just say nothing.”

One of the women at Dane’s table cozies up to his side, trying to look casual as her body molds against his. He’s been nursing his drinks, only on his second beer of the night.

“Do you ever get time off?” Lucas asks me. “Days when you don’t have to keep track of Dane?”

“No.”

“Can you get someone to cover for you for an evening sometime?”

I scoff. “I’d love to, but there’s no one.”

“I could talk to him. See if he’d agree to stay in for an evening.”

Lucas doesn’t know Dane very well. He didn’t listen to his coach and team owner telling him to behave. Why would he listen to a teammate?

“Good luck with that,” I say. “He lies.”

“Well, how can I get you alone?” Lucas asks.

He leans in so close I can smell his soap and cologne. My head is swimming from the alcohol, but even with my judgment impaired, I know I can’t get involved with one of Dane’s teammates. I have to keep my focus on this assignment because I need that promotion. I have student loans to pay off, and somehow, I have to buy another car.

Dane is laughing, tipping his bottle of beer to his lips as he glances over at us. His happy expression fades, turning serious.

He sets the beer down and says something to the woman superglued to him. She moves away and he gets up, walking toward the bar’s front door.

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