Page 5 of Rookie Move

Yes, she had a job that her father helped her get. Yes, she was living in the guesthouse on her father’s property. And yes, most twenty-two-year-olds didn’t immediately get marketing assistant jobs for high-level sports teams.

But she was good at thinking outside of the box, a key element to successful marketing and PR campaigns. She’d interned with an AHL team in marketing while she was finishing college. But with the last name Malone, she still had a lot to prove to this organization, and distractions were not welcome.

Especially distractions with soft brown hair, glorious abs, warm chocolate eyes, and a lethal light brogue.

She followed Brenda into her office, determined to not think about that man again.

“Have a seat,” Brenda said as she sat down behind her desk and gestured toward the empty chairs in front of Rylie. “We’re always open to new ideas, so what do you have?”

“Have you ever considered getting a dog?” Rylie asked, flipping open her notebook.

“A dog?”

“Yes. I’ve been following social media for the other teams and several of them have dogs. The teams help socialize the puppies while an experienced handler trains them to be service dogs for special needs kids or veterans. The teams pair up with charitable organizations, and who doesn’t want to see hockey players playing with a puppy?”

Brenda chuckled. “Very valid points. So how much research have you done? Logistics? How would we pick what organization to work with?”

“I was thinking we could work with special needs kids. Alex Westbrook has his Westie’s Warriors, and I know the guys do a lot of hospital visits, so maybe we could tie it in with that. We can let the fans pick the pup’s name to get them involved.”

“I like this idea. Can you get me more details? How long would the puppy be with us for socialization? Who can the puppy live with? Does it have to be with a specific trainer or someone in the front office here?”

Rylie tamped down her excitement as she jotted down Brenda’s questions. Her new boss liked her first suggestion. That was a great sign, she hoped. Not that she had a ton of other ideas, but she wanted to show them she was more than her last name.

“Circle back with me and we’ll run it by the team owners, but I think it’s a great idea and a great cause if we can make it work,” Brenda said with a smile. “What else do you have?”

“Well, that was the main one. But I’ll get your questions answered and do some more research on my other ideas. I really want to be able to help out.”

“Look, Rylie, can I be honest?”

“Of course,” Rylie said, pushing down the nerves that just flared to life in her belly.

“I know that people are going to look at you as Bugsy’s daughter, thinking you were handed the job, but I would’ve fought against hiring you if you’d had zero experience with marketing and if you hadn’t interned with another sports team. Let your work speak for itself,” Brenda said.

Rylie sighed in relief. “Thanks you, Brenda. I want to be an asset, and not just a Malone.”

“Well, you’re looking good so far. Now keep it up,” she said.

“I’ll get back to you on those questions ASAP. Let me know if I can help on any existing campaigns as well.”

“Don’t worry. We will. Also, make sure you’re following all the guys on social media, and if you see any red flags, let me know. I’ll email you a list with all their handles.”

“On it,” Rylie said, standing from her chair.

“I have to get on a call, but let me know if you have any questions. We’re happy you’ve joined our team,” Brenda said. Her smile was genuine, and Rylie was happy she’d taken the job her father had played a role in getting for her.

***

A few hourslater, Rylie finally headed home. She’d gotten some of the answers she needed and had follow-up calls tomorrow. Then she’d spent the rest of the afternoon stalking social media—for her job, of course.

She would not think about the pictures she found of Desmond grinning massively, with his arm around a stunning blonde from last month. The woman had been in most of the photos until a few weeks ago; then she was gone. Which led her to more stalking—investigating—before she’d clicked out of all the webpages, because what the hell was she doing anyway?

Ugh. Stop.

Thinking about Desmond would get her nowhere and it didn’t matter anymore. One and done and moving on.

She pushed open the guesthouse door and kicked off her heels, flexing her tired feet. Her phone dinged and she swiped it on.

Dad:Dinner will be here in five. You coming over? I want to hear about your day.

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