Page 11 of Fall Wherever They May

“I can’t wait to meet the hockey team!” Tucker cuts in around a mouthful of pizza with sauce dribbling down his chin.

“Same.” River giggles.

“What’s your job, anyway?”

“Well, Buddy,” I hand him a napkin and continue. “I have a lot of jobs. My most important job is to make sure the players are taken care of.” He nods his head in understanding.

“I would like to take care of a few of those players.” River mumbles then laughs as I give her a pointed look.

“You are so full of it. I haven’t seen you look another guy's way in almost a year.”

“Yeah, well, I guess that goes with the territory when you’ve dealt with what I have, you know? Anyway, you are going to be amazing.” River stands up with her empty plate and ruffles my wet head.

Tucker nods his head. “Yeah, Mom, you’re going to be great.” He leaves to take his plate to the kitchen but stops to give me a kiss on the cheek on his way out.

When I was going to college, I had a goal in mind, and working with professional athletes was not one of them. I guess sometimes things just don’t end up going according to plan. Now, my career has catapulted on a whole other trajectory.

After we finish dinner and wash the dishes, I decide to wind down for some much-needed sleep so I can be refreshed for my new job tomorrow. I make sure Tucker is showered and settled into bed before I head to my room. Even after the conversation with my mom and the encounter with the asshole across the street, this day hasn’t been so bad.

Rounding my bed, I turn on my bedside lamp and fluff my pillows. I glance across the street to notice all the lights are off. I don’t know why I looked over there or what I was even looking for. I guess curiosity. God, he was such a jerk, but damn, was he a gorgeous one. The way his jeans fit over his thick thighs, and yes, I did notice his firm ass too. I sigh, lay down, and pick up the new romance novel I’m in the middle of reading.

I admit, I’m a smut slut, but I can’t help it. I like what I like. Brooding, sexy, possessive, and dominating male maincharacters who say things like, “You’re mine,” are my weakness. Thinking of brooding males has me thinking about Callan and the way my body reacted to him. It was the pheromones. That’s all it was. This is real life, and if I've learned anything in the past two years, it’s that broody and possessive men are usually psycho. Since dating hasn’t been in the cards for me since my teens, I just live vicariously through the female main characters while simultaneously wishing the ultimate book boyfriend did in fact exist.

I keep thinking of those hazel eyes. Ugh. Unable to focus on my book, I huff, turn off my lamp, and plop my head back on my pillow. I try to sleep, but my mind is racing, and I’m so nervous about tomorrow. What if I don’t make a good impression? What if they don’t like me? What if I do a horrible job or make a terrible mistake? All the “what ifs” boggle my mind. I toss and turn for hours, and the last thought before sleep finds me is that it doesn’t matter whether or not I think I can do this; what matters is I have to.

CHAPTER FOUR

Aspen

We arrive at the facility fifteen minutes till eight and are buzzed in at security. A black focal wall stands directly in front of us; the other walls are painted in a very light muted gray. Situated in the center of the reception area is a round platform, topped by a huge glass flame that’s lit up with a dim red light. The Blaze logo is on display. To the right, a screen taking up an entire wall is replaying highlight reels from previous seasons in high definition. Two black leather couches face each other. An unoccupied, neatly organized glass reception desk sits on the left. White floors, with very tiny sporadic sparkled flecks of red, black, and silver, tying everything together to give a high-end aesthetic.

A woman who appears to be in her mid-twenties, maybe even around my age, rounds the corner. Her auburn hair is in a tight, high ponytail. Light freckles decorate her alabaster skin, and a pair of kind brown eyes sit behind chic red glasses. A form-fitting pair of black slacks complements her curvy figure, and her black polo shirt with a red Blaze logo sits snug across her chest.

She smiles kindly at us in greeting, “Hello. I’m Hannah Jenkins.”

“Hi, Hannah, I’m Aspen Taylor, and this . . .” I place my hand on top of my son’s head. “. . . is Tucker, my son.”

She strolls over to shake my hand. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both. Are you ready for the grand tour?”

“Absolutely!” Tucker exclaims as he bounces on the balls of his feet in excitement. “I really hope I get to meet Carter Graham today; he’s my favorite.” He turns his attention to me, “Mom, you have to see him. His brawls are epic.”

“Oh. You’re a hockey fan?” She chuckles and looks at me.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Tucker nods emphatically as I say, “Not really,” at the same time while shaking my head.

Tucker recovers, “Actually, I watch hockey; Mom doesn’t.” His brows furrow. “Well, I guess she will now,” he shrugs.

“Oh, she will.” Hannah giggles. “We have a team meeting today, so all the guys will be here,” Hannah says to Tucker as we walk along the expansive hallway leading to the executive offices.

She turns to me and waves a hand toward the entry of an office, “You can just set your purse down in here if you want.”

Taking her up on the offer, I walk into the stranger’s office, tossing my purse onto the office chair before rejoining her in the hallway.

“Be prepared to have your mind blown. This place is unbelievable,” she says, smiling at me in excitement.

Hannah continues to lead us down the hallway.Floor-to-ceiling, metal action-shot portraits of players line the walls. We come to a stop and enter a game room that overlooks the ice rink; it has a glass window taking up the entire expanse of the wall. There are six gaming chairs, each with their own individual screens. An enormous, black leather sectional couch faces a cluster of small screens that form into one massive screen. Four different types of gaming consoles sit on a shelf to the rightside of the screens. Arcade games line a wall behind the couch and are stationed right next to a beverage and snack bar. An air hockey table resides on the far side of the room with a pool table next to it. She wasn’t wrong; I’m already mind blown.

“Whooooaaaa,” Tucker says with his eyes wide. “This is sick!”

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