Page 2 of Penalties and Proposals

“Sorry!” Howard calls out from the front. Peering through the glass, which is thankfully one-way so I can see over his shoulder but he can’t see me, I spot a crowd of fans crossing the street wearing Dan Roberts’ jerseys and chanting. I’ve met Dan in the past—he’s a player from the Chicago Blizzards and is super nice.

“Local guy in the game,” Howard mansplains to me, assuming I don’t know hockey, I guess. Or, he’s simply beingnice and I’m being a hardened city girl. It’s up for debate. “The residents around here are die-hard fans.”

“All good, Howard. Thanks.” Smiling to myself, I flick my mother onto the speakerphone as I pull my camera up to my eye and roll down the window. The cold Washington air hits my skin, waking me up. I’m patting myself on the back for being smart enough to have pulled my camera out and gotten it ready to snap no matter what. You can always get the best casual surprise shots when you least expect it, like now. “Hey, do you mind driving a little slower? I want to snap a few pictures.”

“Are you talking to me?” My mother’s voice sounds like she’s calling from inside a tin can as it reverberates around me in the enclosed space.

“No,” I mumble, putting the viewfinder to my eye and zeroing in on the crowd.Click, click, click.I look at the screen, pleased with the vibe I’m catching. It’s a great time of day, close to golden hour. That’s the time we photographers like to use natural light as the source for our photos. “I’m talking to Howard.”

“Who is that?”

“Never mind, Ma.” I giggle, putting the camera down and picking the phone back up. My gaze is focused on taking in the small town as we coast through it. Cute. Quaint. It’s got what I can only describe as yummy autumn vibes. Pumpkin spice and everything nice and all that Hallmark jazz. I feel like I’ve been chucked into the middle of theGilmore Girlsset, right into Stars Hollow, and I kinda like it. I’m a fan of that show from way back. “Look, I should go. We’re almost there. How about I call when I get settled in?”

“I love you, sweetie,” she says.

“Ditto.”

Disconnecting the call, I turn back toward the window to sightsee, and my thoughts take a mind of their own, dipping back to Noah.

Noah Beaumont wastheplayer three years ago. He was ontop of the world and the man who ruled the game. Dated celebrities, appeared on the covers of gossip mags, and I’m pretty sure he graced plenty of posters hung on the walls of teenage boys and girls alike. Girls and women loved him, the guys wanted to hang with him. Rugged and handsome … and the day I met him, he was drunk. Too drunk to do his job, and after finding out he couldn’t stand up, well, I made the call to boot him off my set. Sadly, the publication I worked for at the time, as well as Noah’s publicist, had other ideas.

Another shiver snakes its way down my spine at that thought. That event had its downside, but also there was an upside, too. After security was called and I was kicked off my own set and lost my contract, you can bet I learned to stand up for myself. You can come at me all you want, but I don’t have to take it and I know I don’t. I got an agent, I honed my skills, and I got stronger.

Glancing down at my right wrist, I turn my arm over, tracing the tattoo of the word “Believe” in a cursive script. In actuality, I’ve had this tattoo since I was just out of high school and only dreamed of being a working photographer. I’d gotten it so I would always stop and remember that no matter what, I have a goal and it counts.

Tapping it, I smile. I’ve learned that if I can believe in anything or anyone, it’s gonna be me. And only me. And that’s all right. That year was a hard one, and not just because of Noah. It was the year everything changed … but I’m different now. The girl with the big black-rimmed glasses and short bleached-blonde hair is gone. I mean, I’ve got contacts now and I let my hair grow and it’s my natural color, brunette, which my hair stylist calls warm cocoa. So same same, just different.

“We’re here,” Howard calls out as he slows to a stop in front of the stately hotel. He’s out of the car and opening the back of the SUV, pulling out my bags before I can crawl out of the back seat.

“Welcome to your home away from home for the next fewweeks,” he sings out as he opens my door. “There should be signs once you get inside as to where you need to go.”

“Thanks, Howard. I appreciate the ride.”

“It’s my job, ma’am,” he says with a bow and grin. “Now, how about I give the concierge your bags to take to the counter so you can book it to the media event.”

“Again, thank you,” I say, smiling his way as I rush through the hotel entrance and head inside. There can only be so many places inside this hotel where a bunch of ridiculously huge men are stuffed into a room with the press, right?

Sure enough, signs point their way, sending me down a small hall to the room where the media event is in full swing. Reporters are taking turns standing up and asking questions while the coach, Doug Strickland, and the assistant coach, Scotty MacFarland—who I recognize from his time playing for the Denver Peaks—sit at a table at the front fielding them. The players of the newly organized Maple Falls Ice Breakers are dressed to the nines in their crisp suits and are all crowded around the men. The majority of these guys are like giants––the large banner, which is called a ‘step and repeat’ in the world of public relations, that’s been set up behind them is meant to show off the logos for all the sponsors of the charity event. Yet, it can barely be seen.

“Excuse me,” I whisper as I slide past a few folks standing in a cluster at the back door, watching on. I’m in at the perfect time; I only need to start snapping pics, so I do. Stealthily, I move around the room, taking pics of Doug and Scotty as they put their heads together and chat. The fans will love that one. A reporter a few rows ahead of me stands, and there’s a great angle behind him to snap over his shoulder and get Zach Hart, the man, the myth, the billionaire in frame so we can introduce him and his generosity to our audience. Without his drive to do this, it wouldn’t be happening.

I keep the viewfinder pressed to my eye, scanning the group of players. Not gonna lie, they are a good-looking group, but I’mno fool. I stay in a separate hotel from the team for a reason, something I’ve requested to be written into my contract. I know for a fact these guys are all at a lodge on the outskirts of town, which is why I asked to be housed here at The Regent’s for the duration of the event. It’s bougie, but well … I’ve worked hard to be able to ask for what I want, so I do.

I’m still scanning when I pass the face of someone who strikes a chord that goes pang inside of me. It’s not a good pang. It’s a nauseating kind of pang. Slowly, I pan my camera along the line of players and put the familiar face in my sights once more. My stomach hitches as my heart has its own jump scare.

No.

I close my eyes and shake my head. Surely, not. He can’t be here. I press my camera back to my eye and pray I’m seeing things. But I’m not. I know that chiseled jaw, that glare. There’s a way he holds himself that reminds me of royalty, even when he was hammered. Like he’s God’s gift.

I’m still coming to terms with the fact that my past is here to haunt me, when Noah Beaumont turns and looks straight down the camera lens and directly into my eyes … slicing right into my soul.

CHAPTER 2

WILLA

As soon asthe lights come up, I’m out of the event, reacting like a cat who goes to jump on a wood stove on the first day of autumn. When I was little we had a cat, Nugget, who loved the coolness of the wood stove in the off-season. She’d lounge on it all summer long, enjoying the relief its cold iron brought her.

Inevitably, when fall came, we’d fire up the stove to warm our living room and that poor cat would come trotting in and head right for her spot. There was usually a moment when she’d be leaping through the air when you’d witness the look on her kitty cat face as it twisted in fear, and her body angled and writhed in the air, feeling the heat as she was about to land.

---