Page 4 of Rainbow Kisses

“Now open it and make sure there are no penises on the proof.”

There was the laugh I wanted to hear.

“You’re right. No penises. But… Wait, are these shirts pink? And do those bats have heart bodies?”

“Yes, they are and yes, they do. Do you like them?”

I’d designed them myself, and I thought they were some of my best work so far. But they weren’t our normal style. They were a little softer, a little less in your face than our normal logo. Since Dad had given me carte blanche to design the specialty sweaters when I’d come to work for the team, I’d stuck to the tried-and-true variations of the grinning devil’s face that was our regular logo.

This year, I’d wanted to do something different.

“Rain, these are too good to be on hockey sweaters. You totally missed your calling. You should’ve been an illustrator.”

My lips curved in a happy grin. “Thanks, Fred. I’m glad you like them.”

“I love them. Seriously, these are quality. I’ll try not to screw them up.”

“Stop it. You’re not going to screw them up. I have faith in you. Hey, I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got a meeting with Rowdy and Dad, and I need to make another call before then. Text me, and we’ll make a date for lunch after Christmas.”

“I would love that, Rain. And thanks.”

“No problem. I’m here. Whatever you need. Just ask.”

I hung up, making a note to follow up on the proofs in a couple of days. And to make sure Fred didn’t need anything. If she did, she knew she could count on me.

Dad needed me? Be right there. Mom needed me? I’m on my way. My brothers? Hell, even they knew if they called, I’d drop what I was doing and be at their side. Friends needed a shoulder to cry on or a bridesmaid to stand up for them? I stock tissues and ice cream in bulk and I’m always up for buying a new dress.

But lately, some of those friends had begun to suggest there was a correlation between my lack of a significant other and my good friend status. Like, maybe I used friendship to avoid relationships.

Well, what was wrong with that? Considering how my last relationship had ended, who could blame me? I wasn’t eager to jump back into the dating pool. I didn’t need a man to make my life complete. So there.

Sticking out my tongue at no one in particular, I grabbed my planner to see what was next on the to-do list, even though I knew damn well what it was. I’d been avoiding this for a week, but now I absolutely had to get this done.

Picking up my phone, I pulled up my contacts and found the one I needed.

After the third ring, I thought I was home free, but then it connected, and a gruff voice said, “Lawrence. What can I do for you? I’ve only got a couple minutes before I have to leave.”

Gritting my teeth, I took a breath before speaking, because my smart-ass tongue had gotten me in trouble many times before, and I just didn’t have time to deal with this asshole the way I wanted to right now.

“Wyeth.” I made sure my tone was friendly, with just the right amount of fuck-you. “I’m calling about the sweaters for the March home-and-home games. I plan to send over the designs later this week?—”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. I’m good with whatever you come up with.”

My mouth dropped open, but I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. Usually Wyeth, who owned the Bentonville Badgers, had to stick his two cents into everything. Didn’t matter if it was as simple as changing one word in a slogan or wanting a complete design overhauled a day before it was due to the printer.

Then he continued. “Just send them to me when they’re done. We’ll talk then. Have to go.”

And he hung up. Leaving me rubbing my temples at the tiny hammer that had started to beat there.

In my mind, a mental picture of Harry Wyeth formed, and it wasn’t flattering. If I didn’t know the man well, I’d think he was handsome. Sandy blond hair, blue eyes, and a stocky build. A carbon copy of his dad. But his smile tended toward mean, and his eyes were arctic blue, cold and calculating.

Harry had always reminded me of a sleazy salesman who wanted to sell me something I didn’t need and wasn’t going to leave until I bought it. We’d had a lot of dealings together over the past three years, since we’d occupied basically the same position for our dads’ companies. We’d been able to worktogether without too much friction, but when he’d taken over all hockey operations after his dad’s death a year ago, his true nature had come out.

His dad had been old-school but never condescending. Harold Wyeth had struggled with having women in hockey, except as cheerleaders, of course. But at least he’d been respectful. Harry, however, had inherited all his dad’s bad qualities and none of the good. Which made every interaction with him something I dreaded.

Not that I couldn’t handle him. I could. I just really, really, really didn’t want anything to do with him. But if the damn man didn’t stop hanging up on me every time I called, like I was one of his damn lackeys, he was going to learn the hard way that I was not all sunshine and light, like my name might imply. After dealing with me on a bad day, some people (namely my brothers) had suggested I change my name to another natural phenomenon: Lightning. All jagged edges and a flash of angry growl.

Sometimes it was good to know they feared me, but I never doubted their love. Not my brothers’ or my parents’. But anyone else, besides my closest friends… Yeah, I had a real hard time believing a word out of their mouths. It made for rocky relationships. But could you blame me? I mean, my last relationship had been a total bust, but that was mostly my fault for dating a hockey player. Again. Obviously, I hadn’t learned from the first disaster.

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