Page 28 of Playmaker

“One thing.” Her smile left and her voice was serious.

What was she going to freak out over?

“I pay for the dress for the wedding, and any more clothes.”

She looked good, totally right at the moment, wearing the clothes I’d picked out while she laid down her ultimatum. I couldn’t let her wear something like that green monstrosity she’d worn to the dinner. “Only if I choose the clothes.”

She was frowning again.

“Clothes matter. Here at the club and with my family. Remember, they’re like Benson.”

“You choose, I pay?”

I could live with that. She was a tax attorney, for fuck’s sake, at a big firm. She had to have money. “I choose, you pay.”

She finally held out her hand and we shook. Her palms were smooth, the hands of someone who didn’t use them hard. Mine were callused. But she didn’t flinch, didn’t comment.

“So, when exactly is this wedding?”

“The end of August.”

Her hand jerked, and I knew she wanted to get her phone out to mark it in her calendar.

“I’ll send you the details.”

She nodded, but there was still a little frown between her brows. I wished there was some way to make Callie understand that by the end of this arrangement, I’d be owing her. The money I’d earned playing hockey, the endorsements, my condo and cars and investments—it wasn’t enough to impress my family. Having someone like Callie with me would make a bigger impact than any amount of cash.

But something of what I felt must have gotten through because she finally relaxed. Not totally. Whenever she realized she’d started slouching she jolted upright like she’d been prodded, and she kept fidgeting in her chair as she started and stopped crossing her legs.

Our meals arrived, and our water glasses were topped up. Callie refused another drink or a glass of wine and I did as well. I was driving.

She watched as I started to eat, then mimicked me, cutting into her chicken with the correct cutlery. “So, you pay an amount every month for food, even if you don’t use the restaurant.”

I nodded. Typical for a country club.

“And a portion of your dues goes for meals and entertainment, even though the expense may not be for a meal.”

“Are you planning to rearrange the billing system here?”

Her cheeks pinked. “It’s a hazard of the job. Meals and entertainment have a personal benefit to them, so theoretically, if you’re claiming a membership here as a business expense, you’d only be able to claim half of those costs. But if you don’t actually pay for food, should you be able to claim the whole amount?”

My steak was good. Callie didn’t seem to be tasting her food, her mind busy on this problem.

“I can’t help you there, but you could talk to my accountant if you want and see how he handles it?”

She set a forkful of rice back on her plate. “Who does your work?” I told her. She nodded. “They’re good.”

I’d asked around before I’d hired them, but it was nice to get confirmation from someone who knew.

Callie continued to pepper me with questions between checking out what everyone was doing. She must have trusted me with any protocol issues, because her questions tended toward the organization and management of the club. Things I had no knowledge of. My ignorance made her more confident, which was all to the good. I didn’t care about those things.

I signed for the meal, ignoring her frown, and we walked out into a beautiful afternoon to get my car from the valet.

The ride back to Toronto was a lot better. Callie, when she’d loosened up, was an entertaining companion. She knew nothing about sports. I asked how she was going to handle that in her partnership campaign. The firm she was working for was very involved with the local sports clubs. The partners were big fans and participated in a lot of the team charity events.

She smirked. “That’s easy.”

“Really? If a partner or client is a big fan of baseball or basketball or hockey, you’re just going to say you don’t care and hope it doesn’t bother them?”

---