Page 95 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
“Okay. Send me the flight details. I’ll speak to Dad.”
“You got it. Eee, I’m so excited.”
She hangs up, leaving me buzzing.
Watching the game on the TV is great and all, but it’s nothing like being there in the flesh.
Parker and I have been to a Utah game before. Their fans are wild. It’s going to be a good night. And if Dad can get us into the team hotel, then…
I refuse to think too much about what comes at the end of that sentence.
All I know is that I need to see Kodie again.
Confident that Dad will already be up working on his plan of attack before their flight this afternoon, I hit call on his contact and see if I can make magic happen.
“This is the best idea you’ve ever had,” I tell Parker as we step off the plane the next afternoon.
It doesn’t matter that it’s raining. Nothing could dampen my spirits right now.
The second I told Dad that we were coming, he promised to secure us a room and tickets to the game.
He also said that he’d send a car to collect us from the airport.
Of course, we’re more than capable of doing that ourselves, but I appreciate the shit out of him trying to take care of me.
“Well, I don’t like to brag, but…”
We’re already three cocktails in, and I feel amazing about this little impromptu trip.
I’d been feeling a little off as this week went on. I haven’t heard anything about the assistant coaching job, and I’m gettingantsy. Even a rejection at this point would be better than nothing.
I may still not believe I’ve got the skills they’ll be looking for, but the more I think about those two girls' teams I watched on Sunday, the more I want it.
Hell, I more than want it.
We climb into the back of the car and chat away as we’re escorted to the hotel.
Dad and the team are already at the arena, getting ready, but I message him to let him know we’ve landed safely and that we’ll see him later.
After checking in, we drag our luggage to the elevator and head toward our room.
I don’t know what floor the team is staying on, but secretly, I pray that we’re on the same one.
Images of sneaking out of our room and into another in the middle of the night flicker through my head.
Parker whistles appreciatively as we step inside our room.
“Daddy Watson did us good,” she praises as she looks around.
I groan. “Please don’t call him that,” I mutter as I follow her inside.
She isn’t wrong; the room is sweet, and it has an even better view of the city.
Parker chuckles wickedly.
“Let’s get ready, get food and more drinks, and then head to the arena,” she says before pulling her cell from her purse and reading a message.
A frown pulls at her brow.
