Page 67 of Pucking the Team
“No, she’s married to one of the Viper players. I was at the rink, and we got chatting.”
“Mmm. Go on…”
“She’s launching a clothing range. She was planning on modelling the range herself but she’s six months pregnant. She asked if I’d help out.”
“Nice gig, but one big question…has she got the budget for you?”
“I’ll do it at whatever she wants to offer, or for free if necessary. Half the profits go to charity, a children’s charity. I’m more than happy to give up time for that and put my face to it.”
He was quiet for a moment, his business mind ticking over. “And where is the shoot?”
“Here in Orlando, very soon by the sound of it, so it’s not out of my way at all, I’m here and have free days.”
“Okay…and are you sure you want to do it?”
“Yes, I liked her, a lot, and it sounds fun. And as I said, it’s charitable, good karma and all that.”
“And boy do you need fun and good karma in your life after what Steven and Cheryl have done…though to be honest, this Eduardo sounds like fun.”
I didn’t want to mention that Eduardo was one of a set of four hockey players who were all fun and distracting. “So you’ll contact her people, yeah?”
“Of course, and I’ll be in touch with the deets. But you go now and have a nice evening, forget about all your worries, Uncle Trevor is here to sort it out.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it. Love you.”
“Love you, too, sweet pea.”
Chapter Sixteen
The tension in the kitchen had diffused somewhat when I walked back in. A hockey game was playing in the living room, the sounds of the crowd and commentator spilling through despite no one actually watching it.
There were beers on the go, and Ben was carefully chopping onions, though it didn’t seem like it was something he did often. Theo was sitting beside Eduardo, and they were both engrossed in something on his phone.
Dylan was by the fridge pulling the cork out of a bottle of white wine. He looked up at me. “Here, I’m just pouring.”
“Thanks.” I walked over to him and reached a glass from the cupboard.
“Pip,” he said, his gruff voice seeming hoarser than usual.
“Yes?”
He pursed his lips and poured, the liquid making a gentle glugging sound.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, okay, for earlier, for being a douchebag.”
“Why were you a douchebag?”
He set the wine aside and gently pulled me to him, his arms around my waist. An intimate gesture that I liked…a lot.
“It must have seemed like I was angry at you,” he said, “I wasn’t, I was angry at your privacy being invaded when I know you hate that.”
“I know, I knew it then and I know it now. We’re all the same, we all like to live under the radar, but occasionally we get dragged above it.” I set my hands over his collarbones. “I didn’t think you were being a douchebag.”
“Did you speak to your agent?” He tenderly brushed a lock of hair over my shoulder.
“I did.” I smiled. “And he’s on the case, told me not to worry.”
