Page 47 of Romancing the Grump
Parker is the first one off the bus so she can position herself to get some video. She stops at our row and gives us a hopeful thumbs up, then she’s gone, the rest of the team filing off after her. Summer and I stay in our seats until we’re the only ones left, then she stands and holds out her hand.
“Ready?”
I’mnotready, but this at least feels easier with her beside me.
Summer stays beside me until we reach the edge of the crowd. I like the feel of her hand in mine, the way it seems to fit so perfectly, and I’d rather she stay right where she is, but I’ll need both hands to sign, and I don’t want her to deal with any more chaos than absolutely necessary.
I slip my arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t you head over and stand with Malik?” I suggest.
She nods, then pushes up onto her toes and kisses me on the cheek. I can still feel the heat of her kiss as I approach the crowd, their cheers growing louder and louder the closer I get. I quickly get swept into the mayhem, signing team posters, rosters, hats, giant foam fingers, and whatever else people have brought.
There are definitely more people here than usual, and I’m hearing my name twice as frequently, which is both disconcerting and overwhelming.
All this because of a few random photos.
Speaking of photos, in my periphery, I see several women holding giant posters. One is a blown-up copy of the penalty box picture Parker posted early last week. Another reads, “Look out world. I’m ready to #TameTheBroodingBeast.”
It’s almost enough to make me turn on my heel and head straight inside, but then I spot a couple of kids in Appies jerseys, holding a poster with my name and number on it. They’re right beside the women, and they’ve already spotted me, so it feels rude not to acknowledge them in some way.
“Hey, guys. You hockey players?” I ask as I stop to sign their poster.
They both nod. “Defenders like you,” the taller kid says. They ask for a picture, and I agree. By the time we’re finished, the two women with the posters have stepped closer, leaning across the security barrier as they nudge the kids out of the way.
They’re young, probably in their twenties, and the matching looks on their faces immediately make me uncomfortable. “Can you sign my shirt for me?” one of them asks.
My eyes drop to her shirt only to see my face printed on the front. I thought Van was kidding when he said this was happening to him. I guess not.
“How about I sign the back?” I say, and the woman licks her lips.
“Honey, you can sign wherever you want.”
I ignore her comment and motion for her to turn around. I pick a spot high on her shoulder, touching as little of her as possible as I scribble my name. I’m close to the barrier now, and the two women have turned into a dozen, closing in on me on all sides. I sign shirts, hats, posters, and so many pictures of me, my stress level creeping higher and higher the whole time.
“I betIcould make you smile,” one woman says as I sign an Appies team roster for her. As I hand it back, she lunges over the barrier and grabs my arm, tugging me down and kissing me on the cheek.
I immediately shrug away, but as soon as she lets go, someone else grabs me from the other side. “Let me try to tame the beast,” she says, her tone suggestive.
My blood runs cold, then hot. My first impulse is to punch someone, to fight my way out, but in a crowd full of women, I can’t exactly take the same liberties I do on the ice.
“Can we have some respect, please?” A familiar andverycommanding voice says from behind me. “Hands off.”
Summer appears beside me, looping her arm through mine and tugging me backward, away from the crowd. A security guard moves in, urging the women to take a step away from the barrier, and I finally take a deep breath.
“You okay?” Summer says, tucking herself against myside. She slips an arm around my waist, under my suit jacket, and I’m immediately struck by how good it feels to have her touching me, a sharp contrast to how uncomfortable I was moments before. “Just focus on me for a sec,” she says, holding my gaze. “Breathe.”
I nod and do as she asks, grateful for the anchor she’s providing.
“Oh my gosh. Is that his girlfriend?” someone in the crowd asks.
“She’s so pretty!” another woman says.
Summer’s lips lift into a small smile. “Hey, look. We’re doing it. We’re looking like a couple.”
I huff out a little laugh. “That crowd was vicious. I’m not sure this is enough.”
She shrugs. “Then kiss me.”
“What?”
