Page 7 of Romancing the Grump
“Okay, children,” Parker says. “That’s enough.” She retrieves her pen from Tucker, then looks at me. “Nathan. I need you for two minutes at the end of practice today for a broody photo of you inside the penalty box.”
“Aww, you’re capturing him in his natural habitat,” Alec says, elbowing me, and I elbow him right back.
“I’m serious though, Nathan,” Parker teases. “No smiling this time. Don’t make me ask you twice.”
At the beginning of the season, Parker started a trend talking about all the different places I can lookbrooding,hence her request for the penalty box photo. I didn’t know what she meant the first time she explained it to me, but basically, I just sit wherever she tells me, look off into the distance, and frown. She’s taken videos of me on the ice, sitting in the stands, leaning against my car, holding a puppy Eli’s wife, Bailey, brought over from the animal shelter. Over Christmas, when a group of us all headed into the mountains to hike Mt. Pisgah, she even made me stop so she could record a few seconds of me gazing into the trees, the smoky blues and greens of the Blue Ridge Mountains extending into the distance behind me. It’s stupid, and I don’t know why people care or want pictures of me frowning at stuff, but if it means no dancing in videos—I’m fine with it.
I nod, my eyes darting over to Summer to see if she’s watching this whole exchange.
She’s watching all right, and the realization sends a low buzz of energy shooting across my skin.
“Fair warning, Nathan,” Parker adds. “I’m also noticing some trending patterns around the hashtag #TameTheBroodingBeast, so you might notice some increased activity from your female fans.”
Several of the guys start to laugh, reaching up and punching my shoulders.
“What does that even mean?” I ask through a frown. “What kind of activity?”
“It’s just a trend I’m seeing,” Parker says. “And nothing you truly need to worry about. Just be on your guard when you’re interacting with fans because they might be a little overzealous. And definitely let me know if it starts to feel like too much.”
I nod and slouch into my chair. I understand the value ofwhat Parker has brought to the Appies, but I don’t love the idea of women talking about me like I’m some kind of challenge. I don’t love the idea of women talking about meat all.
Parker moves on to a series of videos she’s doing with the rookies, something involving a dance, and…did she just say they would be dressed up like fruit?
I chuckle and shake my head. Malik and Coach Davis have pretty much given Parker free rein to do whatever she needs to keep the team’s presence growing, and we’ve been instructed to do the same.
If she wants us to learn a dance and perform it on the ice? We’d better say yes.
If she wants us to do it while wearing pink tights and fluffy tutus?
We will hate it.
We will also say yes.
Parker has hinted a few times that I could create my own social media accounts and take advantage of the momentum, but it’s not a requirement, and I can’t think of anything I would rather do less.
Besides wear a tutu.
“Okay, next up,” Malik says once Parker finishes. “Alec and Nathan. There’s a new athleisure clothing company called Flex that’s looking for an endorsement. They’ve requested the two of you specifically. The company checks out, so if you’re interested, Summer will be traveling to Chicago with the team at the end of this month. The three of you will stay in the city an extra night after your game on Thursday, and she’ll accompany you to the meeting on Friday morning, then you’ll fly out that afternoon and catch up with the team in Cleveland in time for Saturday’s afternoon game.”
I force myself to nod in agreement like this isn’t a bigdeal. Technically, it’s not. Stuff like this happens all the time, and there’s always a team representative with us, especially for those of us who don’t have agents.
But this feels like a big deal anyway. An hour ago, I wasn’t even sure I would see Summer again. Now she’s here, living a mile down the road, working at the Summit, negotiating on my behalf in brand meetings.
“Is that a problem for either of you?” Malik asks. “If not, we’ll get your travel plans sorted and emailed over.”
“Sounds good,” I say as Alec mumbles something similar. I keep my eyes on Malik, but I sense Summer looking at me, and I wonder what she’s thinking.
Normally, I only tolerate brand meetings because the extra cash is nice and the exposure is good for the Appies. It’s part of the job—part of doing what I have to do so I can play hockey and get paid to do it.
But knowing Summer will be there adds a new layer. I’m not quite looking forward to it, but I am possibly less annoyed that I have to go in the first place.
Which bugs me. Why am I reacting to this woman?
I don’t date. I’m notlookingto date. And a pretty face doesn’t change that.
My schedule during the season is terrible. I spend three out of every five weeks on the road, and I spend ninety percent of my waking hours either playing hockey or thinking about hockey—or wishing I was either playing or thinking about hockey.
I can appreciate my teammates who have, miraculously, managed to form relationships despite said schedule. But it just wouldn’t fit in the life I’ve built for myself.
