Page 27 of Just One Season
My traitorous teammates leave me alone in the locker room to question why I’m friends with them.
I don’t have time to find a real girlfriend. Or a fake one. Were they really serious about that? And I don’t want to have some random woman who I can’t trust all up in my family’s business.
If only there was someone convenient, who I could trust, who would have a reason to go along with?—
I let out a chuckle as the best-slash-worst idea occurs to me.
Lucy.
I could fake date Lucy Knox.
It’s kind of perfect.
I can trust her because she’s Atticus’s sister. We can say we got to know each other over media training. And it’ll be easy to show Paul and Savannah the relationship as we’re all often in close proximity.
And the best part? She has a reason to do it as well.
Maybe she wants Paul to report to her father—and therefore her ex—that she’s getting cozy with a star Blizzard player.
Are there red flags here? Maybe one or ten.
But I can’t deny that the idea of getting to know that woman—even under ridiculous pretenses—is appealing.
She can help me convince Paul I’m harmless when it comes to his wife. Help me keep my spot on the Blizzard.
I can help her piss off her father and her ex.
A grin crosses my face as I pull the first door out of the locker room, then push the second one into the hallway.
I have one more stop before I head home for the day.
CHAPTER 9
What Just Happened?
LUCY
Dad/Richard/Asshole
Hello, darling. I heard you met Paul Harrison. If you need anything, go talk to him.
Idon’t respond. There are more little dots as my father continues to type, and my blood pressure continues to rise.
Dad/Richard/Asshole
I know you have to do this thing. This little adventure working in Colorado.
Dad/Richard/Asshole
I want you to know your job is still here. It’s where you belong. You know you can’t do this on your own. I can help you. I will always help you. You know that.
I look up from the texts, attempting to unclench my jaw. He’s still typing, but nothing good is going to pop up on my phone. Just more of the same nonsense.
Two pairs of footsteps echo from outside my open office door.
Of course he thinks I need him tosucceed.
He’s right. I’ve never done it without him. He thinks women need a man to define themselves, and if I ever attempt to reason with him, his eyes glaze over and he stops engaging. Some men in his generation are impossible to reason with. They always think they’re right.
