Page 48 of Wild Love
“You wish.”
“Hell yeah, I do. You’ve got great tits. Are they fake?”
I’d like to toss a pillow at him, but don’t because he’s injured. “What’s the idea, and why are you back in my apartment?”
“I was thinking… maybe you could move in with me?”
My brows lift, and he continues. “Hear me out. I have a two-bedroom, and we’re obviously going to be hanging out most nights anyway.”
“Obviously,” I parrot.
“Would you rather live with me or some stranger?”
I laugh, and his smile gets bigger.
“It’ll be fun. Come on, just give it a chance. We can do a trial run today.” He hops to the couch and sits.
“I thought you wanted me to move in with you? My place is a one-bedroom.”
“I do, but if I hang here today, it’ll be easier to take Charli out. That elevator is slow as fuck, and the stairs are not my friend right now. Plus, I can rummage through your panty drawer.”
“Oh my god, perv. Stay out of my room.”
“Kidding.” His smile falls. “But in all seriousness, my knee is screaming this morning.”
“You can stay as long as you want.” I point toward the couch. “In the living room only. And I will think about the rest.”
“Thanks. This is going to be great, roomie.”
* * *
I spendthe morning working with Reese, looking through approved photos to go with the content he and Quinn created yesterday. Then we mockup all the posts for Blythe to approve.
“So, Arizona, I heard Maverick got injured.”
“You did?”
“It was in the sports section this morning. MCL sprain.”
“That’s right.”
“Sucks. Right before camp is not a good time to be getting injured.” He lifts his brows.
“He should be fine in a week or two. He’s tough.”
Reese leans back in his chair, pen lifted in his hand. He clicks it as he says, “Yeah, but by then they may have already decided to send him to Iowa.”
“Really? Just like that?” Three days ago, everyone was talking about how he was the future of the Wildcats, and now they’re ready to cast him aside? I knew it was important that he get treated and back on his feet quickly, but I had no idea they’d write him off so fast. Brutal.
After lunch, I review the endorsement contract more closely. The deliverables are outlined, but otherwise, it’s vague. They want photographs of Johnny with some of the products for the launch, and they even provided examples from some of their print and online ads. There are a lot of smiling women putting lotion on their hands, others with shiny, just styled hair. It’s a little stiff and boring, if I’m honest.
But whoever designed the new line for men did so with a new, younger vibe. The names of the products themselves are fun, and the colors and bottles are more modern. Johnny is the perfect person to endorse it, despite his reservations, which I totally understand. I can’t imagine what it’s like to feel as if your parents care more about their company than you.
For the rest of the day, I think of nothing else. I take everything I know about my friend and build a campaign that puts him and his personality front and center. Maybe the endorsement has no merit on whether the Wildcats keep him or send him down to the AHL team, but I work like it might be the difference.
Before I leave, I email Blythe my rough concept and then stop by her office on my way out.
“Come in,” she says. Her feet are kicked up on her desk, and instrumental music plays quietly. She brings her feet to the floor and sits upright. “I was just looking over your ideas. They’re good. Really good.”
