Page 16 of Yo Ho Ho
"I really liked those mint chocolate chip ones."
"You made him the mint chocolate chip cookies?"
Max's editor gave her an innocent shrug in response. She could tell Amanda felt no remorse for sharing her best cookies with people who didn't work in the newsroom with her.
"Of course, she did. I'm the best!"
"No, you're not," Max mumbled.
Of course, that was a lie.You know he was the best you ever had, she thought.
Logan pushed himself off her desk. "I'm heading out then. Max, I'll see you at the arena tomorrow and we can iron out details."
Max nodded. "Sounds good."
Amanda stood up and opened her arms to him. "Just a hug until I see you again, whenever that will be."
Logan smiled, his large muscular arms engulfing the petite editor. "Hopefully not too long," he said. "Seriously, let me know if you ever want tickets for a game."
He pulled away and Amanda gave him a sad smile. "I can't take gifts from hockey players."
Logan gave her a giddy look. "For another three weeks," he said. "Then no more stupid newspaper rules."
"Right."
Amanda was trying to give him a smile, but she wasn't doing a very good job. He didn't mean to make light of the fact that she was laid off, and to Logan's credit, he actually did notice her reaction.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "I was trying to lighten the mood."
Amanda gave his arm a gentle pat. "Well, you did much better than Alex would have."
Logan scowled. "That's not a compliment."
"It's as close as you're going to get for now." Amanda leaned in towards the defenseman. "But I may take you up on that ticket offer," she said.
"Good." Logan turned back, his eyes bright as they took in Max one more time. "Maxine! I'll see you tomorrow."
Why did he always insist on calling her Maxine to get her attention? The only person who did that was her grandfather, and Logan was definitely not in any way like her grandfather, that was for sure.
"Tomorrow," she said.
He nodded and finally headed out, his wool coat flailing slightly behind him. Heads turned as he passed the metro desk reporters who had been standing at that printer for no reason for at least the last five minutes. She had to give Logan credit. He knew exactly what they were doing. As he walked out, he turned and flashed them his killer smile, making even the men stare in awe.
Max wouldn't admit that she was jealous of the metro guys. That smile really was electric. But she also had other things to worry about. She had to prepare for an interview on Saturday with Logan Moore.
Chapter 8
Maxine Quinn was not a morning person, especially not a Saturday morning person. That was only reinforced as her cold feet crunched across the snow in the parking lot of the ice rink in Southfield.
One of the superficial reasons she chose to be a sports writer was because sports writers got to stay up late since games usually didn't start until seven o'clock. That also meant she got to sleep in most days, especially when the team was playing at home. Maybe she roll out of bed for a 10 o'clock practice, maybe take a nap before a game like most of the players did.
Of course, there were other reasons she was a writer. The biggest of them was that she wasn't a player. At least not anymore. Once upon a time, Max played hockey as a left winger. She loved it, adored it, and wanted nothing more than to play hockey the rest of her life.
She was 15 years old and the last girl still playing with her almost all-boys team. Then she got hit — hard — by a player on the opposing side. He was a year younger than her, but his body, like most of the boys his age, proved to be too much for Max to handle on the ice. He dislocated her shoulder. The pain was unbelievable and only made worse by the look on the guy's face as he watched them help her off the ice. He was heartbroken and completely shaken up. A few days later, he actually showed up on the front step of her house to personally apologize to her. Max knew it was an accident, knew he didn't intentionally hurt her, but she couldn't do that to another player. And with the pain she was in, she couldn't do that to herself again either.
So she hung up her hockey skates. She didn't even try out for the girls' team at school or look into an all-girls league. She just wanted a clean break from the sport for a while. Instead, she decided to try writing, which led her to her dream job. Now her dream job was about to get shoved into some dusty corner of her life, much like her old hockey skates.
Max just shook her head, trying to get the thought out of her mind. She had a few more weeks before she was out of a job and while it was good to start planning her next steps, she just wasn't ready to face that yet.
