Page 24 of Yo Ho Ho
"That's a damn good question."
"I know it's a good question," Amanda said with a teasing smile. "What's your answer, Quinn?"
She just shrugged. "I don't know."
"Well, I can tell you that you're a damn good writer," Amanda replied. "Clean copy, great storytelling. That Logan Moore piece was amazing."
Great, another topic she didn't want to talk about. Her Logan Moore story — or rather, the subject of her Logan Moore story.
Max was thankful their food showed up just in time for her to start eating and distract herself from the disaster that was this morning in the parking lot. That was a very good thing considering just the thought of it all these hours later was starting to make her blood boil again. Sure, she honestly had thought the same thing that Logan had. She knew that without her job, she could actually consider being in a relationship with a hockey player who did things to her body that she still couldn't forget no matter how hard she tried.
But Max wouldn't be a beat writer anymore. She wouldn't be on the road with said hockey player like she used to when they had that night together. She would be alone in her apartment in sweatpants collecting unemployment checks. What ambitious hockey player would be interested in a woman who may not remember the last time she showered or had to make tough decisions like whether to wear her red sweatpants or her blue sweatpants.
"Promise me something," Max said.
"Sure."
"When our jobs are over, give me a week or so to wallow, and then start kicking my ass."
"I can do that," Amanda said with a smile. "Oh, can I bring Evan with me?"
"Please don't bring Evan with you," Max said. "I love your husband, but he's an advertising guy for a reason. I just need someone to tell me to get off my ass, not be outgoing and perky while they're doing it."
Her friend laughed and dipped another fry in her ketchup. "Evan is going to love that you called him perky."
Max rolled her eyes. "Just promise."
"I promise!" Amanda said. "I promise. But can I start kicking your ass now?"
"For what?"
"For Logan."
Max was about to take a bite out of her burger but paused. Instead, she stared at her food, then looked at Amanda before quietly putting the burger back on her plate.
"What do you mean about kicking my ass for Logan?"
Amanda looked around as if she was making sure no one was eavesdropping on them, as if they were about to talk about some deep dark secret.
"Did something ever happen between you two?"
Max could feel her heart beating faster in her chest, worried about what exactly her friend Amanda knew, and even worse, what her editor Amanda knew. She had to play this cool. She didn't have that much longer to hold on to her secret. She didn't have to hide her night with him anymore in a few weeks. But for now, she had to keep everything in check and be careful.
She couldn't mention that night in Denver or really, all those other nights after that. The night when they finally talked and she told him she couldn't have a relationship with him because of her job. The night when she ran into him at the ice machine and liked the way he looked at her. The nights when they would just exchange a little eye contact in the locker room or passed each other in the hotel hallway or said a quick good night as they left the arena around the same time. The nights when they would debate hockey in a local bar or the hotel lounge or in the hallway after a game.
Dammit. For someone who had been thinking about this a lot more now lately, she hadn't really thought about it at all.
"Nothing ever happened between us," Max tried to casually say. "I covered the team for the paper. There was no way anything could ever happen between us."
Amanda gave her a skeptical look. "Listen, I don't know if you're interested in Logan, but I'm sure he's interested in you."
Max was stunned. She was trying to play this cool, but she was about to lose all sense of control after hearing that.
"What do you mean he's interested in me?" she stammered. "I mean… that makes no sense."
Her friend put her burger down and stared at you. "What the hell do you mean? You're gorgeous and smart and you love hockey. Not like it. You love it! I once sat next to you at a bar and for an hour, you barely acknowledged I was there while you and Bob yammered on about the best defenseman of all time."
"Bobby Orr," Max muttered.
