Page 9 of Behind the Net

Whatever. Not the point. He’s king of the assholes, but I need this job.

Hazel barks a laugh. “This is how you end up on the front page of the newspaper.Local Hockey Star Accosted by Insane Stalker.”

“I’m not going to stalk him. I’m going to get my job back.”

Maybe she’s right and going in with guns blazing isn’t the best approach. She turns back to the counter to make her smoothie, and when she opens the cupboard, I spot the muffin tin I used last week.

An idea hits me. Hazel’s right—if I show up and demand my job back, he’ll think I’m a psycho.

If I show up withcupcakes, though, I’ll just be reinforcing what a great assistant I’d be. No one calls the police on someone who brings cupcakes.

When I tell Hazel my plan, she laughs. “I’ll keep my phone on in case I need to bail you out.”

Two hours later, the cupcakes are cooled and decorated. On the outside, they’re perfectly iced, topped with fun, colorful sprinkles. These cupcakes are filled with my rage, though. I really beat the shit out of the batter while I made them, pouring all my frustration from Zach and Jamie and my crappy life situation into it.

From the schedule Jamie gave me, I know he’ll be home in ten minutes, so I pack the cupcakes into a container and get ready to leave.

Hazel grins at me as I slip my shoes on. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

On the walk to Jamie’s apartment, it starts to rain. I forgot that Vancouver’s weather can turn on a dime, so I’m not wearing my coat with the hood. At a stoplight, I chew my lip, wondering if I should turn back and get my other jacket.

No. I can already feel the hesitation wavering in my stomach. If I turn back, I won’t go through with this.

Ineedthat job. I need the money. I need to give Hazel space at the apartment, and I need an in with the team so I can get the marketing job and move on with my life. This is happening.

I’m getting my job back.

CHAPTER5

JAMIE

I’m trying to nap,but I can’t stop thinking about my pretty assistant.

Ex-assistant.

Fuck. I stare out the windows of my bedroom, where it’s pouring rain to match my mood. I’ve been thinking about her all day. Why do I care? She’ll get snapped up by someone else in a heartbeat.

An ugly feeling spikes in my chest. I hate the idea of her setting up some other guy’s apartment, smiling for him and singing in his kitchen.

There’s a knock at my front door, and I frown. I wasn’t expecting anyone. When I reach the door, Daisy is already there, sniffing under it and wagging her tail.

I open it and freeze.

Mascara runs down Pippa’s face. She’s been crying? Pain shocks my chest, but her eyes are clear and her hair is soaked, bangs sticking to her forehead, and my chest muscles ease. At the sight of me, she straightens up, nostrils flaring. In the back of my mind, I notice how cute that is.

“Hi,” she says, and the long column of her throat works. She blinks.

She’s nervous. She’s holding a plastic container. There are cupcakes inside.

I frown again. “How’d you get upstairs?” She needs a key or to be buzzed in.

She waves me off. “The guys from yesterday remembered me, and I gave them cupcakes.”

Of course they let her up. This woman could talk a cop into handing over his gun. All she’d have to do is smile and flick her ponytail, and he’d be like,you want the bullets, too?There’s a weird, funny pressure in my chest, and for the first time in so long, I feel the urge to smile.

She shoves the container into my hands. “These are for you.”

I raise my eyebrows, staring at them through the clear plastic lid. “I haven’t had a cupcake in over a decade.”

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