Page 26 of My Lucky Charm

“Oh, yes,” Beverly says. “The one who’s going to assist our new player.” Her face turns serious. “I’m afraid you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“You know, I’ve heard that somewhere . . .” I say with a half-smile toward Coach.

“Now, let’s not scare her off,” he says, whoa-ing his hands.

“Oh, I don’t scare easily,” I say, welcoming the challenge of making Grayson Hawke love this team, this city, his life.

Me.

The thought is bordering on intrusive, so I bury it by flipping a mental switch.

“I’ve already started a list of fun things to show him in the city.” I grin, but I don’t miss the doubtful expression that passes between them, and I feel my smile fall.

Maybe I’m naive, but I’m ready to embrace this task. I don’t believe Gray is as cranky and terrible as he presents himself to be. I just need to figure out how to sell him on a whole new life. And I need to do it without romanticizing that kiss.

No big deal, right?

“I’ve got to get to practice,” the coach says, looking at his watch. “Beverly will take good care of you.”

I shake his outstretched hand, and then he walks out the door, leaving me with Beverly, who already seems like a person I’ll be happy to know.

“Had Grayson Hawke in here last week, and let me just tell you,” she says, shuffling papers and leaning in like she has a secret, “I hope you’ve got a magic wand in that purse.” She raises her eyebrows as if I should know just what she’s talking about.

And I do. Gray is miserable here.

A picture of him sitting at the bar on New Year’s Eve, all by himself, nursing a beer and watching hockey highlights on the television enters my mind.

“It must be hard to be traded,” I say, suddenly feeling empathy toward him. “I’m sure he had a whole life that he had to leave behind.” I wonder what exactly he did leave behind. I know he’s not married, and he said he doesn’t date—or leave his apartment, apparently—during the season. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t people he cared about.

Now, he’s all alone.

Well, except for this entire team of hockey players. And fans. And me.

The thought squeezes something inside me. Not that I expect to be Grayson Hawke’s “person,” but it’s now my job to ease this transition.

I will absolutely figure out how to do it.

Without making the same mistake I made at my last job, of course.

Beverly walks me through all the paperwork, having me sign my name in all the proper places. When she tells me what I’ll be making, I’m floored.

Are there are two extra zeros at the end of that number?

“You didn’t ask about salary before you agreed to take this job?” She shakes her head, chuckling to herself. “Given the task in front of you, you probably could’ve negotiated for more.”

“After my last job didn’t work out, I went back to working at an animal shelter,” I tell her. “I knew that no matter what this job paid, it would be better than that.” I pause. “But a lot less cuddly.”

I didn’t really take the job for the money anyway. I’m looking for redemption after the mistakes I made with Jay. And I suppose I’m trying to figure out my life.

And yeah, maybe I wanted the challenge.

“What are the duties, exactly?” I ask, doing my best to push aside the reemerging imposter syndrome I’m feeling right now.

Beverly opens a folder holding the papers I just signed. Inside is a stapled stack, and she flips a few of the pages, as if reciting my job description from memory. “Running errands, managing his calendar, handling his social media, coordinating his public appearances and charity events, that sort of thing.” She points at another empty line waiting for my signature, and I sign. “You’ll also organize his fan mail and any other special projects or personal appearances that come up.” She looks at me. “The contract doesn’t specify, but you’ll also handle grocery shopping, dry cleaning, booking travel, basically anything Mr. Hawke is too busy to bother with.”

I nod. “Got it.”

“Oh, here—” She flips the page. “NDA.”

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