After a one-night stand flips a grumpy hockey goalie's bad luck, he pursues his team's new dental assistant to rebound his abysmal season.
Trapped in a small town, my life has been planned, controlled, and boring. After my sister and I failed to kee...
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Paige's eyes stretched wide. "Why?"
Good question. Pretending I was fine with a sexist coworker while thirty men gawked at me inside a stifling, stinky, humid locker room slotted itself into numero uno embarrassment moment of my life.
And it was totally my fault.
Dr. Gilbert called, and I knew approaching the legal team's meeting was a bad idea, yet I went anyway. If I said, 'Because I'm the queen of idiots,' Paige wouldn't agree out loud, but she'd think it.
"I need a job, Paigey," I mumbled and shifted my canvas bag strap over my shoulder.
"Yes, but not with the baggage this one comes with." She clenched her cart's handle, pushing with a grunt. One of the back wheels spun and squeaked. It would spin fast, slow, and speed up. Like my life, spinning aimlessly, touching down, and spinning off again. All the time staying in the same spot.
Telling her at work, she couldn't berate me above a whisper level. She didn't disappoint, overreacting, blaming herself, and lecturing me as we walked. I took a slow breath of the most comforting scent of aged books. Approaching the children's section, we walked between metal shelves taller than Brody. Taller than Connor.
"You always do this." Paige parked her cart in children's fiction and faced me with her mom-face—scrunched eyebrows and pressed lips. "Jumping into situations before deciding if it's a good idea or not. Like Jim. How could you be so irresponsible?"
How was she not tired of giving me the same lecture? I was. "It's the principle. I couldn't let Coach Sexist Butthurt win."
Unfortunately, letting Coach Sexist Butthurt win was exactly what I'd done.
"Miss Hart." The owner nodded at his head lawyer, who pushed over a thin stack of papers. An employment contract. Nondisclosure agreement. "On behalf of the Bears organization, I express my deepest apologies for Coach Farris' lapse of judgment."
Twelve old, expectant men stared me down. My scrubs against twelve suits should've put me at a disadvantage, except they were internally shitting themselves. No one moved or blinked. The air was hot and thick from their baited breaths.
I nodded, clicking my pen. Click, click. All eyes dropped to my twitchy thumb, and I shifted in my seat. Holding the room's attention was unnerving. The number on the page was unreal. Twice the amount of Dr. Gilbert's original offer was a ridiculous salary amount for a dental assistant, plus health, retirement, and team-facility perks.
"I want full health insurance coverage. Zero out-of-pocket expenses," I said, making the head lawyer nod and note the change. "What happens to the coach?"
Silence. I swallowed at what they didn't say. Nothing would happen, and I'd sign myself into silence.
The terms and conditions blurred. My head was woozy, and my fingers trembled. My sugar level before the meeting was high, but maybe I'd taken too much insulin. I pushed away from the table and grabbed my purse.
