“I’m ready. I want to know everything he knows, and then I want to learn more. And I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m ready. I want to be the next Harriers legend. Not a replacement, but a worthy successor.” – Joel Palmer.
Yes, Joel, we believe you are. And better yet, Dante believes you are. Keep an eye on the Harriers, dear readers; you’ll be witness to the making of a new legend.
The final article came easier than any of my previous attempts. Dante and Joel had both given me permission to tell their stories, which I was infinitely grateful for. Without that, I wouldn’t have been able to put it together, to show how similar their lives had been in spite of their backgrounds. I hoped they would read it that way.
With six hours left until my deadline, I sent the article to Jimmy.
“Now what?” I asked myself, staring at my computer. That familiar panic jumped in my chest. “I have nothing in my work queue!”
My energy switched into high gear and I cycled through all of my emails, job boards, and open submissions. Within three hours, I had compiled a month’s worth of work, and had begun to brainstorm article ideas.
Just when I was confident enough to pitch a bid, an email popped up in my inbox. It was Jim from the Crier, and my stomach flopped instantly. He had responded too quickly. Was the article terrible? Would I need to start from scratch, with my notes and scrapped attempts? I hissed a breath through my teeth as I opened the email.
Ms. Ramos,
Excellent work! This is exactly the sort of feature we were hoping for. In fact, we would like to see more of these. The background of the stars, hard work stories, humanization of legends. To that end, we would like to extend an offer to you.
Attached is a contract for you to look over. Take your time, and feel free to have a lawyer comb through it at our expense. If you find the terms to your liking, please have a signed, notarized copy sent to the office at your convenience.
Jim DeLeary
My heart pounded as I opened up the attached contract. I scanned through it quickly until I found the meat of it, and then my jaw dropped. I stared until black spots flickered around my peripheral vision, then I gasped for the breath I had forgotten to take.
A weekly column, in my name. More money than I had ever had in my account at once, every single month.
“Who needs a lawyer? I’m taking this.”
My instinct was to sign immediately, but the responsible adult in my head wasn’t having it. I called up my friend Jenny, who drafted legal documents for a living.
“Holy cow,” she whistled when I told her the details of the contract. “That’s a lot of money.”
“Right? Which is why I desperately need you to look over this to make sure they aren’t screwing me in the fine print.”
“Yeah, absolutely. I’m free for the next hour; can you come by the office?”
“I’ll be right there. Oh, and you can bill the Crier for your time, apparently.”
“Nice,” she said happily. “I might take a couple hours and go over this real carefully.”
I laughed as I hung up, printed the contract, and made for the door. I felt like I was holding a dream in my hand. It was silly to be so careful with a stack of papers, but I couldn’t help it. This was everything I’d ever wanted from my career, and possibly more. I had seen my big break and taken it.
Chapter 25
“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary,” Jenny said after looking through the contract a second time. “It’s pretty standard. Essentially, all it says is that you will write four articles a month for the paper, for the salary that they listed, plus employee benefits.
“You are to come in to the office once a month for a staff meeting; otherwise, you can work via email. Anything you write for the paper—or anything that you come up with while researching an article for the paper—belongs to the paper. All other brain babies are yours to keep.”
“Simple enough,” I replied. “Anything else I should know?”
“The contract is only good for a year, so you will probably be renegotiating at the end of that year—mark your calendar. Other than that, don’t commit plagiarism or libel, uphold the journalistic integrity of the Crier, and short of death or illness, don’t bail on the paper before your contract is up,” Jenny explained.
“Oh, also, they say you can take a vacation whenever you like as long as you write your articles in advance and show up to the staff meetings before and after said vacation,” she added.
“Very nice,” I said appreciatively. “All right, I’m taking it. Do you have a notary around here?”
Jenny did. The contract was signed, notarized, and in Jim DeLeary’s hands before the end of the day. I was still in shock about the whole thing, and I was itching to share the good news.
Who better to share it with than Dante?
“Hi! I want to go out and celebrate tonight. Care to join me?”
“What are we celebrating?” he asked suggestively.
“My upward trajectory in the world,” I laughed. “The paper picked me up. I am now officially a columnist for The Portland Crier.”
Dante whooped, and I grinned. He was as happy for me as I was for myself, which was a new kind of rush.
Dante brought all sorts of new things to my life, I realized. The dinners, the dancing, the fact that he was a life-long jock, not to mention a celebrity.
Dating him was like visiting a different country where everything was extraordinary and comfortable all at once. I couldn’t wait to see where this connection would lead me.
Chapter 26
Six Months Later
The last game of the season was much more exciting than the first. Watching all of the players work in perfect unison was absolutely glorious, and my VIP seat gave me the up-close and personal view I never would have wanted when this whole thing began.
It was a tight game; the crowd roared, the competition was fierce, and my two favorite jocks were playing like never before. The atmosphere warmed my blood better than coffee these days, and I didn’t even notice the cold anymore.
Joel hit the winning goal, ripping me to my feet in an ecstatic scream. With that one shot, he’d officially matched Dante’s scores for the season, bringing them to a solid tie. The teams did their good-sportsmanship show, then Dante broke away from the pack to skate over to me.
Sweeping his helmet off of his head, Dante shook out his curls, leaned over the wall, and kissed me soundly. Joel swooped past, cheering for us even as the crowd cheered for him. I smiled against my boyfriend’s mouth, the whole of my being consumed with bliss.
“Congratulations,” I told him as I pulled back to gaze into his glittering eyes.
“Couldn’t have done it without you, babe,” he said, kissing me again. “Thai Palace, one hour.”
“I thought that was just for the team,” I said, nuzzling his cold nose with mine.
“You made the team, darlin’. You’re coming.”
“Yes, dear,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Dante pulled a face at me, pretending like he was going to jump over the wall.
I laughed and pushed him away, making him glide backwards across the ice. He blew me a kiss and followed his team into the locker rooms.
A happy sigh escaped me. My own column, a star athlete for a boyfriend…the past six months would mark a win on the calendar of my life. I was floating on clouds as I moved through the crowd and out the door into the unseasonably warm April afternoon.
I kept the windows down and the music up as I wound lazily through the city streets, taking the scenic route to Thai Palace. Dante would be a while, and I didn’t feel like hanging out in the parking lot by myself. I drove around a park I didn’t recognize and followed the curving avenue as it kissed the river bank and curved back to guide wandering eyes to a towering hotel.
Something about the way it glittered made me pull over, just to take it all in.
It was built like a modern-day castle, all marble and glass with dizzying spire
s and wrought iron balconies which wrapped around the whole of the building. A glass enclosure behind it hinted at an indoor pool, and cherry blossoms floated on the breeze, framing the hotel in romance and lazy springtime dreams.
I could have written a million stories in that moment, fanciful fictions filled with princesses and knights, princes and paupers. I’d never considered fiction before that moment, but something about the picture tickled my creative brain awake.
“Oh, shoot,” I muttered as I glanced at my watch.
I had spent too long lost in my own fantasies. I pulled back into the empty road and made a beeline for the restaurant, less than a mile away in a completely different world. Bits of paper took the place of cherry blossoms on the breeze, and Thai Palace’s busted sign was the only thing that glittered.
That didn’t matter, though, because there was something much more exciting there. Just as I pulled in, the convoy pulled up behind me, led by Dante’s sleek convertible. I could hear his music before I could see his face, priming my affection for his attention.
As I closed my door, he scooped me into a massive bear hug. Laughter bubbled out of me in a spiral as he spun me around, making me feel like one of those princesses I had dreamed up only minutes before.
“You make one hell of a Prince Charming,” I murmured against his hair.
“You know it,” he said, tilting his grinning face up to press his lips to mine.
The world around us faded away as he teased me with his tongue, flicking it in and out, never letting me tangle with it. A frustrated groan propelled my own tongue forward, cornering him. He chuckled into my mouth and surrendered, giving me what I wanted.
Whoops and hollers from the team didn’t even cut through my enraptured haze. We slow danced to the music of the spring breeze in the busy parking lot.
“Hey, we’re splitting this bill,” Joel’s voice interrupted. “Get your butts in here before I get stuck with the whole thing.”
Dante and I separated with twin smiles, and he set me down gently. He wrapped his massive arm around my shoulder, then Joel sidled up beside me and planted a friendly kiss on my cheek.
“My boys,” I sighed happily. “Never would I have predicted this.”
“Tell me about it—if you’d told me a year ago that Joel and I would be friends after chasing the same woman, I would have laughed at you.”
“Us chase her? I’m pretty sure you have that backwards,” Joel said with a wicked grin.
“Let’s call it mutual chasing,” I said, amused.
“You chased me until I caught you,” Dante pointed out, grinning.
“My grandma used to say that all the time,” I laughed. “Her one regret was that she never had an ill-advised passionate affair.”
“I think you made up for that,” Joel said wryly.
I couldn’t deny it, so I just stuck my tongue out at him. He made to bite it, but stopped short under Dante’s glare. Joel smiled apologetically over my head, and I rolled my eyes.
“You two just can’t stop, can you?” I asked.
“Stop what?” Dante asked innocently.
“The competition,” I said. “You kind of won, Dante.”
“Not yet, I haven’t,” Dante said pensively.
I cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, but he just shook his head at me and kissed my hand. I knew better than to press him by now.
Dante was a man of timing; whatever he had to say would surface eventually.
The whole team was seated and waiting for us when we walked in. They filled the little room in the back, surrounded by pictures of their team in general, and Dante specifically. I noticed an empty frame on the wall in a spot which had definitely been empty the last time I had come here. I wondered if the team had brought Jack another picture for his collection.
High-energy conversation quickly distracted me, followed by piles and piles of food. The team had apparently ordered the entire menu, and intended for everyone to eat family-style.
It was comfortable, despite the fact that I was sorely outnumbered by massive, high-spirited men. It gave me the little-sister feeling that I hadn’t had since my group of guy friends in high school, and I found myself slipping into a pleasantly vague nostalgia.
Halfway through the meal, Dante stood.
“Good season, boys!”
They answered him with a cheer.
“You trained good; you played good; you did great. To my brothers, my lover, and Joel…”
The table broke into laughter at that, and Joel narrowed his eyes in a playful glare.
“You did damn good.”
The guys cheered and I blew Dante a kiss.
“There’s one more thing I need to do before I can call this season a win, though,” Dante said somberly.
Silence fell over the table, and all of a sudden, all eyes were on me. My mouth went dry and I swallowed hard, extremely self-conscious with very little idea why. I looked up at Dante for reassurance, but he was smoldering down at me with a layered intensity that I had never seen before.
I regretted indulging in the delicious Thai food as my stomach twisted into a hard, anxious knot.
His eyes leveled with mine, never breaking the connection, as he knelt down on one knee. Panic and excited anticipation crashed through my brain, short-circuiting every thought in a confused cluster. His hand slipped into his pocket and reappeared, holding my future in a small velvet box.
I sucked in a breath, frantically searching my mind for my answer before he had even asked the question. I was going to miss it. I forced myself to focus.
“Livia Ramos,” he began in that low, honeyed tone which made my body quake. “Without you, I would still be a kid denying reality. I would have missed out on a best friend, a fulfilling future, and a resolved relationship with the past. You’ve turned my whole life around; will you walk the new road with me? Not just until you get tired of me, not until I start to annoy you, but forever?”
With the last word, he flipped the box open.
“I need to hear the words,” I whispered, my brain still running circles of disbelief.
“Livia Ramos, my wordsmith, my brilliant, beautiful love…will you marry me?”
My mouth was dry. I swallowed once and then again, nodding furiously as tears pricked at my eyes.
“I need to hear the words,” he said gently, a cocky smile on his face.
“Yes, Dante Drake, I’ll marry you,” I choked out.
A happy sob refused to be contained as I flung my arms around his neck, knees hitting the floor, mouth pressed frantically to his. I felt like I was flying and drowning all at once, lost in a whirlwind of emotion.
He trembled in my arms, and after a moment, I couldn’t tell if the tears on my cheeks were mine or his. The boys cheered for us, a camera flashed beside us, but all I cared about was Dante.
I could have held onto him forever, but the boys weren’t having it. They pulled us apart eventually, all of them talking at once. Congratulations, back slapping, cheek kissing, and then dessert, brought out by Jack himself.
“Congratulations!” he said with a big grin. “Stay for one hour, ice cream and wine on the house.”
He nearly skipped away, and I raised a curious brow at Dante.
“Why are we staying for an hour?” I asked him.
“For the free ice cream and wine, of course!” he dodged with a wink.
All I could do was roll my eyes, and I did so with gusto. Dante laughed at me, and Joel bounced in his seat like an excited child. Conversation turned to summer fitness and next season’s strategies.
I listened intently, soaking it all in. It fascinated me to learn how people in other professions thought about them; it seemed to me that anyone who was passionate about their work was never really “off”. I certainly never was, I realized. I was constantly collecting information, storing it on mental note cards for potential future use.
Suddenly, Jack was at my elbow with a large envelope and a felt-tipped silver pen.
&
nbsp; “Will you sign first, future Mrs. Drake?” he asked with a huge grin.
“Um…what am I signing?” I asked.
“Your engagement photo!” he said triumphantly, pulling the picture out.
My hands flew up to my face as a rush of emotion rose in my throat. The photo was absolutely gorgeous with Dante and me locked in a classy but obviously passionate kiss. The ring glittered from its box, nestled in his massive palm. Behind us were the cheering faces of the Harriers. It had been printed in black and white, which only made it better.
“Oh, I can’t write on this,” I gasped. “It’s too perfect!”
“That’s why I brought two,” Jack said with a chuckle as he pulled a second envelope out from behind his back. “This one is for you to keep. Hang it on your wall and tell everybody that it happened at Thai Palace.”
“Thank you,” I blubbered as tears spilled down my cheeks.
I handed the second photo to Dante for safekeeping as I signed Jack’s picture. I tried not to cry onto it, but I was pretty sure I ruined the bottom left corner. A quick glance at the picture frame on the wall suggested that it wouldn’t matter, which was a relief.
Jack passed the picture and the pen around the group until everyone had signed it. He bowed at us quickly, then disappeared with the picture and frame.
He reappeared a moment later and hung the photo on the wall.
“Now, you’re immortal,” he told me with a big smile. “Just like your future husband.”
A giddy laugh broke from my throat, easing the tension in my chest with a rolling wave of delight. I moved my chair closer to Dante’s so I could cling to him, and ended up sitting in his lap as he cradled me in his strong, warm arms.
My future husband, I thought, trying it out. Yeah. Yeah, I like that.
Epilogue
One Year Later
The inside of the hotel was just as glorious as the outside implied. It hadn’t been difficult for me to choose this hotel as the venue, especially once I saw where it was—exactly centered between the rink and Thai Palace one way, between my apartment and the Revival the other way. Dante and I had been rotating around this building for our entire relationship, and we’d never even realized it.
Wanna Puck? - A MFM Bad Boy Hockey Star Menage (Share Me Book 1) Page 12
