Finding Carson Lee (Oh Captan, My Captain #3)

by Lindsay Paige

  Finding Carson Lee

  An Oh Captain, My Captain Novel

  by Lindsay Paige and Mary Smith

  Finding Carson Lee

  Copyright 2014 by Lindsay Paige and Mary Smith

  Smashwords Edition

  This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights: you are not allowed to give or sell this book to anyone else.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it, and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. Except for the use of short passages for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced, in part or in whole, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, or any information retrieval system, without prior permission in the form of writing by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products, or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner.

  Cover Designed by: Bailey Ardisone

  Edited by: Kathy Krick

  ISBN: 9781310716324

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: Kinley

  Chapter Two: Carson

  Chapter Three: Kinley

  Chapter Four: Carson

  Chapter Five: Kinley

  Chapter Six: Carson

  Chapter Seven: Kinley

  Chapter Eight: Carson

  Chapter Nine: Kinley

  Chapter Ten: Carson

  Chapter Eleven: Kinley

  Chapter Twelve: Carson

  Chapter Thirteen: Kinley

  Chapter Fourteen: Carson

  Chapter Fifteen: Kinley

  Chapter Sixteen: Carson

  Chapter Seventeen: Kinley

  Chapter Eighteen: Carson

  Chapter Nineteen: Kinley

  Chapter Twenty: Carson

  Chapter Twenty-One: Kinley

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Carson

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Kinley

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Carson

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Kinley

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Carson

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Kinley

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Carson

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Kinley

  Chapter Thirty: Carson

  Chapter Thirty-One: Kinley

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Carson

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Kinley

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Carson

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Kinley

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Carson

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: Kinley

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: Carson

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: Kinley

  Chapter Forty: Carson

  Chapter Forty-One: Kinley

  Chapter Forty-Two: Carson

  Epilogue: Kinley

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Coming Soon

  Chapter One

  Kinley

  “I’m still in shock.” I take a large gulp of my wine. “I can’t believe that I’ve been given this opportunity.”

  “So, let me see if I understand this.” Cassie, my best friend, studies my face from across the table. “Your boss wants you to sign this hockey player to be your spokesman, and if you do, you’ll get to be in the football department.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “First, it’s not the ‘football department’, it’s the lead of the football spokesman campaign. That means I can mingle with all the NFL greats. Second, think of the money with this promotion. I could finally afford name brand shoes and not the knock-offs.”

  “But the hockey guy has to sign on first, right?”

  I take a deep breath. “Right, but how hard could that be? I mean, it’s hockey. I’m not sure that’s a real sport. I mean, they’re on skates.”

  Cassie fluffs her short, auburn hair. “I don’t think that’s quite true. I mean, I dated this guy once, and he lived and breathed the Alabama Blacksmiths. Now, you have to get bad-boy, captain Carson Lee as your spokesman.”

  I twirl my natural blonde hair around my finger. My nerves were getting to me a little bit, but I know I can do this. “Piece of cake.”

  “Okay, well good luck, and I need to go home.” She tosses money on the table, kisses my cheek, and leaves me in the restaurant.

  I tap my freshly manicured nails on the wine glass, thinking of how I’m going to get this guy to sign the contract. I need a game plan. I wave the waiter down, take care of the bill, and head home.

  I walk up my three flights of stairs to my tiny apartment that I call home. It’s only one bedroom and the living room and kitchen are connected, but I love it. Mainly because it’s the first place of my own. I still remember the day I signed the lease. I had been promoted at work and I was in shock from all that was happening in my personal life. I hated the way everything went down, but I made the right decision. I wouldn’t have changed a thing about it.

  I put on some comfortable yoga pants and a tank top. I pour myself another glass of wine and turn on my laptop. I flip on ESPN because I need to hear the football scores and updates.

  I study the screen as I type in Carson Lee. Google never fails me, and it doesn’t when post after post comes up. Carson Lee isn’t a bad looking guy. Tall, very built and likes to be in trouble. I’m a little surprised that he’s a captain. He has dated every person in all of Birmingham, all of Hollywood, and about everyone in between.

  I don’t understand all the stats, but once I figure out all the abbreviations, I know why he is the captain. He’s the best. He holds records for most blocked shots, most goals by a defensive player, and most penalty minutes. I watch several YouTube videos, and he’s deadly on the ice.

  Yep, he’s a bad-boy.

  Now to get him to be my spokesman. I rub my hands together. I can do this. I need to do this because I want to be in the football division.

  Football is my passion. I love it. I’ve watched it with my parents since I was young. It’s a southern tradition. Friday nights were reserved for local high school games. Saturday was for college. Sunday, after church, was the NFL. From August until the Super Bowl, that was it. There is nothing else.

  About twenty years ago some Canadian billionaire, that now lives here in Alabama, got the idea of bringing a hockey team here. It didn’t do well at first. Actually, it damn near went bankrupt. However, people started to go and BOOM. Hockey became big here.

  Except for me.

  I mean it’s ice skating: a stick and a little ball. No, wait, I think it’s called a puck. I need to remember all these terms for my meeting tomorrow.

  I check my watch and realize that I need sleep. I have to impress Carson’s agent if I’m going to get this to work.

  ~

  I run into the bathroom and double check myself in the mirror. I had to tame down my unruly blonde hair into curls. My makeup is perfect and not too heavy to hide my green eyes. I smooth over my deep purple blouse and black pants. Yep, with my pear shaped body I’m not ever going to be a model. I wish I could lose ten more pounds so I could squeeze my ass back into a size eight.

  Well, that isn’t going to happen in the next five minutes. So, in the words of my mama, flaunt what you got and that’s what I
’m going to do.

  I leave the restroom and head to the end of the hall to Mike Underwood’s office, Carson Lee’s agent. I introduce myself to the secretary, and she tells me to have a seat. I do, laying my purse in my lap and crossing my ankles.

  After several minutes, she tells me I can go in, and I give her a polite smile as I pass her. I walk through a large oak door and into one of the biggest offices I’d ever seen. How important is this guy?

  I walk into the large office. I didn’t realize that I was going to be meeting someone older. I notice that he has to be closer to my father’s age. I assumed I would be meeting someone younger. He stands up from his desk, buttoning his black jacket, and he runs his hand through his graying hair.

  “Mr. Underwood, I’m Kinley Wright.” I stick my hand out to him, bringing myself back to my game plan.

  “Wow, that’s some accent. I thought I’d heard it all when I moved here.” He shook my hand and points for me to sit down.

  “I didn’t realize I had an accent.” I smile at him. I could tell the moment he opened his mouth that he is from the northern states.

  “Trust me you do, but let’s get down to business.” He looks over some papers on his desk, and I pull out my copy of the contract. “You want Carson to be the spokesman for LSMP clothing line. Right?”

  “Correct. We think that Mr. Lee would fit right into our new fall line. It’s a mix between the rough and tough and relaxing everyday clothes. We’ve studied Mr. Lee, and we heard that he wasn’t happy with his current clothing sponsors, and LSMP would be a perfect fit for him.” I can’t believe I got all of that out without stammering at all.

  “Yes, well, see the reason Carson is shopping for another clothing sponsor is because he likes free stuff and the female models, and the other sponsor dropped him because he punched the photographer.” Mr. Underwood didn’t even flinch when he said that.

  “Oh,” what the hell do I say to that? “You know, that’s why I said rough and tough.” I give my best fake giggle to him.

  “Yes, you did.” He flips through a few more pages. “I already told Carson this was a good deal. So, he’ll make his final decision tonight. Of course, he’ll need to meet you before he says ‘yes’.”

  “Um, meet me? I mean, I know that we’ll be working close together when the shoots starts, but-”

  Mr. Underwood put his hand up and stops me from talking. “This isn’t a negotiation. You can pick up tickets to the game tonight at the front gate. Carson will meet you when the game is over.” He gives me a big smile. “Have fun.”

  Chapter Two

  Carson

  I tilt my head to the left and then to the right, hearing the pop each time. The third period is about to start, and we’re up by three, two goals courtesy of yours truly. Our home crowd is eating up our energy. I don’t care what anyone says, our fans are the rowdiest. I think that comes from our play. We play rough and celebrate with arrogance. They love it.

  Chasing a Portland Viking down the ice, I catch him against the boards, shoving him hard as I try to regain possession. He manages to keep it and push me away, slapping it towards the goalie.

  Fuck. He scores.

  And then another Viking scores five minutes later.

  And then another.

  Our goalie is a nice guy and all, but damn if I’m not ready for a new one. We have to fight extra hard to take a lead and win. I’m this close too, when one of our guys gets a penalty. That’s all the Vikings need to score with three minutes left in the period. We don’t get any good chances and lose the game. These are the games I despise. When we have a decent lead, and then we lose our shit in the third that costs us the game.

  At least this is a good excuse to go get laid, as if I need one. I change, leave the guys behind, and drive to my favorite bar in my black Lamborghini. Thanks to my car and having a favorite post-game bar, I’m never hard to find. The women come to me, so I can make them come in return. I find an empty seat in the corner to survey my options. Without even asking, the bartender brings me my drink of choice, whiskey.

  My eyes scan the brunettes, the redheads, the girls with black hair, those that are more than one color, and then my favorite, blondes. There seems to be one, in particular, that is watching me. Usually, they’ll glance a few times with a little smile that’s secretly begging me to walk over to them. This one, though, isn’t smiling. She almost looks unsure. I bring my glass to my lips, trying to figure her out. At least she’s a blonde. Her curls are a bit too perfect, like she’s not naturally curly.

  She surprises me by standing and walking over to me. She’s curvy, not my usual size two type, but she owns it with confidence, which is a plus. As she gets closer, stopping at the empty stool next to me, I see she has green eyes.

  “Carson Lee?” Her Southern accent is clear and strong, even with only my name.

  “That’s me. Who might you be, sweetheart?” I grin.

  Her eyes narrow slightly. “Kinley Wright, with LSMP. We were supposed to meet.”

  Oh, great. She takes the seat next to me as I reply, “Right. Sorry, it slipped my mind. Mike tell you to meet me here?” She nods. “That’s why. He knew I would be here and wouldn’t remember one way or another.” I take a quick, deep breath. “Did you go to the game? Enjoy it?”

  “I did see the game. I especially enjoyed the third quarter when you hit that other player into the wall. Very exciting.”

  Quarter? I stare at her for a second to see if she’ll catch her mistake. “You don’t know shit about hockey, do you?” I raise an eyebrow at her with a bit of annoyance, but mostly curiosity. They want me to work with this woman, and she doesn’t even know what she’s talking about?

  “Oh, well, I’m new to the sport, but I really enjoy it. I mean, I like it so much. It’s a great sport. Yep, love it.” She nods one too many times, but I’m not buying what she’s selling.

  For some reason, I laugh. “No need to lie, sweetheart. And by the way, quarter usually means there’s four of ‘em.”

  “Okay, so I’m not a huge fan of hockey, but I did enjoy the game. Yes, it was the first full game I’d seen. Most of the hockey I see is on ESPN when I’m trying to catch up on the football stats.”

  Her confession surprises me. I was expecting her to ride the “I’m a fan, so I know what I’m talking about” for a while longer. “Football, huh? Why are you trying to work in this sport, if you aren’t knowledgeable about it to start with or since you’re actually a fan of another?”

  “Alright, Mr. Lee. Let’s cut the crap, okay?” She straightens her posture as her tone turns into one that means no-bullshit-accepted. “You’ve had a long day and I have too. So, here’s the deal: no, I’m not a fan of hockey. I bleed football. However, my boss thinks that you’re a perfect fit for LSMP and I think so too. Now, are you going to sign with us, or do I need to go see if one of those Viking players want the job? I know their plane hasn’t left yet.”

  I clench my jaw and glare at her before catching sight of a regular behind her, a girl I’ve slept with before. I reach into my back pocket, grab some cash from my wallet, and slap it on the bar. “How about I let you know in a day or two?” Standing, I lay a hand on her shoulder, smile and add, “In the meantime, if you rather have a Viking, go get one. Otherwise, you can wait for a bit. Nice meeting you, sweetheart.” Then I walk to the girl, grab her hand without a word, and take her home with me.

  ~

  “What are you going to do?” Mike barged into my house this morning, wanting an answer.

  “I don’t know. Don’t really like her,” I answer, fixing myself a protein shake.

  “Of course you don’t,” he mumbles.

  “She’s on the bitchy side and seems like she’d be a pain in my ass. She doesn’t even know anything about hockey.” I turn around, lean against my counter, and start drinking my shake.

  “So? She doesn’t exactly need to know everything to do her job. Look, Carson,” he puts his hands together with his fingertips under
his chin, like he’s about to pray, “I think you need to do it. You need to straighten up a little. The league won’t tolerate you much longer if you keep going like you are, no matter how good you may be.”

  “You mean, how good I am. There’s no may about it, Mike.”

  He gives me a stern look. “Call her, tell her you’ll do it, and then suck it up and deal with it. Got it?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I’m still going to make her wait until tomorrow at least.

  “Carson?” I turn my head at the sound of the girl I brought home last night. She’s in one of my t-shirts. What the fuck is wrong with her clothes? She needs to put those back on, so she can leave. Not my clothes.

  Mike shakes his head. “That needs to slow down too,” he says, ignoring her. “Don’t come crying to me when you catch something.” Mike grabs his things and leaves as the girl walks over with a frown.

  “What’s for breakfast?” she questions with a sweet smile. I want to shake my head at her, but I don’t. She knows better than to ask.

  “Whatever you get when you leave. Go change. I got things to do today.”

  Chapter Three

  Kinley

  Two days.

  It’s been two days, and I’m tired of putting off my boss. Carson Lee should have called me by now, but hasn’t yet. This is bad, and I’m probably going to be cleaning toilets if I don’t land this deal.