Breakout (A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance)

by Ellis, Aven

  Chapter 6

  The One Online Dating Service Profile Question: How do you feel about dating someone in the workplace? Off-limits? Only if you keep it discreet? Never?

  My write-in answer: Ha, not a problem since I don’t have a job at Total Access Total Sports. And Niko would most likely date a sexy Demons Ice Girl than a hockey editor, so this question is irrelevant.

  I review the open again, and a proud feeling sweeps over me. I have been at Total Access Total Sports for almost five hours now, only stopping long enough to run across the street with Niko and grab sandwiches to go from the deli. Then I went straight back to editing while he worked on pre-production for the telecast tomorrow.

  And while we’ve both been focused, pretty much talking only about hockey and TV elements, I confirmed my suspicion that Niko is intense when it comes to his work. A perfectionist. He was developing his run down for how the show was going to be organized, down to the smallest detail, and making copies for everyone on his truck to have so they could see where he was going. I watched as he went over the list of advertising elements he had to cram into the show, making sure he had the current logo for all the sponsors, and I laughed when he cussed at some of the dumb features sold into the game by advertising.

  So while he has been running in and out, I’ve been steadily perfecting the thirty-seven-second video that is going to be the introduction to his Dallas Demons producing career.

  And now I’m finally ready to let him see it.

  I swivel in my chair. Niko is chewing on the end of his pen as he studies the computer screen in front of him.

  “Niko?”

  “Hmmm?” he says, not even lifting his eyes from the screen.

  “I’m finished. Do you want to see it?”

  “Wow, it only took you four hours to edit thirty-seven seconds? We’ve got to improve your speed, Lexi.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, and he flashes me a huge grin before laughing.

  And despite my best efforts, despite the fact that I know he’s never going to be the guy I date, my heartbeat accelerates in response.

  “Everyone thinks editing takes five seconds.” I sigh. “People have no idea how much time it takes to layer in all the video, add the lighting and shadows. Not to mention color correcting and rendering.”

  Niko pushes his wheeled chair across the floor space so he’s next to me. “And finding the perfect music in one of our licensed music libraries.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “But if you see anything you want tweaked, let me know. We have two hours before you said the shift guys come in to work on basketball and football, right?”

  “Right.” Niko nods.

  “But I know you’ll love the music. I used a vibe similar to ‘Cold Coffee.’”

  Niko furrows his brow, and I smile mischievously.

  “I never thought I’d ever say this in my producing career, but I think something akin to 5 Seconds of Summer would be better,” he quips.

  We laugh, and oh, how I love the sparkle in his gorgeous blue eyes when he’s amused by something I’ve said.

  “Don’t worry. I picked something tense, since this is a rematch of the finals last year,” I say.

  Niko nods in agreement. “Good. That series against Baltimore was a war.” Then he clears his throat. “So let’s see it.”

  I take a nervous breath. This is it. If he hates it, I’ll never have another chance to edit for Total Access Total Sports.

  And worse, I would have let him down.

  I couldn’t bear it if I did, I think, studying his profile. I want so badly to knock this out of the park for him.

  “Okay.” I start the video.

  His eyes are focused on the screen, watching quick shots of Harrison Flynn taking a huge hit in last year’s series, of the Demons holding the cup in a hard-fought championship win, of the Baltimore Blades appearing dejected. Then I have a brief shot of Nate and Matt joining the team, of the Blades looking determined, and then a close out to a rematch logo.

  The open still needs to have a voiceover done by the play-by-play announcer of the team, but it’s powerful. The music is intense, which is meant to set the vibe for the telecast. I used shading and light to add to the drama, too.

  Niko stares at the screen, his arms folded across his chest as he leans back in his chair.

  “Hmmm.”

  My stomach drops out. Hmmm? Just hmmm? Oh, shit, did I totally misunderstand what he wanted? Is the vibe too serious? Did he hate the clips I pulled?

  “Hmmm?” I ask. “What does that mean?”

  Niko wrinkles his nose, and when I see that, I feel panic setting in.

  “Well,” Niko says, “it’s not bad.”

  I freeze. “Not bad?”

  Okay. This is my first professional sports edit. I suppose that’s a compliment, right?

  But my perfectionist self is crushed by “not bad.”

  “And by not bad,” Niko says, shifting his full attention to me, “I mean freaking awesome.”

  Ahhhh!

  “This is exactly what I wanted,” he exclaims, his face lighting up. “You nailed it, Lexi. The music is perfect, the highlights are dead on. Let’s hope my telecast lives up to the open.”

  Exhilaration rips through me. He not only likes it, he loves it!

  “I’m so glad you like it,” I say happily.

  “I love it. I owe you one.”

  “No, please, you took a chance on me,” I say honestly. “I owe you.”

  Niko grins. “Are we going to argue again?”

  I laugh. “Perhaps.”

  The door opens, and in walks a middle-aged man, one who is tall, rail thin, and slightly balding with glasses.

  He seems more like a college professor than someone who would work in sports.

  “Hey Niko, how’s it going?” he asks.

  Niko pushes back from the desk, and as he does, his arm extends out. And peeking out from underneath his denim shirt sleeve, on the inside of his forearm, I see a tattoo. My throat goes dry as I see Greek alphabet letters exposed. It’s some kind of saying, that much I can guess, but it’s hot, knowing that’s hidden underneath his clothing.

  “Derek, this is the editor I was telling you about,” Niko says, standing up. “Derek O’Neil, this is Lexi Stewart. Lexi, this is Derek, our weekend studio manager.”

  I stand up and firmly shake his hand. “So nice to meet you, Derek.”

  “Likewise,” he says, smiling at me. Then he shifts his gaze to Niko. “So your open is done?”

  “Yes,” Niko says, nodding in the direction of the screen. “Lexi crushed this one today. She gets hockey.”

  I feel a smile pass over my face from Niko’s vote of confidence in me.

  “Ah, I can’t wait to see it later,” Derek says. “Do you have all your elements for tomorrow?”

  Niko nods again. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  They talk for another minute or so, and then Derek excuses himself. After he shuts the door, Niko turns to me.

  “I’ll make sure he sees it. And John Wyatt, the studio director. I’ll make sure they both see this, Lexi.”

  “Thank you so much for that,” I say. “You have no idea how grateful I am for what you have done for me today.”

  “Likewise.”

  And as his eyes meet mine, I find my breath catching in my throat.

  “I guess we’re good here,” Niko says, his gaze still on my face.

  “I guess we are,” I say, unable to tear my eyes away from him, this gorgeous Greek God in front of me.

  “And tomorrow it goes live,” Niko says, raking a hand through his jet-black hair. “I’m so pumped. I can’t lie to you, Lexi. This break is huge for me. So I’m anxious. Nervous. I need to get this first gam
e out of the way, you know?”

  “You’re going to kill it,” I say.

  Niko lifts an eyebrow at me. “How do you know that?”

  “You’re passionate about getting it right, that’s why.”

  “Thank you for saying that.”

  “You’re welcome. But I have full confidence you’ll own that producer’s chair,” I say, referring to the seat on the TV truck where the producers sit.

  Niko studies me for a moment. “Do you know what’s weird? That feeling you have about me? I had the same feeling about you editing today. I knew in my gut you would nail it.”

  Butterflies shift rapidly in my stomach. Could he be feeling these same things that I am? That this man—this funny, sexy, passionate man—could be seeing me the way I see him?

  Silence falls between us. The door opens again, and this time, it’s two men with backpacks slung over their shoulders.

  “You guys done?” one of them asks, putting his backpack next to the editing bay. “I’d love to get started early if you are.”

  Niko nods. “Yeah, go ahead.”

  Niko introduces me to the guys—Brandon and Luke—and I shake their hands, too. I save all my files on the Avid, and I watch as Niko closes out of his computer, too. Then I gather up my stuff, slipping back into my rain coat, and I watch as Niko does the same, tugging his gray sweater over his denim shirt.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Niko says.

  We head out of the Total Access Total Sports offices, but this time there’s a silence between us. My heart is pounding. The butterflies are still fluttering. And I can’t believe he might be thinking the same things that I am. Oh, I hope he is. I’ve never met anyone like him, and I know he’s different than any other man I’ve met before.

  The rain has stopped, leaving the sky cold and grey. Niko opens the door for me, and I step through it.

  Now we stop on the sidewalk, facing each other.

  I will him to ask me out. Please ask me out. I know we could go to dinner and it could all go to hell. Or we could kiss—

  I allow my eyes to detour to his full lips for a second. And I strike the last sentence I was about to complete. Because I was going to say, we could kiss and it might be awful. But looking at his sexy mouth right now I know there’s no way it could be anything other than hot.

  Niko clears his throat, and I’m snapped back to reality. Gah, I’m losing my mind. This Greek God is making me utterly mental.

  “Thank you, Lexi. For everything today. And I’ll make sure your paperwork for payment is turned in tomorrow to Wyatt.”

  Oh. Right. Paying the help.

  So while I’m wondering what it would be like to kiss him, he’s thinking about my timecard.

  Ouch. That’s a reality check if I ever had one.

  I clear my throat to shake thoughts of kissing him out of my head.

  “Thank you,” I say. “For the work and the chance to do something I love.”

  Niko nods. A brisk November wind rips across us, and I can feel some hairs from my ponytail go free, sticking to my face. I smooth them back with one hand, and I realize Niko isn’t going to say anything else.

  We’re done.

  I swallow hard, trying to shove my disappointment aside. “Well, I guess I should head on home.”

  “Right.”

  I hesitate, giving him another second to change his mind. Niko’s eyes remain on my face, but he doesn’t say anything.

  And I have my answer.

  “Bye,” I say, forcing a smile on my face. “And good luck tomorrow.”

  I turn and begin walking toward my car in visitor parking. And I’ve never felt disappointment swallow me up like it is right now.

  “Are you going tomorrow night?”

  I stop dead in my tracks. My heart explodes inside my chest.

  I turn around, and Niko closes the gap between us.

  “Yes. I’m going with Kenley. We sit in Nate’s seats,” I say.

  “Um,” Niko says, raking a hand through his hair again, “well, if you’re going to be there, I could get you a credential to stop by the truck. If you want to, that is. Would you, Lexi? Wanna come by and see me on my opening night?”

  Chapter 7

  The One Online Dating Service Profile Question: What is sexy on a man? A tuxedo? Rugged and casual wear? A Speedo?

  My write-in answer: He’s in a crisp white dress shirt and suit pants and I can't even . . .

  I anxiously fiddle with the media credential I’m wearing on a lanyard around my neck. With five minutes left to go in the first period, I’m about to do something that is both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

  I’m going to meet Niko on the production truck.

  I stare at the TV truck in front of me, parked inside the confines of the Premier Airlines Center. It’s exactly where Kenley told me it would be, down some steps from rink level and right across from where the Demons players’ park their cars. You know, before she shoved me in this direction and ran off to the lounge for the players’ wives and girlfriends, yelling over her shoulder that she wanted a full report by the start of the second period and leaving me to conduct this mission alone.

  I draw a breath of air, trying to channel a feeling of being calm and unaffected. I’m going to meet an acquaintance, I tell myself.

  It’s that simple.

  Of course, it’s not every day that the acquaintance is a sexy as hell man who has pinned you to a bleacher mere days before, one I’m wildly attracted to and is more interesting than any guy I’ve met through The One Online Dating Service ever, but still. I’ll keep my expectations in check. It’s nothing more than a friendly gesture on his part to invite me to the truck, and I’m being friendly in return by stopping by to say hi.

  Simple.

  My phone buzzes inside my purse. I retrieve it and see I have a text message from Kenley’s sister, Amanda, who is like my surrogate big sister.

  Have you met the Adonis yet?

  Eeek! What, did Kenley tell Amanda I was about to go see Niko now?

  She must have.

  I’m totally going to kill Kenley when we get back to our seats.

  I’m about to respond when Amanda sends another message:

  Go in there and tell him you’ll take him on the audio board as soon as the game is over

  My face burns hot at the thought. Take him? I don’t even know him!

  And before I can even blink I receive another text, this time from Kenley:

  I know you are standing there staring at the truck. HE WANTS YOU TO GO IN SO DO IT DON’T KEEP THAT MAN WAITING

  I so need to get a new best friend and surrogate family after tonight.

  I start texting Amanda back, but now I get a message from CiCi, who is Amanda and Kenley’s mother. CiCi is like my other mother. And mother #2 has obviously been informed of the situation and is on the Niko train as well:

  You need to have Ryan and Nate keep tabs on this Greek One for you. I’ll check Tumble to see if I can find anything on him.

  I drop my phone into my Michael Kors tote like it’s on fire. Ugh! Why is everyone acting like this is a date?

  My phone buzzes again, no doubt with CiCi claiming she found something scandalous about him on Tumblr, or Tumble, as she’s fond of saying. Or Kenley is demanding to know if I’m on the truck or worse, Amanda asking if I’m planning to seduce him in the truck after they go off air.

  I glance at my watch. The intermission should be starting any minute now. Enough time for me to get on the truck, discreetly hang out until Niko goes to break, and then say hi.

  I make my way to the truck, climbing up the rickety steps to the door. My heart is pounding in my ears. I’m stupid excited to see Niko and congratulate him on his opening night, bu
t I’m also nervous, too. What if I’m bothering him? I don’t want to be a distraction. But Niko wouldn’t invite me if he thought I would be. He’s all about the Dallas Demons right now.

  And certainly not about me.

  I open the door to the truck and several heads turn and glance in my direction, but they quickly go back to work. The sound of the telecast blares throughout the truck. There’s a huge bank of monitors showing all different kinds of angles of the hockey game. People are on headsets, typing at keyboards, working every part of the telecast from graphics to replays to calling for a different camera shot. It’s fascinating but not what I want to see right now.

  But as I scan down the first row of seats in front of the monitors, I find what I’m looking for.

  And then my heart stops beating.

  Niko is sitting in the producer’s chair, watching the monitors with his arms crossed. I swallow hard as I drink him in. He’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt, opened a few buttons worth at the neck, which is gorgeous against his dark olive skin.

  “Joey, let’s go to that Johansson offensive stat please,” he says, his deep voice giving instruction to a crew member on headset. I watch as Niko studies the monitors and nods when the graphic he wants flashes up on a screen. “Perfect, thanks.”

  He’s smoking hot in that dress shirt. My eyes drink him in, starting with the five o’clock shadow shading his jawline, down to his broad chest in that designer shirt. He seems so authoritative and in control of this telecast, and his presence fills the truck. It might be his first time producing a Dallas Demons telecast, but you’d never know it from the way he was directing his crew.

  Then he lifts his left hand to his face, rubbing it across his jawline, and once again I see the Greek letters peeking out from his pushed up dress shirt sleeve.