Wildcat

by Rebecca Jenshak

  “Your car should be here by lunch.”

  “Oh right. Thank you. I assume I can call and make a payment?”

  He makes a non-committal hum. Not his problem. He’s done enough. I can figure out how to pay for it. I really hope it doesn’t wipe out my savings.

  “Okay, well, guess I’ll see you later.” I swivel around to head toward my office.

  “I’m glad,” he says from behind me.

  I glance over my shoulder. Leo sidesteps down the hallway, eyes on me.

  “What?”

  His nice-guy smile morphs into something far cockier. “I know it makes me an ass, but I’m really glad your date was a disaster.”

  Our first stop is Vegas. I sit next to my dad at the front of the plane and sleep most of the way there. It’s dark by the time we get to the hotel. The guys are in meetings or resting for their game tomorrow, which means I’m alone in my room and all too aware that Leo is somewhere not far away.

  I call Jade to entertain me and to fill her in on my new weekend plans.

  “Go out and have fun. You’re in Vegas.” She’s working at the bar and somehow waits on customers while also holding the phone out to FaceTime.

  “By myself? I don’t think so.”

  “Maybe ask Leo.” Her smirk is obnoxious, and I flip her off.

  Mike comes into view next to Jade.

  “Distracting my employee even when you aren’t here. Impressive.” He gives me a playful wink.

  “Sorry, Mike. It was an emergency.”

  “She’s in Vegas with a bunch of hockey players and bored. Can you imagine?”

  “You’re a hockey fan?” Mike asks.

  “Kind of,” I answer.

  “Her dad is the coach of the Wildcats,” Jade fills him in. “She’s traveling with them this weekend.”

  “No way.” Mike looks from me to Jade for confirmation.

  “Yep.”

  “You know, we’ve had a few players come into the bar in the past.”

  “You don’t say?” My tone is all sarcasm, but apparently Mike didn’t recognize Leo Lohan either because he proceeds to tell me about the time Declan Sato stopped in, and another time some guy I’ve never heard of bought the entire bar drinks.

  “No one else?” Jade asks. “Like Leo Lohan maybe?”

  Mike crosses his arms. “No, don’t think Lohan has ever been here, but he’s a great player.”

  Jade and I exchange a secret smile, but Mike gets called by a customer wanting another drink and walks off before we can tell him that Leo Lohan has, in fact, been there.

  “Well, at least I’m not the only one that didn’t recognize him,” I say.

  “How was the date last night?”

  “Fine.”

  “Sam said Chad was home by eleven.” She places a hand on her hip.

  “He wasn’t really my type.”

  “Your age, cute, nice, not a jock. He’s exactly the kind of guy you said you were looking for.” The smug smile on her face makes me narrow my gaze at her.

  “Yes, yes. I know what I said.”

  “It wouldn’t have anything to do with a charming hockey player who brings you coffee every day, would it?”

  I stare down at the strip lit up below me. “I hate you.”

  She laughs, a big, belly laugh that makes me smile despite myself.

  Eventually, I climb into bed and flip through the channels on the TV. My eyes are finally starting to droop when my phone pings on the nightstand.

  I grab it and freeze at the name on the screen. Leo Lohan.

  I smile, then pull my mouth into a thin line. No, I’m not getting excited that the man figured out how to work his phone.

  That lasts until I click on the text and read his words. Trying out this texting thing. Am I doing it right?

  16

  GAME ON

  LEO

  Ash drops onto his bed in our hotel room with a groan. He lifts the phone. “I’m going to request a wake-up call. Two hours good?”

  We had a light skate this morning, and most of the guys will nap or relax in their rooms until we go back to the arena for tonight’s game.

  “No nap for me today. I need to finish an assignment for class and take a test.” I grab my laptop and phone. “Enjoy, sleeping beauty.”

  In the lobby downstairs, I sit in a big, pleather armchair. Tyler is coming out of the hotel’s restaurant with a to-go box.

  “Hey,” I say as he takes a seat across from me. “Heading upstairs to rest before the game?”

  “No.” He flips the lid and pulls out a club sandwich. “I don’t nap, and Maverick is talking to his wife in our room. What about you?”

  “I have an assignment and test due tomorrow.”

  He nods as he bites into his sandwich.

  I’m reading over my notes, but I’m struggling to concentrate. I look up at Tyler. “Why is coming up with something to text a girl harder than financial modeling? I could ace this test, but I have no idea what to say to her.”

  “Coach Miller’s daughter?” There’s a slight smirk on his lips.

  “You heard, huh?” Despite her being somewhere in this hotel, I haven’t seen her since we got here last night.

  “I’m a rookie, but I’m not stupid.” His grin pulls wider. “You’re still talking to her then?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Damn. I owe Jack fifty bucks. I thought for sure you’d stay as far away as possible once you found out who she was.”

  Yeah, that would be the sane thing to do, but Scarlett makes all rational thought leave my brain.

  He holds out his box to offer me a chip. “Why sort of?”

  I shake off the food. “I’m texting her, but I think she might still have me blocked.”

  Either that or she’s getting them and making me sweat it out as punishment for not texting her sooner. I tell him how I promised to call after the first time we hung out and then let a week go by.

  I pull up the message I sent last night. I thought it was funny, but maybe I should have gone with another apology.

  “Let me see.” He motions with a hand, and since I have nothing to lose at this point, I give Tyler my phone.

  He snorts. “Funny. That’s it? One text.”

  “I didn’t know what to say when she didn’t respond.”

  Ty tosses the phone back. “Try asking how her day is. Better yet, go find her and ask her in person.”

  “It’s safer to text.”

  “Yeah, Coach is going to kill you.”

  He might not be wrong.

  I stare down at the screen. “Just… hey, how’s your day?”

  “You don’t have to use those words exactly, but yeah. Ask her a direct question about herself. Show her you’re thinking about her and not just trying to prove that you’re not an asshole who can’t work a phone.”

  Fuck. That’s exactly what I’d been doing.

  “Here goes nothing.” I tap out the text, asking her about her day, and send it before I can overthink it.

  “I changed my mind. I need something to do with my hands.” I reach for the food container, and he extends it, so I can grab a few chips. I’ve just tossed them in my mouth when my phone vibrates. My eyes widen.

  “Is that her?” Tyler asks.

  I nod and open the text, smiling as I read it because I can hear her in the single word. Good.

  “Now what?”

  “Ask her another question. What she’s doing tonight or what color shirt she’s wearing. Always follow up with a question, and if she asks you one back, make sure you answer it in detail. Nothing pisses off a girl faster than responding with “K.””

  “I know what she’s doing tonight,” I say.

  “Right.” He chuckles. “Ask her if she’s ever been to Vegas before.”

  “How are you so good at this?”

  “I did the long-distance thing for a while when I was playing juniors. Pretty much lived with my phone in my hand. You get the hang of reading the other person’
s responses and figuring out how to keep the conversation going. Right now, she’s pissed and making you work for it.”

  “‘Did’ as in the relationship didn’t work out or it isn’t long-distance anymore?”

  He gives his head a shake. “It didn’t work out, but it wasn’t because of the distance.” He stands. Guess that isn’t a conversation he wants to deep dive into. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  I lean back in the chair and tap out another text, Ever been to Vegas?

  Her response is quick and concise. Yes.

  I smile. She wants me to work for it? Game on.

  We get off to a slow start against Vegas. Jack and Ash are both sitting this one out. Our pre-season games are a chance for the rookies to get ice time, but it’s frustrating without our usual lines.

  Coach Miller steps closer to me behind the bench. “Let them hear you out there, Lohan.” He claps his hands three times as our line skates onto the ice. “Let’s go now. Let’s have some fun.”

  I push hard, calling to Maverick for the puck as two defenders close him in on the opposite wall. He sends it sailing in my direction, and I move to the middle of the ice, taking the puck straight down the middle toward the net.

  I flick it to Tyler on the wing, and he sends it right back as I line up and shoot. The goalpost lights up, and Tyler and Maverick huddle around me. Declan joins in, giving my helmet a tap before I skate by the bench to fist bump all my teammates.

  My goal shifts the momentum, and we win three to two. I’m walking on air as we get to the team plane.

  I look around for Scarlett. She sat behind the bench at the game, but I still haven’t had a chance to talk to her, and I don’t see her now. Is she not coming with us to the next game? Damn, disappointment hits me hard, and I sit forward, eyes glued to the door as the last of our team and staff arrive. Minutes before takeoff, she finally gets on the plane and slides into a seat across from Coach.

  I sit back in my seat and let out a long breath. Ash chuckles, drawing my attention. A quick glance around tells me all the guys around us noticed too.

  I power on my phone and get the usual barrage of notifications from my parents and sister, congratulating me on the game and my goal.

  But the cherry on top is a new text from Scarlett. Two words instead of one, Nice goal.

  “What are you grinning about?” Ash asks beside me.

  “She finally texted me.”

  “Ah, I know that look. I miss that look. I haven’t been excited about a girl since…” He shakes his head as if he’s trying to think back. “College.”

  “You had a girlfriend in college?”

  He points to my phone. “What did our dream girl say?”

  “Our?” I chuckle and slide my phone where he can read it.

  After he does, his gaze lifts to mine, and he smiles. “How sweet. I guess she was paying attention tonight.”

  “Not like she had a choice.”

  “Take the win.” He leans his chair back, then lifts his wrist for me to tap.

  He’s right. It’s an opening, however small.

  17

  BALLSY, LEO LOHAN

  SCARLETT

  In Arizona, one of the girls on the media team gets sick, and I fill in with the pre and post-game interview setup and teardown. Even doing the grunt work, it’s amazing to see everything that goes into it. The only downside is that I miss a lot of the game, including a goal by Leo.

  We’re staying in Arizona again tonight and heading to the final game on this road trip in the morning. My phone rings as I’m getting out of the shower, and the name on the screen makes my heart race.

  On the third ring, I swipe it and answer hesitantly, “Hello?”

  “Hey.” Leo’s deep voice answers. “Did I wake you?”

  “No, you just caught me off guard by calling. Ballsy, Leo Lohan.”

  “I was afraid I’d fall asleep mid-text.”

  I can hear the exhaustion in that deep rasp. “Maybe you should sleep then.”

  “I’m not playing tomorrow. Besides, I wanted to hear you congratulate me on my goal tonight.”

  “Wow,” I say with a laugh. His responding deep chuckle makes me smile. “Congratulations. I saw a replay.”

  “I heard they had you in the interview room. Man, I hate that room. Though, if I’d known you were working it tonight, I might have offered myself up.”

  I’m silent, unsure what to say, and a little scared to fall into easy conversation so quickly. This can’t happen, and talking to him is just going to make it harder.

  “What room are you in?” he asks.

  “I’m not telling you that.” I pull on shorts and a T-shirt while holding the phone to my ear.

  “I’m not going to break in. I might want to bring coffee in the morning.”

  My stomach flutters. “I have a coffee machine in my room.”

  “It isn’t the same.”

  He’s right about that. “Room three oh three.”

  “We’re on the same floor. I’m in three forty two.”

  He’s so close.

  “My dad is next door.”

  “Right,” he says, then falls quiet.

  “You must be tired.” I fake a yawn. “I know I am.”

  He emits a low, quiet chuckle. “Kicking me off the phone already?”

  I don’t answer.

  “What are you doing when we get back tomorrow night?”

  “Sleeping.” We’re not set to arrive back in Minnesota until midnight.

  “Monday?”

  “I’m working.”

  “You don’t get the day off with the rest of us?”

  “I’m not working at the arena.”

  “Oh. The bar?”

  “Sort of. Mike has a liquor rep that needed someone to do a promotion for a new flavored vodka. It’s just for a few hours at this new paintball bar downtown.” I think he feels bad for not giving me more hours at the bar. Regardless, I appreciate it.

  “I’ve heard of that place. Sounds awesome. What about after?”

  “You have a game Tuesday.”

  “Keeping track of my schedule?”

  “Your schedule is my job.”

  His laughter makes me giddy.

  “Go out with me Monday night.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? I used my phone and everything.”

  “Because I don’t date athletes.”

  “What about college guys who play hockey to pay the bills?” A quiet knock on my door follows his question.

  My pulse races as I pad to the door and open it a crack. There he is. Phone to his ear, Leo rests his free hand on the wall and stares at me with a breathtaking look that makes goosebumps dot my arm.

  I drop my phone and open the door wider. “You can’t be here.”

  “I know,” he says. “I just wanted to say good night in person.”

  My heart lurches as he takes my hand and interlaces our fingers.

  “Leo, I—” I start, then swallow. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “I know.” A pained expression crosses his face. He runs his thumb along my index finger. “Night, Scarlett.”

  “Night, Leo.”

  In the morning, there’s coffee waiting outside my door.

  The last day of our trip is uneventful. I hate myself a little for admitting this, but it isn’t nearly as exciting to watch the team when Leo isn’t playing. We get back late Sunday, and I don’t hear from Leo again via text or phone call.

  Monday afternoon, I get to the paintball bar fifteen minutes early with two army-sized duffel bags. One is filled with bottles of vodka, and the other has shirts, hats, buttons, and other merchandise.

  The bar is an old warehouse and just opened this summer. Inside, people are playing paintball on the right side, beyond a metal wall. The sound of playful screams and laughter drifts out. Music plays on the left in the bar area, and there’s a patio behind that.

  After I find the manager an
d she points me to a table outside on the patio where I can set up, I get to work. I have everything out and ready to go and am digging for the uniform, if we can call it that—black spandex shorts and a tight tank top with the logo splashed across the front.

  I start toward the bathroom only to find a CLOSED FOR CLEANING sign and a woman inside talking on the phone while she mops the floor. She speaks in Spanish, I think. I don’t understand her words, but the shooing motion she makes with her hand is crystal clear.

  With a sigh, I glance down at my skirt and T-shirt.

  Leo steps into my path as I’m deciding between going back out to my car or doing some quick under/over changing maneuvers right here in the bar.

  My breath catches, and I freeze in my spot. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d come try the…” He squints. “What kind of vodka did you say you were promoting?”

  “I didn’t say.”

  “Are you already done?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I’m just getting started if I can find somewhere to change.”

  This is surreal. Leo Lohan tracked me down at my job.

  “Well, come on. You can grab some free merch before it gets busy.”

  He follows me outside and looks over the table. He holds up a bottle. “Caramel apple vodka? That sounds disgusting.”

  It really, really does.

  “Better keep those thoughts to yourself.” I take one of the hats and plop it on his head. It’s a really ugly hat, but on him, it doesn’t look bad at all. “Make yourself useful and keep lookout.”

  I shimmy the black spandex up and under my skirt. Leo’s brows rise. “You’re changing out here?” He looks around.

  “The bathroom is closed.” I unzip the skirt and push it down my legs. Leo keeps looking at me. “You’re a terrible lookout.”

  “I think I misunderstood what a lookout does.”

  Laughing, I pull off my T-shirt and toss it in Leo’s face, then tug the tank down over my boobs. It’s so tight it’s squishing the girls. I pull the material down over my stomach and then reach in and rearrange my boobs, so they peek out over the top.