Page 38 of The Player's Club
“Huh.”
A tall woman in her midfifties, Andrea Sterling gave off an air of “just try to fuck with me” that often intimidated people. When I’d first met her five years ago, she’d taken one look at me and said that she didn’t sign hockey players because they were too much of a pain. I’d somehow convinced her otherwise.
And up until the last few months, I’d kept up that end of my bargain. When she’d found out about the rumor going around about me sleeping with a married woman, she’d given me an earful, to say the least.
Andrea opened my fridge and then gasped. “Cole Mackenzie! Do you have ingredientsin here?”
Now, I was embarrassed. “I can cook,” I protested.
That elicited a laugh. “Since when? Didn’t you nearly burn down a hotel trying to make Easy Mac one time?”
I growled under my breath. “That was years ago.”
“Try six months ago.” Andrea chortled, shaking her head. She shut my fridge, but not before snagging a can of sparkling water. “And La Croix? Who’s the lucky girl? And please don’t tell me she’s married, or I’m going to murder you for real this time.”
I wasn’t about to tell Andrea about Elodie, and most definitely not about the contract. The contract that had yet to be signed even though it’d been a week since I’d flown Elodie and her best friend Hannah to Denver for the game. I’d been so sure that Elodie would sign it, but she’d gone radio silent since we’d seen each other last. I’d gone out of town for another game and then for a photo shoot on location. We’d texted a few times, but I could tell that Elodie was keeping her distance. I just couldn’t figure out why. I hoped like hell she wasn’t having second thoughts.
“Mmm, so it is a woman.” Andrea sat down at my dining room table with a smile. “Is she the one who was in the VIP box at the Blades game?”
Shit. I should’ve known she’d be onto that.
I scowled. “How did you know about that?”
“Darling boy, I know everything.” When I just kept glaring, she shrugged. “You know Hugh. He’s got a big mouth.”
Hugh was one of her assistants who followed the team to away games on occasion. He also loved to gossip, which I was fairly certain was the reason Andrea had hired him in the first place.
“There might be a woman,” I hedged.
“Is she single?”
“Yes, Andrea, she’s single.” Thank God she got rid of her boyfriend, at least.
“Excellent. You dating a nice, unmarried lady would do wonders for your image.”
“And last time I checked, you weren’t my publicist.”
Andrea waved a hand. “Your image and reputation go hand-in-hand with my ability to get you all that nice money you’re earning.”
I couldn’t argue with her there. Andrea was a total shark when it came to her clients. The Blades had tried to lowball me when I’d first been about to sign on, and she’d gone to bat for me with a ruthlessness that I’d never seen any woman display.
Growing up in rural Idaho, women like my mom tended to be softer and less direct. Mom had once described being a preacher’s wife as being the neck that swiveled the head of the family back and forth. Your dad just thinks he’s in charge, she’d said more than once after Dad had huffed and puffed about something.
Andrea, though—she didn’t use honey to attract flies. She chased those flies down and smashed them with her fist.
“You do seem preoccupied,” Andrea said, studying me. “Which means you must really like this woman.”
I groaned. “Give it a rest, will you?”
“I hear frustration in your tone. I’m guessing that means she’s giving you the runaround? Oh, I like her already.”
To my relief, the doorbell rang, interrupting this line of inquiry. When I opened the door to find none other than Elodie on my doorstep, my brain short-circuited.
“What are you doing here?” That was the first thing that came out of my mouth. Fucking hell, Mackenzie.
Elodie’s smile wilted. “Um, I thought we should talk . . .”
Her gaze moved over my shoulder, and I realized that Andrea was behind me now.