Page 43 of Worth the Risk
“Why do you want to know?” I ask.
“It’s just a question,” she shrugs.
I stare at her, cocking my head to the side. “There are only two reasons you’d want to know her name. Either you’re a reporter, or I’ve been set up by someone. Which one is it?”
I see the look of fear cover her face before she schools her expression. “Neither one. I just want to know her name.”
“Tell me what your name is, darlin,’ and I’ll think about telling you what her name is.”
She smiles, thinking I’m coming around. “My name is Michelle.”
“Hi, Michelle,” I say, giving her my best panty-melting smile. Her smile widens even more, as she inches closer to me. I know I’ve got her, and go in for the kill. “Alright, gorgeous. Tell me. Reporter or set up?”
“Set up,” she answers, before gasping and covering her mouth with her hand. “I didn’t mean that. Shit.”
“Cool. You need to leave,” I tell her, before closing the door in her face. Locking the door, I push open the bathroom door to find Hannah with her phone pointed toward me. She motions for me to be quiet as she pulls me into the bathroom. Pointing the phone toward the mirror, she closes the door.
“Luca, say the date and location,” she whispers. I do as she asked, slightly confused. “Now summarize what just happened.”
“Uh, some chick came to my door and said she was here for me, and finally admitted someone was setting me up,” I whisper. She stops recording and slips her phone in her pocket.
“Do you know who would be setting you up?” she asks.
“I have my suspicions.”
“Who?”
“Hannah, we don’t have to do this …” I trail off.
“Is my uncle one of the suspects?”
I sigh. “Yes. But I think it was most likely Woodward. He’s had it out for me since the end of last season.”
I rub the back of my neck before looking at Hannah. She’s staring at me with a cute smile on her face. “What?”
“Am I your girlfriend?” she asks.
I chuckle. “Do you want to be my girlfriend, Pix?”
She nods. “I do.”
“Can I be your boyfriend, then?”
“Yes, please,” she says giddily. I lean down and softly kiss her. No matter what happens, as long as I have Hannah, I have faith everything will be okay.
Hannah
Ihave no idea how Luca will play today, because we didn’t sleep. At all. Honestly, I had every intention of just trying to sneak in a kiss somewhere during the day. I just wanted to see him. Watch him play. Be in the same building as him. Getting an entire night with him was much more than I expected. I never thought I’d miss him this much. And when he texted me that he had a hotel room to himself for the night, I knew it was kismet.
Because the team will leave directly from Boston’s arena to head to New York for their final game of this away trip, Luca checks out of the hotel midafternoon. Since I traveled with just a backpack and no extra clothes, I’m thrilled when he gives me one of his T-shirts to wear. I find it extra special to wear something of his to his game tonight, knowing I can’t wear his jersey. Not only because I can’t be recognized, but also because the Boston fans are apparently quite brutal to visiting fans. I can’t take any chances that I make the news. Uncle Bennett cannot find out about this trip. I’ll tell him about my relationship with Luca on my own terms, and not because I’m forced into it.
Luca has afternoon requirements before he’s planning on napping at the hotel, so I take a tour of Boston. I’ve never been here, and I find I’m enjoying myself too much. I’m well off the beaten path, steering clear of the arena, in hopes I don’t get spotted by any Wolves staff. After a phenomenal lunch at an Italian bistro, I found a local bookshop full of unique books, knickknacks, and Boston-centered paraphernalia. I get so invested in scouring the shelves, I miss a slew of texts from Denver. The terrible terrors are on the warpath. How dare I take a sick day and leave them to their own devices?
I sigh as I begin responding to various other staff requesting assistance with something Lindsay or Jessica messed up. Lord, they are awful. Just awful. Somehow a video of the two of them arguing about which player was the hottest was uploaded to the team’s Instagram account. It only shows their feet, but I recognize their overpriced stilettos, and their vapid voices. A million views in an hour. I ignore a phone call from the GM, letting it go to voicemail, because I obviously can’t answer it while on the streets of Boston. Everyone thinks I have a debilitating stomach bug. The GM’s voice message is less than ideal. Evidently social media staff aren’t allowed to take sick days. Ever.
Someone from the marketing department texts, letting me know one of the interns flooded the women’s staff bathroom at the Sports Facility Zone and blamed it on the mascot. Yes, the mascot.
A different staff member texts to ask which of the interns may have been responsible for adjusting the thermostat to the arena, somehow making some of the ice melt. I responded and asked how the hell either one of them had access to the thermostat in the first place. Furthermore, what kind of setup are we rocking if one fucking thermostat controls a whole damn arena? Aren’t there any other ways to cool the ice? The response I get is that the entire heating and cooling system is a gigantic computer program, and somehow, one of the interns guessed the password before jacking the temp of the building up to eighty degrees. Fortunately, it was caught before too much damage was done to the ice.