Page 44 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“What?”

Sighing, I run my hand down my cheek and through my beard. “Don’t use that professional shit on me.” She looks taken aback, like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, so instead of carrying on, I hold the door open for her and wait while she locks up. “Where’s your roommate?” I ask the question as we walk down to my car.

“She’s visiting her brother for a few days,” Lucia answers. There’s a fleeting look of hurt in her eyes, one she fails to mask completely. Gail’s a sore spot, got it.

As we drive to the arena, the air between us has shifted, the tension easing slightly as we fall into a comfortable silence. It surprises me that I like it, which I shouldn’t. “So, uh... anything exciting on your agenda today?” I ask. It’s easier to talk with Lucia than being quiet with her. Because when there’s no conversation to focus on, I start noticing little things about her. Like how she tends to gnaw on her bottom lip when she’s deep in thought. Basically, things I don’t want to know about her.

She hesitates for a moment before replying, her voice tinged with nervousness. “Actually, I got a text from Jo last night after the interview. I’m supposed to meet with her in…” she pauses and looks at her phone. “… shit, in ten minutes.”

I glance at her. “Well fuck. There’s nothing I can do about that now, and we’re still twenty minutes away.”

Lucia waves me off. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She doesn’t sound convinced, which I guess is good, since Jo is a stickler for promptness. It’s better that Lucia knows being late isn’t helping.

“So what’s the meeting about?” I ask, curious as to why she’d be nervous.

Lucia hesitates for a moment before unlocking her phone and scrolling through something. I try to look, but she’s angling the device away from me. “She told me to be in her office at 9am or to kiss my job goodbye.”

Laughing, I ask, “Are you sure she meant it? Jo can be fucking dramatic. Trust me, if I took every threat from her seriously, I’d be guarding my balls 24/7.”

“That’s how she speaks to you players, not me or the other people on the PR team. She’s never spoken or written to me in that tone before.”

When we finally reach the arena, I put my hand on her knee to stop her before she jumps out of my car. “Do you want me to come with you?” I offer. “I could back you up if you think you need it?”

She shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thanks, Sawyer. But I think I’ll be okay. It’s probably nothing.”

Well, thank fuck for that. I want to be there and help her, which is exactly why it’s good she doesn’t want me there. I have no fucking business fighting her battles for her, let alone wanting to do it. And Jo’s her boss, not mine.

“Alright. I’ll talk to you later,” I say as we’re about to head in different directions. Then I think better of it, and even though there’s no one around, I pull her into a hug. “Text me how it goes.”

Her expression is stunned when she looks up at me. “Umm… are you sure? Won’t you be busy preparing for tonight’s game?”

“Text me,” I repeat. “I’ll answer.”

After parting ways with Lucia, I quickly make my way to the locker room where my teammates have already gathered. The atmosphere buzzes with excitement and anticipation of the home game this evening.

“Hey Sawyer, you ready to tear it up tonight?” Soren grins, giving me a fist bump.

“Damn right,” I reply, returning the gesture. “We’re gonna crush ‘em.”

Mickey nods in agreement, his expression serious. “We need to stay focused out there, boys. No room for mistakes tonight.”

I give him a mock salute, my mind already running through the game plan Coach has laid out for us. He’s a tough taskmaster, but he knows how to get the best out of his players.

“Dude, are you engaged?” one of my teammates asks me casually.

“Yeah, the internet is buzzing with your hidden engagement,” another says.

I look at Soren. “It’s everywhere.”

Mickey moves closer and lowers his voice. “If you want my opinion, you should just do it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The actual fuck?

Soren leans in, murmuring, “I agree. Give the press what they want. What does it matter anyway? You’re going to be the one coming out of this looking good. Besides, don’t divorced men get a lot more tail?”

Mickey nods enthusiastically. “Yup. I hear sympathy sex is better than makeup sex. Like, the chicks are so eager to make you feel good they’ll do anything.”

I run my hand down my face, mentally begging for Coach to show up so I don’t have to listen to this bullshit any longer.

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