Page 8 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“Yes, but—”

He shakes his head when his phone begins to vibrate again. “Jesus,” he mutters as he furiously types out something. “I have to go. Sawyer’s been let out, and the lawyers need me. We can discuss logistics later or tomorrow. But is it possible? Can it be done?”

“I suppose so,” Jo says, straightening in her chair. “But where would we even start to look?”

The GM’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Within your team, of course. In this room are some of the people who scrutinize him the most. You’re all constantly watching his every move and spinning every word he says into gold. Plus, if it comes from within, we can claim it was kept secret to avoid a conflict of interest within the Sabertooths’ family.” He stands abruptly and claps his hands together. “I like it. Make it happen. I want three candidates in my email before you go home.”

As soon as Tom leaves, Jo takes the seat at the end of the table, and I use the opportunity to create some space between myself and Nick. He’s a nice guy and with his sharp suit, shaggy sandy hair, and dimpled smile, he’s very good looking. It’s not exactly a hardship to sit next to him. But he’s also let his interest be known at every single opportunity—most of which he’d make sure to create—and that makes it awkward to sit that close.

“Okay, I want names,” Jo says, moving over to the whiteboard and holding a pen between her fingers, ready to write.

“Can we suggest ourselves?” one of the women asks, unable to keep her snigger out of her tone.

Jo rolls her eyes. “You can suggest whoever the fuck you want. But this is work, not pleasure. Whoever Tom ends up picking needs to be able to keep Sawyer on a short leash, and be ready to deal with puck bunnies, and the media. Also,” she quirks her eyebrow. “It obviously has to be someone who’s single.”

I dutifully take notes of the requirements and pull up our employee list so I can see who’s immediately ruled out on the grounds of being married or in a known relationship. I also don’t think anyone with kids is suitable. And then there’s the fact that it needs to be a woman, and ironically, our department is mostly made up of men.

“How about Ellen?” Nick suggests, looking over at the woman who earlier said that Sawyer isn’t relationship material.

Before she can answer, I ask, “Ellen, are you still looking after your sister?” When she nods, I shake my head. “It needs to be someone without commitments. If we’re selling this, the person needs to be able to attend the away games, and hang on his arm at all the events he has to attend.”

“Absolutely right,” Jo agrees. “We also need someone who hasn’t dated anyone on the team. The last thing we need is for the media to spin this into some kind of love triangle and make people think there’s jealousy within the ranks.”

I’m so engrossed in cross checking and pulling potential names that I don’t notice a hush falling over the room until Nick discreetly kicks me under the table. “What?” I hiss, turning to glare at him. He tilts his head toward Jo, who’s looking expectantly at me. “Oh.”

She points between me and Nick. “The two of you seem to have a good grasp on what’s expected, so I don’t see a reason to keep the entire team here all night.” Making a show of looking at the gold watch on her wrist, she sighs. “Let’s break, and then you two can continue. The rest of you, back to work or go home if you’re done.”

As much as I don’t want to do this, I don’t have a reason to decline, so I nod. “Sure thing.”

Nick also agrees, and like me, he looks anything but keen. At least, it was his idea.

Sawyer

After being released from jail last night, I’m not in the mood for any more bullshit. I just want to get back on the ice. Yet, here I am, sitting in Tom’s office while he tells me about his latest plan for me. Maggie, my agent, clears her throat and nudges her head toward Tom, who’s still talking. Shit, yes, I need to pay attention.

“... so we think if we pair a fake girlfriend with some extra charity stuff, it’ll help turn things around,” Tom says.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I seethe. Is it possible I didn’t hear the orders from my GM correctly? Yes, I must have misheard him because there’s no fucking way he’d force me to…

“Don’t give me that attitude,” Tom replies calmly. The GM folds his arms across his chest. “Your behavior is now jeopardizing the entire fucking team, Sawyer. You’ve spent a night in jail. We’ve already tried fines and threats, but it’s clearly not working. So if you don’t want me to bench you for the rest of the season, you’ll agree to this and keep up the charade until the season ends.”

I run a hand down my face, doing my damndest to calm the fuck down. This is bullshit. “It was not my fucking fault,” I growl. Just like the other times I’ve said it; at the police station, to the lawyers, and to Tom, it falls on deaf ears. No one fucking cares. “The guy came at me. He broke through the fucking line of people and attacked me.”

At the time, it all happened so quickly I didn’t quite grasp how it happened. Now I know the guy snuck around back and mixed in with the reporters. That’s how he got so close.

“You’re right,” Tom agrees solemnly. “You didn’t start it, Sawyer. And I’m sorry it happened. But you didn’t have to fucking beat him.”

“So you just wanted me to act like his punching bag?”

Tom sighs. “Of course not. If you’d just pushed him away, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. Even if you’d only punched him once or twice, I’d be on your side. But that’s not what happened. You let your temper control you, and everyone saw it live.”

I get what he’s saying, and yeah, he’s right to some extent. But fuck me. The guy accused me of the one thing I’d never knowingly do. And now my GM wants to fucking shackle me to a fake girlfriend just to restore my reputation. “Do I even get a choice in who I’ll be fake dating?” I grind out through clenched teeth. Fuck me, there’s a sentence I never thought I’d have to say.

Tom grins. “No. The PR team has sent over three candidates that I’ll personally look into before making my decision.”

I force my fists at my side to unclench. “Just spit it out already,” I demand, wanting Tom to disclose everything instead of this half-truth bullshit I very much feel like he’s giving me. “What’s this really about?”

The thing is, I know I’m not a good person and I’m okay with that. Sure, I like to fuck my way through the puck bunnies, but since I always leave them satisfied, I’ve never had any complaints. So what’s the fucking problem? Yeah, I could do with being more discreet, I’ll agree to that. But that doesn’t warrant a fake fucking girlfriend just because I punched that dick last night. He had it coming. Accusing me of ruining his marriage was too fucking far.

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