Page 77 of A Little Secret

“Of course.” I can hear the woman’s polite smile through the speaker. “I’m calling to reschedule your meeting with Mr. Deemwater,” she adds.

I tug at the collar of my T-shirt, then wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. Deemwater is the team’s General Manager, the guy I bailed on so I could driveFinley to see Drew. The reminder leaves me on edge, but I shove the feeling aside, answering, “Uh, yeah. Sure. When’s a good time for Mr. Deemwater?”

“Well, he’ll be in Lockwood Heights next Saturday. Would you be interested in meeting with him before LAU’s game? He could meet after, as well,” she continues. “He plans to attend either way.”

“The game?” I choke.

“Yes?” I can hear her confusion.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I clarify, “He’s coming to LAU’s game?”

“Is there a…problem?”

My head shifts left and right on reflex. Stopping myself, I lift the hem of my shirt and dab at my forehead. “Uh…you tell me, I guess?”

Seriously, is it hot in here?

“He simply wants to watch his rising star in action,” she explains. “You’ve been playing very well this season.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, but the tightness in my chest doesn’t loosen. “Can I ask what the meeting is about?” I cringe. “Sorry, I guess I’m just a little curious why he wants to talk to me before the season is even over. Are there any problems with my contract or anything?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that,” she rushes out. “Quite the opposite, actually. You’re a prime asset to the Tornadoes organization, Mr. Thorne. No off-the-ice drama, especially in the”—she clears her throat—“female department. Your stats are incredible, and I’m sure you heard about Caruthers’ injury before the holidays.”

“Yeah, I did.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “Tough break.”

“Yes, well, Mr. Deemwater and the rest of the board have been considering their options for next season. I’msure they’ll give you all the specifics at lunch. Does two o’clock work for you?”

I nod. “Uh, sure.”

“Perfect! He’ll meet you at Rowdy’s. Are you familiar with the establishment?”

My head bobs again. “Yeah, that works.”

“Perfect!” she repeats. “Nice chatting with you, Mr. Thorne. Go, Hawks!”

“Go, Hawks,” I reply, ending the call. As if my arm weighs a thousand pounds, it drops to my side, and I turn around, finding my friends staring at me.

“What’d they say?” Everett asks.

“They rescheduled my meeting with Mr. Deemwater since I couldn’t make the last one.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were driving Fin across the country,” Reeves interjects. “How’d that go, anyway?”

With a shrug, I move to the squat bar and get into position again. “It was fine.”

“You beat Drew’s ass?” Everett challenges.

I lower into a squat, my muscles screaming as I push back into a standing position. “Wanted to, but Fin beat me to it.”

I squat again, and Everett grins. “Should’ve known. Glad you had her back, though. Any idea what Mr. Deemwater wants to talk about?”

We’ve had this conversation. Made our own assumptions. But after I bailed on the last meeting, I didn’t expect another one. Not when Caruthers’ backup was on the ice the weekend after I got home with Fin.

Puffing out my cheeks, I bend my knees, keeping my feet wide, then squeeze my ass up again. “They aren’t gonna pull me from LAU.”

“Thank fuck,” Mav interjects.

Everett glances at him.

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