Page 18 of Wild Blades

“I don’t know.” Sad eyes hit mine, and all I want to do is throw my arms around him and tell him it’s all going to be okay, but I can’t.

This is strictly business.

“We’ll all help you find it again, Wade, but you have to let us help.”

Although I’m surprised after Wade broke his son’s nose, Marcus didn’t fire him on the spot.

“Okay. I’m on board,” is all he says to give us the green light to get started.

I stand and almost run to him. I feel like I just won the lotto.

One article, event, interview, and media post at a time, I’m determined to make Wade a legend on and off the ice.

Toe to toe, holding my hand out for him to take, he reluctantly shakes it. His hands are big, and rough, calloused from hours of holding a hockey stick I imagine.

“You’re almost the same height as me,” he says.

I break eye contact with him and look down at my feet. “It’s these heels.”

“How tall are you?”

It’s a question I get asked the most often. I should wear a sandwich board with the answer on. “I’m five ten. Almost six feet with heels, give or take.” I sway my head back and forth, then realize he’s still staring at me. His bluer than blue eyes make my nipples pucker against the lace fabric of my bra, and I find myself having to inhale a deep breath.

Stop it. Where the hell did that reaction come from? I’m locking that down immediately. Just… no.

“And you?” I return the question, trying to tell myself I’m only asking so I can write his bio.

“Six-four. With skates on more like six-eight. Give or take.” Thinking for a minute, he asks, “You don’t model anymore?”

“I always dreamed of setting up my own PR business. It fascinated me when I modeled. Had a fabulous publicist in New York. I loved what she did for me. I decided that’s what I wanted to do when I retired. The constant traveling got tiresome after a while, and I wanted a change. I had already bought a house here in Edmonton, my hometown, in case you weren’t aware. This is where I wanted to be. I was ready to replant my roots.” Something Michael was not. “Also, my husband replaced me with a much younger model who I appeared in an ad campaign with, and he was my manager at the time too, so you know, it all became a little awkward.” I’m not ashamed of my past. It was reported in every shitty gossip magazine, and I refuse to shy away from the truth. My conscience is clear, I didn’t do anything wrong.

Wade’s eyes spark with something that looks a lot like sympathy, and I hate it. No one should feel sorry for me. My divorce was the best thing to ever happen.

Our stares go on for a moment too long, and when something squeezes my hand, I realize he’s still holding it.

I quickly pull away and brush my palm over the fabric of my skirt to straighten myself out.

Coughing to clear my throat, not that it needed clearing, I say, “Great, so I’ll go and break the news to your new team. It’s time to get to work.” I step back and wobble a little on my pin-sharp heels.

“Looking forward to it.”

CHAPTER SIX

Kali

I’m replying to an email at my desk confirming what time I’m meeting my girlfriends tonight for dinner, which we do every weekend, when I hear raised voices from outside my office.

It sounds like Lizzy, my assistant, and another much lower voice, a man maybe, shouting at one another.

What the hell?

Too slow to get up from my desk to find out what is happening, a tornado of rage fills the air as Lizzy yells, “You can’t go in without an appointment.” At the same time, my office door flies open so hard it ricochets off the wall, swinging back again, threatening to hit the face of the man storming in.

With lightning quick reflexes, he holds his hand out to prevent it from smacking him.

And I was wrong. It isn’t a man, it’s a man-child.

Wade Collins.

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