Page 6 of (La)Crosse My Heart

Did I think I’d be out on the lacrosse field this quickly? No.

Preseason games start in just a couple of weeks, and if we’re going to make sure the Lancers—and Clark—have the best season possible, I’ve got to get to work.

There’s so much that goes into these consultations. Usually, I’m going in completely blind, with no information about the client, and I have to dig deep to figure them out. Then again, knowing Clark for at least six years before our paths diverged might actually hinder the process. If he shows up with his irritating attitude, acting like the same annoying guy I remember, I don’t know if I’ll survive it.

I let out a deep breath and remind myself I’m a professional. Icanwork through this and prove to the company I’m worth every penny they’re paying me.

My brain takes me back to the interview with Daphne. Why would she mention anything about a personal relationship with Clark? It’ll be easy enough to just get the job done and then go back to avoiding Clark like the plague.

Maybe he’s already had to work with people and has been able to charm them? He’s never really been one to do that with me.

I walk out to the field and sit on one of the higher-up benches, watching as the guys go through skills and drills.

Meeting Coach Martin just a few minutes ago helped ease some of my anxiety, but it’s still too early to tell how things’ll go. He’s fairly chill for a coach, which differs from the few I’ve worked with. Usually there’s a vein popping out of their head as they scream at their players. His is a different approach, from what I can see here, and I’m interested to see how the players respond.

I’m scanning the players, looking for who IthinkClark used to look like at sixteen or seventeen. That was my first mistake—none of these guys are little beanpoles. Each one, while differing in height, definitely has some muscle mass. They’re way stronger than I remember lacrosse players being.

I haven’t really followed the sport since my brother’s injury during my freshman year of college. I never got back into it after he stopped playing.

Coach blows the whistle and says it’s time to get a drink before the next set. The guys grab their water bottles, many of them pulling off their helmets and shaking off the sweat earned from the heat of the day.

That’s when I recognize Clark—dark hair, dark eyes, tight jawline. Also... way more muscle than I would have imagined. I swallow hard and try to focus on some of the other players.

Maybe Daphne had a point.

I shake my head. How can I use this to help Clark’s image?

One of the easiest ways would be through social media. I open my phone and search for the team on the different platforms. There are only three or four posts on each app, which is strange.

I search for the Utah Yetis and the Salt Lake Outlaws, the hockey and basketball teams under Stockton Media. They have a few more posts, but they’re edited in the same strange way.

It doesn’t take long to find Daphne’s cell number. After several rings, it goes to voicemail.

“Hey Daphne, this is Jessa Stratton. I’m here at the field working on a few things to help Clark. I noticed there aren’t really any social media posts or reels for any of the teams under SMG. Is there someone I can contact about working on some more branding and posts about the players? I know I’m only working with Clark, but this would be a team thing that could probably help any of them. Anyway, give me a call back when you have a chance.” I press End.

Did I say too much? Maybe I should’ve waited to give her the run-down for when she calls.

I do some research on Stockton, curious as to why a billion-dollar company doesn’t have the infrastructure set up to push their teams higher. I knew they purchased the hockey team four months ago and the basketball team six months ago, but this is a critical piece of marketing their team has missed.

The team goes back to their drills, and I watch as Clark’s movements are fluid and precise. If I’d had a fraction of that kind of athleticism, maybe I would’ve been better at sports. That’s one of the main reasons I became a runner. Some people don’t consider it a sport, but it definitely is. Practices are comprised of constant running or sprinting, while most other sports only used it as punishment.

I open my phone to make some notes, trying to get as much information on the page as possible. It’ll help once I’m working with Clark so I can figure out why he’s having such a hard time with interviews and media sound bites.

It’s not much longer before Coach Martin calls the group to finish out practice.

Now’s my time to shine.

I get up from my seat and walk down the stairs of the bleachers, wishing I hadn’t gone for a pantsuit today. It’s hot enough outside that I could’ve survived with a pair of jeans and a nice blouse. Maybe it’s because the Stockton Group is taking a big chance on me being here and I want to dress to impress.

As the guys walk out of the stadium toward the locker room, I scan them to find Clark.

“Is that all you’ve got, Denton?” I say with a grin. Teasing, lighthearted or otherwise has been our love language. But without the love part. There has been absolutely no sparks between us in the past.

And yet, I have to keep recalling Daphne’s warning about getting involved. If we’d had no prior relationship, I’d probably be very attracted to this guy.

He glances up, and there’s a second before I see recognition in his eyes.

“Jessa?”

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