Page 31 of The Prince and the Puck
I wasn’t sure if Declan was qualified to judge whether PR ideas were gold or genius, but I didn’t really care. For somereason, his approval—his excitement—mattered more to me than actually accomplishing my goal.
The way he was grinning at me gave me tingles that reminded me so much of the feelings I had as a little girl, playing with this same boy in the palace. The boy who made everything fun, made everything feel possible.
“Let’s talk more about this calendar,” Declan said, one side of his mouth lifting in a way that made me want to trace the expression with my finger, maybe detour a bit to feel the scruff of his jaw. It looked soft, and I had a sudden urge to rub my fingers through it. Which I knew was not a normal thing for a PR consultant to be feeling about the subject of her public relations.
Unless you were, unfortunately, attracted to someone you were not supposed to be attracted to. And if you acted on that attraction, I thought, public relations suddenly became private relations. And that was not what I was here for.
“What would you like to know about the calendar?” I asked.
“So you say it will feature our butts,” Declan said slowly. “Are we going to have to be, um… Are we going to have to be naked for this calendar?”
“No!” I felt the blush climb my cheeks, and this time I couldn’t stop it. Declan saw it too—I knew, because his eyes tracked it up my cheeks, all the way to my forehead. Then those blue eyes tracked back down my face, landed somewhere around my mouth, and hung there for one torturous second. Finally Declan’s eyes returned to mine.
“Is it going to be… suggestive?” He asked, putting undue emphasis on that word.
“I mean, suggestive, yes. But in a way that is family-friendly,” I assured him.
“Not sure you understand the meaning of the word suggestive,” he said.
I did. I thought everything about Declan was suggestive. But I couldn’t tell him that.
And maybe I did need to do a little more research on what kind of suggestivity was appropriate for a calendar kids would see at Wombats games.
“Lizzy, I’m proud of you. These are fantastic ideas. And having a wombat as our team mascot? An actual live wombat at the games? That’s gonna get so much coverage. Plus, I think it’s gonna make kids really happy. And making kids happy is awesome.”
Declan’s face was open and bright, and it made me feel happy too. But then a little shadow creased his brow.
“Actually… I don’t really know much about wombats. They’re not, like, vicious, right?” His voice was heavy with concern.
“I don’t think so,” I told him. “Unless you get too close to their butts, I guess. But that would only be if you were trying to get into their burrow, I think. It might warrant a bit more research before we introduce Wilma to children.”
Declan nodded, and for a moment, we sat in silence, side by side. I shifted my gaze, staring out over the ice, where Declan and the other Wombats could do things on skates that I didn’t think most people could do on dry land.
There was the stiff scent of ice in the air, and this close to the dugout—or the bench, or whatever they called it—there was an undertone of something completely masculine. I also caught a whiff of Declan’s clean scent.
He must’ve taken a quicker shower today, I thought.
All of it combined to make me wonder a bit—about how I had found myself here, in this place, with this man, who was like an old friend but also a new and very interesting acquaintance.
After a moment, Declan turned to me. “Walk you out to your car, Lizzy?”
Little did he know, I was actually going to walk him to his car.
But it didn’t hurt to let him believe he was protecting me.
“Sure.”
CHAPTER 19
DECK
SUCCESS AND CELEBRATION. IDIOT.
The following week was a whirlwind.My mind was torn in so many directions, I fully expected to play like shit. I kept thinking about the call with my brother—he’d sort of insinuated that my dad might not be doing well. Or that something was going on with Mom? At any rate, I knew things at home might not be good. But had I given up my right to be worried about them?
If that was true, why had Lambert called?
And just the knowledge that he was still using was plaguing me. I knew I should tell my parents, but I had a feeling they already knew.
