Page 40 of Pucking One Night Stand
I tilt my head, tapping my finger against the side of the keyboard. “That’s… interesting.”
What I really mean is: So, how’s this one gonna work?
Valerie starts typing again. “He should be meeting you in your office in about half an hour to go over everything with you.”
Of course, he should.
“I’m on it.” I snap my laptop shut and stand, adjusting my bag on my shoulder, completely forgetting about my iced Americano. Glance at the clock. Thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes with Blake Mitchell.
Shit.
“Look,” Valerie says, her tone softening again. “I know you’re new here, but good luck. And I’m counting on you.”
I nod, mouth forming a smile that’s maybe five percent sincere, and walk out of her office.
Good luck... Yeah. I'm going to need it.
I power-stride down the corridor like I’ve got a fire to put out, laptop clutched tight to my side, stilettos sharp enough to wound.
Out of all the damn players, it had to be him. Blake Mitchell.
Because clearly, the universe likes a good joke. Just be professional and forget all about that night. The heat. The tension. The stupid way my breath caught when he touched my—
Nope. Not going there. Brain, shut it down. Focus. Press event, interviews, social strategy. That’s all that matters now.
I barely have time to process before I spot Riley pacing outside my office, casually scrolling through her tablet.
“Quick, Riley! Get in here. I need you.”
She looks up, instantly catching the tone, and moves fast. She slips into my office with me, the door shutting quietly behind us.
“What’s going on?”
I drop my laptop on the desk and blow out a breath like it’ll somehow cool the flames already licking up my insides. “Big news. Blake Mitchell is the Aces’ new captain.”
Riley blinks like I just told her unicorns exist. “Seriously? That’s… unexpected. How’s he taking it?”
“No idea. He’ll be in here in about twenty minutes.” I pull out my chair and sit, fingers already flying across the keyboard. “So, that means we need to get moving now. Press event, media coordination, interviews, social campaigns, the whole nine yards.”
Riley’s already swiping to a new note on her tablet, thumbs poised for war.
“First,” I say, not looking up. “We need Musa, Gretchen, and Holly working on a video package, highlights of Blake’s best moments, leadership on ice, and behind-the-scenes clips. We need something that sells him as captain.”
“Yeah, visuals will be key,” Riley types fast. “Fans will need to feel the shift. Plus, he’s certainly got the looks.” She glances up at me with a too-innocent smile.
I don’t take the bait. “Um… yes, well. Next, Tarquin and Suzanna in PR need to finalize the official announcement statement. It has to frame Blake as the natural choice, why him, what he brings, why he fits.”
“Good call. It’ll set the narrative right from the start.”
I nod, flipping through a few tabs. “Then Calam needs to get new promo shots—studio and candid locker-room images. We’ll need material for social media, press releases, and interviews.”
“Agreed,” Riley says, not missing a beat. “It needs to feel polished but personal. Plus, the fans love him.”
“Andrew in PR will coordinate media requests, interviews, feature pieces, and podcasts. We need to make sure Blake’s schedule doesn’t overwhelm him.”
“Definitely. Keeping things structured will be huge.”
