Page 2 of Daddies on Ice
But I’m not a slob either. Dishes are always done, beds are made, and everything has its place.
My small desk sits in the living room and is probably the most unorganized looking area of my home, but I know where everything is and the system works for me.
After setting my things down on the kitchen counter, I pause and pull the envelope out of my purse. I stare at it for a minute. This is my last paycheck.
This money will have to last…well, I don’t know how long.
At least until I find another job.
With trembling fingers, I open the envelope and pull out the blue check.
No way! My eyes widen as I look at the amount. Bless Jonathon. He not only paid me for the rest of my scheduled week, but he gave me a nice severance pay as well.
Not tens of thousands of dollars or anything like that, but more than I expected.
Setting the check on my desk, I sit down and turn on my laptop. I’ve got a few hours before Becky will be home, so now is a good time to do some job searching.
After a few discouraging minutes, I go to the kitchen and pour myself some iced tea, then return to my desk.
Prospects for accountants aren’t too great this time of year, apparently.
I see a few, but they either want way more experience than I have or pay so low I’d be better off taking a job at a fast food restaurant.
A video pops up on my notifications, distracting me.
Wincing, I enlarge it and watch the Thunderwolves, the local hockey team, skate by while an announcer explains the team is making headlines again.
“This exclusive footage goes behind the scenes, into the Thunderwolves’ locker room, and you won’t believe what you’ll see!” a perky blonde influencer says excitedly, her fake lashes so long and thick, I wonder how she can even open her eyes.
The camera view switches to the locker room where team members are in varying degrees of being clothed.
Luckily, no one is naked, but there sure is a lot of skin to look at. Bare muscles, rippling abs, broad shoulders…I shake my head and lightly slap my cheek.
Is Ash there?Leaning closer to my laptop, my gaze searches for Ashton “Ash” Frankson, my brother’s best friend and the captain of the Thunderwolves.
I don’t see his cropped blonde hair anywhere, so I focus again on the perky influencer.
The camera zooms, a little too fast, to a corner of the locker room where two teammates are arguing. They shove each other a couple of times, then the taller one takes a swing at the other.
I gasp, my hand covering my mouth in surprise. This is all they need, more bad press.
The Thunderwolves have been in the negative spotlight for a while now, first with several players getting busted for using performance enhancing drugs, then the team manager was caught embezzling money from team charity events for his own personal use.
A second later, that familiar blonde head makes an appearance, but just long enough for Ash to raise his hand and cover the camera lens, effectively blocking the fight from viewers.
“Rumor is,” the influencer gushes, “those two players were dating the same girl but didn’t know it?—”
I close the video and lean back in my chair. I have no interest in petty gossip, especially when the Thunderwolves have so much more to be concerned about.
Time to return to my job hunt.
Hopefully I can findsomethingpromising before I need to pick up Becky.
“Come on, man, light the lamp!” Ash shouts at the television, telling the hockey player to score a goal.
He’s learning forward, too tense to be relaxing on my couch, a beer in one hand as he leans forward, elbows on knees as he shouts at my television.
Trent, my brother, sits on the other end of the couch nursing a beer. He shoots Ash an exasperated glance.
