“Be careful. The season has barely started, and you’ll be with the team for several months. I’d hate to see you navigating that with a broken heart.”
“What makes you think that’s going to happen?” I fist my hands in my lap.
“He’s a hockey player? And a damn good one from what I’m reading here.”
“So? What’s that got to do with it?”
He hesitates. “Rebecca Piedmont called to rave about your work.”
Okay, still not sure where he’s going with this, but I’m feeling that need to preen a little. “That’s great! But what’s that got to do with Luke potentially breaking my heart? Which, for the record, I disagree.”
He leaves his chair to perch on the edge of his desk in front of me. “She thinks our coverage helped boost the image of the Sun Kings, which made a difference in their negotiations to become a farm team for Tampa Bay Lightning. And she may have mentioned they have their eye on Luke already. I have a feeling your article about him will help make it official.”
“That’s fantastic!” But in light of what Luke shared with me today, I’m not convinced he would want that. More exposure and publicity, for sure, which he seems to avoid like the plague.
Marty holds his hand out for mine, then pats it with his other one. “Fame and fortune change people. An NHL player is on the road a lot more too, and you and I both know ice bunnies are a real thing. I just want you to be cautious.”
“Luke’s not like that.” My words come out harsher than I intended. “I mean, he’s honest and real with me. Besides, he’snot interested in that level of exposure. I’m pretty sure he’d find that kind of attention…off-putting.”
What I’d really like to say is he’d see right through those chickas and tell them to get lost. At least I hope he would…
“Then just accept my concern as an overly cautious funcle, who doesn’t want to see his favorite person get hurt.”
I giggle at his use of my nickname for him. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I have no intentions of doing anything drastic.”
Mostly the truth. What I won’t tell him is that my heart is already at risk—big time.
“Good.” He releases my hand. “Glad we got that over with. This is why Clara and I never had kids. Too stressful.”
I try not to giggle but fail because I’ve watched the man juggle more challenging situations than a love-sick teenager. Which I’m not…definitely not a teenager, anyway. “Anything else you’d like to impart to me, Funcle?”
His grin returns at the use of his nickname. “No, that’s enough for the rest of this year. Just keep doing what you're doing, kiddo. This could turn into something big.”
A ripple of excitement surges through me. I’m finally beginning to see the fruits of my labor, and it’s even sweeter than I ever imagined.
CHAPTER 19
SOPHIE
“This is total sour grapes.” I sweep my gaze across the quaint chapel that was supposed to be the perfect setting for my best friend’s wedding. Water stains cover the walls where the brocade wallpaper peeled off in patches. The parts that hadn’t come off—yet—bulge in places where rain from a recent tropical storm invaded their leaky roof in a mass exodus. The once creamy carpet in the aisle looks more like a pack of muddy dogs ran through, and the dank smell will choke me soon if I don’t get out of there.
The plan for today was to decide where we wanted to place the flowers in the chapel, determine where the caterer would position the food in the reception area, and let the venue coordinator know how many tables to assemble and drape. Obviously, none of this is happening.
Or in time for Mia’s wedding.
She sniffles next to me. “They said the reception area is even worse. I can’t bring myself to look at it.” She lets out a sob. “And they said remediation alone will take at least a week and repairs several months. What are we going to do, Soph? The wedding’s in two weeks?”
My shoulders and my spirit sag. “We could reschedule.”
She shakes her head. “Ethan’s entire family went through a lot of trouble to secure flights and lodging. His brother is flying in from California and had to fight for time off from his company, which they only agreed to when they found out he’s the best man.”
“Those bastards.” I lace my voice with humor so she knows I’m joking.
She snorts andalmostlaughs. “Seriously…what are we going to do?”
One way or another, I will get a giggle out of her because I know it will help defuse the stress of the situation. “Elope?”
Mia groans. “My mother would never speak to me again.”
