I’ve called her Reesey, short for Reese’s Cups, since I watched her eat eight of them when we were ten years old. She pretends to hate it but I know she secretly loves it.
She hearts my text and sends back a laughing emoji.
I glance around the bar which has filled up a lot in the last ten minutes. Businessmen with their ties loosened. Couples leaning close over cocktails.
I finish my glass of wine and debate getting a second even though I’ve already decided I absolutely will not. Tomorrow looms larger with each passing minute—player assessments, team dynamics, and my father's scrutinizing gaze.
"Just water, please," I tell the bartender when he returns. I refuse to show up on my first day with a wine headache and bloodshot eyes.
A notification pings on my phone. It’s an email from the Blades' general manager, letting me know how to get my parking pass and security badge. It's real now. No backing out.
I’m reading another email when I hear a deep voice beside me. "This seat taken?"
I look up to find a man in his forties standing next to me. He’s in an ill-fitting gray suit and he smells like bad cologne and desperation.
"Actually, I'm waiting for?—"
"Just for a minute." He sits before I can finish my sentence. "I'm Marcus. I’m in town for a pharmaceutical conference." He waves his drink toward me. "Let me buy you another."
"I'm good, thanks." I shift my chair slightly away from him.
Marcus leans closer. "Come on, beautiful. Don't be like that. What's your name?"
"Elena." I offer nothing more, hoping my curt response sends a message.
It doesn't. Marcus inches his chair closer, his knee now touching mine under the table. "Elena. Pretty name for a pretty girl. You from Chicago?"
I move my leg away. "I need to review some work files." I pick up my phone, unlock it and pray he’ll get the message and leave me alone.
"You know what they say about all work and no play, Elena," His hand lands on my forearm. "Conference runs through Friday. My room's on the twelfth floor. Great view of the lake from up there."
I extract my arm from his sweaty grip. "Not interested, Marcus."
"You haven't even given me a chance." His smile hardens. "One drink. That's all I'm asking."
"Hey, babe. I finally got the car parked." The voice is deep, confident, and aimed directly at me.
I look up to find a man standing next to me—a man I’ve never seen before. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark wavy hair. He’s wearing dark jeans and a black leather coat.
"Oh!" the stranger says, reaching into his jacket pocket. "Before I forget."
I watch in disbelief as he pulls a pair of black lace panties out of his coat pocket and hands them to me.
"You left these in the car earlier." His voice drops to a stage whisper. "After our little... detour."
What the actual fuck is happening here? The stranger's eyes meet mine, an understanding passing between us. I give a nearly imperceptible nod.
The handsome man slides into the chair beside me, casually draping his arm across the back of my seat. He turns to Marcus with an expression of polite confusion and then returns his gaze to me. "Friend of yours?"
"He was just leaving," I say.
Marcus's face contorts through several expressions—confusion, anger, embarrassment. I fight to keep a neutral expression on my face.
"I didn't realize you were... together," Marcus mumbles, already standing. He grabs his drink and slinks off in search of his next victim.
As soon as Marcus is gone I hand the panties back to the stranger.
"Are you going to explain those?" I nod toward the lingerie.
