She handed over her phone and there it was: Hatch and me at the coffee shop. The cap was pulled down low, the bill shading my face. I recognized me but no one else would. I hoped.
“Maybe it’s all innocent.” It’s not. It is so not. “After all, it’s just coffee.”
“Perhaps. But Conor keeps saying she looks familiar.”
Conor? I think I’d met him twice in my lifetime. What the hell was this kid doing playing detective?
I handed the phone back, trying to keep my hand from shaking. All the more reason to stay away from Hatch. I was a pariah with half the Rebels org, I certainly didn’t want to lose the support of the other half.
“Rosie’s already got a date lined up, which is her standard response.”
“Her standard response to what?”
She grimaced. “She has a crush on Hatch. Or did. Well, it comes and goes, and I think she’s in the ‘goes’ phase. Which is good, because Hatch has been kind of moody lately.”
Rosie liked Hatch? I should have known this but of course, I didn’t know either of my bridesmaids that well. Since they returned from their travels, the last year had been all about me and my wedding planning. What a terrible friend I was.
“Does Hatch know Rosie likes him?”
She chuckled darkly. “He’s a man, so I’d say he’s clueless. There have been many stages in their relationship. She wanted to marry him when she was twelve. I think she kissed him in a closet at a birthday party when they were fifteen, and they both claimed it was ‘the worst.’ But just before we went traveling, I would catch her staring at him. She’s usually coy about it, but I worry about her getting hurt. And I don’t want to be caught in the middle.”
Neither did I. Thankfully, I was on a no-Hatch diet, and this new information further firmed my resolve.
“So, how did the meeting go with Ryder?”
I filled her in on the current thinking of the Rebels GM.
She looked sympathetic. “Not a complete surprise, then. I’m pretty impressed about these reports you’re compiling, but it’s not really cool that Scott used your labor like that and didn’t give you credit.”
“Oh, I don’t see it that way. It was good practice and got my foot in the door.” Except it didn’t really. Scott hadn’t returned my calls either.
Adeline didn’t push the issue. “I know you might not be feeling it, but have you thought about getting another job while you wait on the dream to happen?”
“I’ve been checking online sites. What I really need is something I can start quickly.”
She clapped her hands. “I was hoping you’d say that! I have an idea.”
Thirty minutes later, I’d had a phone interview with Kennedy Clark-Durand, who was married to former Rebel Reid Durand (one of the hotter, growlier players in his day), and ran a personal concierge business called Can Do. They hired people to walk dogs, do grocery runs, pick up dry cleaning, make restaurant reservations, and more for a coterie of top-notch clients. Many of them were Rebels players who apparently didn’t know how to use DoorDash or Open Table.
“Would you have a problem running errands for a Rebels player?” Kennedy had asked.
“None whatsoever unless his name begins with Dash and ends with Carter.” Though at this rate, it might be the only way the dick would see me.
Kennedy had chuckled. “The best thing about you, Summer, is that you’re unfazed by the Rebels shiny. You wouldn’t believe how many bunnies and wannabe star fuckers apply to work with us so they can get close to the players.”
“I’ve seen too many of them naked on locker visits to care about that. Plus, I can safely say I will not be dating any more hockey players.”
She cackled. “Famous last words! Okay, I’ll email you a list of errands for tomorrow. I just need you to send over a photo of your driver’s license and insurance.”
“Insurance?”
“Yeah, I need to know you have car insurance.”
I didn’t even have a car. “Okay, watch this space.”
After I hung up, I went into the kitchen. Adeline was on her computer using a music notation app and Rosie was making something that smelled amazing.
“So, I got the job.”
