Melting the Ice

Three.

~Lynlee~

POP

>SO? PICS or it didnt happen

LOT

>pics of wht?

LYN

>she wants pics of the players. prob their butts specifically

Lotti looked up at me, horrified. “Do not take pictures of their butts! Not even if Popps bribes you.”

I had to laugh at that. Coach brought us out of the locker room and into a conference room where we were waiting for the team PR Manager, Sylvia. “I won’t take any intentional photos of backsides,” I promised her.

“Good,” she sighed, going back to her phone. “This was the hardest deal to negotiate yet. Can’t ruin it with accusations of s****l harassment.”

“I know I write smutty romance for the masses, but have some faith,” I scowled at her.

“Oh my gosh, you look exactly like I thought you would!” an excited voice interrupted us. I turned to the door, where a woman holding a box stood smiling. She had a total businesswoman vibe with a ruffled blouse and pencil skirt. Her brown hair was waving gently over one shoulder, held back by a singular barrette.

She charged in and dropped the box onto the long conference table before coming around it to shake our hands. “I’m Sylvia Gibbs, Harthford Hogs PR Manager. You must be Lynlee Scott!”

“Yep,” I nodded, shaking her hands.

“Which makes you the agent. Charlotte Ingles. I have to say, I saw the contract you negotiated with the team manager. Impressive,” she smiled. “You tied my hands up pretty tight until your publisher releases anything about the book.”

“Gotta protect my talent,” Lotti smiled.

“Respect it,” Sylvia nodded. “Anyway, I am so freaking excited to have you here. This is going to be awesome. As Charlotte already knows, my team will be collecting some behind-the-scenes stuff that we can use later on. But I get the grand pleasure of welcoming you to our hockey home!”

“Thanks,” I smiled. “I’m excited to learn something.”

“I have some goodies for you,” she announced happily, returning to the box she brought. “What size shirt do you wear?”

“Medium,” I answered. She started pulling out all kinds of maroon, black, and white items from the box. Then she was tossing things at me. “This is a lot!”

“I have so much more where this came from,” she laughed. “We don’t want you looking like a crazy fan or anything, but you will be at games and practices, so this gives you some variety. Oh, perfect!” Sylvia tossed a jersey into the mix.

“A jersey?” Lotti asked.

“In case she wants to watch a game from the stands. She’ll blend right in. Full experience,” Sylvia smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvia showed Lotti and me around everywhere. Lotti was only mildly interested, but I tried to take notes about everything. It was going to take more than one tour to remember where everything was, but it was a start. This was a whole world to learn, and I was starting from scratch. It was a lot easier to make up my own worlds than this, but Lotti and I had a deal.

By the time we carried the stupidly large pile of team apparel out to the car, I was exhausted. And sweaty. “Food,” I whined as Lotti started the car. It was past lunch, and my stomach was protesting.

“What do you want?”

“Mexican,” I smiled. Our group chat chimed, and I knew Popps was trying to get an update. I pulled out my phone and video-chatted her.

“You look like you’re in a car,” she observed. “Done at the rink?”

I flashed the phone at Lotti, who waved. “All done. Look what they gave me,” I said, reaching in the back. I plucked the jersey from the top of the pile and showed her.

“Oh! Lucky b***h! Whose is it?” she asked.

“Um, number 23. It says Kingsley,” I told her, awkwardly reading the back as I held it up with one hand.

“No way! Of course, that’s what they gave you. Please tell me he’s your first interview,” Popps drooled.

“No interviews yet. Kind of got the lay of the land. I guess this guy is important?” I asked her. He certainly hadn’t wanted to be in that locker room when Coach Andersson was introducing me.

“He’s only their lead scoring center. And he’s one of the oldest on the team. He’s ranked like 25th overall this season. That C means he’s captain. They call him the Ice King. And he’s single,” she relayed.

“Good for him,” I said, tossing the jersey in the backseat. I would totally give it to her after I wore it once. I remembered her mentioning only having a few things for her favorite team because everything was so expensive. She would never let me help her, but I knew she would accept a jersey I’d never wear.

“Wasn’t that the grumpy one that couldn’t get away from you fast enough?” Lotti said from the driver’s seat.

“WHAT?!” Popps shouted. “I miss all the good stuff! Get any pictures? How hot was his scowl?”

“Want to meet us for food? Lotti’s buying,” I smiled, diverting the conversation before she could jump in on any trope fantasies. She was particularly fond of morally grey men.

“Since when?” Lotti scoffed. “I got you coffee this morning!”

“And you insulted my clothes and hair while doing it. Plus, this all gets expensed or whatever,” I waved her off. She knew that I knew that my revenue from sales paid for those expenses, but that didn’t matter.

“You do have to feed her, or she gets a little feral,” Popps added, making fun of me.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to kill you in one of my books these days,” I grumbled.

Popps and Lotti both laughed. “Wish I could meet you guys but I’m covering for someone this afternoon. I have to be there in an hour.”

“We’ll miss you,” I said, frowning. “Girls’ night soon.”

“I’ll get with your agent to schedule something,” Popps winked exaggeratedly and laughed.

We got off the call as Lotti pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me before she’d unlock the doors. “If I’m buying, this is a working lunch. We need to get some things ironed out, and I need you sitting still and focused.”

“Guac on my nachos or no deal,” I said, crossing my arms.

“No one would think you can eat the way you do and be that small,” she sighed. “Let’s go.”

I removed my cardigan now that we were in normal temperatures and happily followed my friend inside. Once we were sitting and our order was in, she dove right in. “So, any ideas?”

“Ideas?” I asked, munching on chips and salsa.

“Yea. What are we going for this time? Brother’s best friend? Friends to lovers? Workplace romance? Forced proximity?” she rattled off.

“I have no clue,” I shrugged.

“None? Nothing at all? Lyn, we’ve been gearing up for this for weeks!” she whined.

I nodded. “I’m well aware. I told you I wanted to meet some of these people. I didn’t want to push their world into a mold I needed. I know nothing about hockey. I know nothing about hockey players or fans or girlfriends or wives or anything else. I can’t put myself in their shoes if I don’t even know what style to look for.” I crunched another chipped and tried not to melt at the spicy joy spreading over my tongue.

“How long until you have something drafted?” she asked, pulling up her calendar. “Ideally, I’d like to hit a February release, but that means we need to start editing before Christmas…” She chewed her lip as she went into full planning mode.

I sighed. I knew she had the best intentions for me when we made our deal, and I liked romance, but I wasn’t feeling this one. It felt like I was just chasing the hype. “You know, I do have some other stuff I’ve been tinkering with.”

“Nope, stop right there,” she said, her attention snapping back up to me. “I told you, your largest purchasing demographic needs to be catered to, or we can’t get the publisher to keep pushing your smaller stuff. They need to see the numbers. This is where the numbers are. Hockey romances are topping everything right now. I need you focused on this, Lyn.”

My shoulders fell, but I nodded. Our waitress came back with our food, and I did a little happy dance as I dug into my enchiladas.

“Okay, now that you have some serotonin, I’m going to forward you some stuff tonight. Sylvia graciously sent over some stuff about the team so you can get to know them a little. It’s basic social media package stuff, but you can put faces to names and start figuring out what to talk to them about,” she said.

“I was just going to start with the basics, ya know? Why did you choose to chase a small black disc across ice as your career? What are you looking for in a woman? How good is your dental plan?” I teased.

Lotti looked back at me, horrified. I laughed, almost choking on my food. “I will send you a list of possible interview questions in the next day or two,” I assured her. “I will also record the interviews and back them up onto a drive for you so there is no liability anywhere. The waivers say I can use what I want without defaming them directly, so I don’t think it matters. Now eat your food before I do.”

We finished up lunch, thankfully dropping work talk and moving on to more fun stuff. Lotti’s brother was coming in for Thanksgiving, and her mother was over the moon. He hadn’t been home in three years, so it was long overdue. I’d grown up with Lotti, Popps being added to our friend group after high school. I had gone through the whole gauntlet of unrequited love for her older brother when we were kids, and I was luckily well past it. It made going with her to family gatherings much less awkward now that he knew.

When she dropped me off at my condo, she helped me carry all the Hogs stuff upstairs. I assured her I would put it all away as I ushered her out the door. Before I could get her to accept that her job was done for now, she shoved a bag into my hands.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“For your research. Thought these might help before you start talking to players,” she smiled. I opened the bag and pulled out a black and yellow book among the many.

“Hockey for Dummies?” I questioned her.

“Get to studying,” she said in a sing-song voice. She waved her dainty fingers at me as she headed out the door.

“Meow,” I heard Mr. Muffins call as he sauntered out of the bedroom.

“Yea, you and me both, buddy,” I sighed.