Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I collapse onto Juno, breath ragged, my body still pulsing as I hold her close. That was fucking phenomenal and somehow, I know… the next time will be even better.
CHAPTER 21
Juno
The executive suite has a different vibe today as I enter through the double mahogany doors. Through the glass walls lining the corridor, I see people moving about with quick steps and intended purpose.
Janine looks up from her desk the moment I arrive. “Juno,” she says warmly, already rising from her desk. “You’re right on time.”
“Always try to be,” I reply, returning her smile.
I follow her toward Patrick’s office, sidestepping people.
She glances over her shoulder at me. “How’s filming going?”
“Fantastic,” I reply, glancing into offices as we walk by. I see the general manager, Oliver Kemp, bent over a pile of documents with his face scrunched up. “I need to schedule some time to roam around the executive suite. I assume you’re the lady to make that all happen.”
“Absolutely.” She beams back at me. “I’ll pave the way for whatever you need.”
“You’re a gem,” I reply, and tuck away an internal note that Janine seems to be the main cog in the wheel that keeps things functioning smoothly. She’ll have a good perspective of the front office workings of this organization, as well as shed light on the enigma that is Patrick Rowe.
She doesn’t announce me, merely gives a tap of her knuckles against his already open door and we step inside. “Juno’s here, Patrick.”
I step around Janine and I’m stunned to see Cherry in his office, perched on the edge of one of the guest chairs that sit on the opposite side of Patrick’s desk. He’s sitting in his big leather chair, leaning back with elbows on the armrests and fingers steepled as if he was in deep thought over whatever Cherry might have been saying.
One has to admit, she’s stunning in every way. She’s wearing a fitted cream blazer worn open over a silk camisole the color of champagne, the neckline cut low enough to draw the eye without technically crossing a line.
Her skirt is pencil-straight and dark—black or maybe a deep charcoal—hugging her hips in a way that I’m certain is intentional. High heels lengthen her legs, not so high they suggest she’s here for anything other than business. Everything tailored. Everything pressed. Nothing out of place.
Her hair falls in glossy waves over one shoulder, styled but not stiff, and her makeup is flawless—defined eyes, glossy lips, a touch of warmth on her cheeks. The overall effect is polished, feminine and unmistakably curated.
Patrick’s face lights up when he sees me, and he rises from his chair. “Juno… hi… come on in.” He gestures at Cherry, who also stands. “Have you met Miller Parks’s wife, Cherry?”
“Actually, yes,” I reply, bobbing my head her way. “At your party.”
Cherry’s expression is somewhat sour as she takes me in, and I guess she hasn’t forgiven me for calling her on the carpet with her bullshit about Crosby.
But I don’t want to waste time thinking about that, as I’m busy wondering what the hell a player’s wife is doing in the owner’s office. It’s not as if they were doing anything wrong, as the door was wide open, but still.
As if he could read my thoughts, Patrick clears his throat and rounds his desk. “Cherry brought me a unique idea and I’ve given it my blessing.”
My head swivels to Cherry, my eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “Really… what’s that?”
Cherry beams a smile at Patrick and takes two steps to meet him at the corner of his desk. She reaches out and touches his arm. “Patrick was kind enough to listen.” I don’t miss the way that Patrick takes a subtle step back so Cherry’s hand falls away, and I can tell that tiny touch made him uncomfortable. “What I’m going to do is form a community initiative. I’ll call it the Wildfire Family Collective, and it includes the wives and significant others, even parents or siblings. We’ll organize social events for the team, crowdsource help when needed, even make care packages for our guys when they travel. It’s all about family.”
As much as I’ve decided I don’t particularly care for this woman, I have to admit… it’s a good idea. Sweet, even. “I like it,” I say politely.
“I kept thinking,” Cherry continues, voice softening like she’s divulging a noble statement, “if I don’t do this, who will? Someone has to step up, and I’ve always sort of been the emotional backbone of any group I’m a part of. It makes sense that I’d take this on. After all, some people are natural leaders.”
Ah… there it is. The need for recognition. I nod slowly. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“And,” Cherry adds, adding another bright smile toward Patrick before her gaze comes back to me, “I thought it might be an interesting layer for your documentary. The off-ice ecosystem. The people who support the players behind the scenes.” Her smile sharpens a fraction. “I’d be happy to sit down for an interview if you’d like.”