Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
He grins. “So, you control my public image.”
I nod. “Terrifying, right?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aaron leaning against one of the stately marble columns, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He hasn’t said much since we walked in, but I’m painfully conscious of him.
And the fact that he’s watching me instead of the room.
Nearby, Whitney stops to gesture near an exit. “Juliette, what do you think about placing sponsor signage here?”
My nose scrunches up. “Will signs get noticed there?”
Whitney hums, tapping on her cell. “Hmm, good point.” Then she brightens, clapping. “Oh! But this space over here is perfect for couples. We’ll do a few couches, don’t you think? Champagne, dancing.”
Garrett lights up. “See? Romance.”
Whitney concurs. “Exactly! The fundraiser is basically a built-in excuse to bring a plus-one. Show your girlfriend a good time.”
Garrett turns toward me, clearly gearing up to say something smooth—
“I had a bad breakup.” Aaron’s voice cuts in, flat and unapologetic.
He drops the unexpected confession like a wrecking ball.
Garrett slowly turns to him, disbelief etched across his face. “Wow. Way to kill the buzz, dude.”
I stare at them both, gazing back and forth between the two of them. “You couldn’t let us have the date night fantasy for five seconds?”
Aaron shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Stating facts.”
He’s as romantic as a funeral brochure.
Whitney clears her throat loudly to regain our attention. “Alright, moving on. I’m going to see what’s going on near the stage.” She gestures vaguely toward the far end of the ballroom, retreating, high heels echoing as she makes her escape.
I catch Garrett’s eye and he mouths, “He is no fun.”
I bite my lip.
Then I laugh when Garrett brings up my job again. “So, you control our social calendar outside of work?”
“Pretty much,” I say smartly. “Requests come in, I sort logistics, coordinate timing, make sure no one double-books you or accidentally sends you to three cities in one day. Supervise.”
Garrett laughs. “You want to be supervised, Bishop?”
Aaron shrugs. “Only if she’s the one doing the supervising.”
As if my involvement would stop him from doing what he wanted, I want to say, the image of him kneeling by that child’s bed flashing through my brain.
But also: Are they both flirting with me?
At the same time? And if they are, why is Aaron flirting?
Aaron hadn’t wanted to bang me when he had the chance, when we were alone at my place, even though I couldn’t have been more obvious, throwing down SCREW ME signals. He hadn’t even gotten me completely naked.
“Be honest.” Garrett’s eyes dance as he regards me. “Do I get written up if I ask you on a date?”
I open my mouth to respond when Aaron’s voice cuts me off. “Yes.”
Garrett blinks. “You’re not my boss.”
Aaron doesn’t even look at him—he’s staring at me. “You haven’t cracked open the employee handbook, have you?”
Garrett snorts. “No. Why? Is there a quiz?”
Aaron tilts his head, regarding the rookie defenseman, debating whether or not to squish him like a bug. “It says, ‘Don’t shit where you eat.’”
“So, what am I supposed to do? Ignore a beautiful woman standing three feet in front of me?” Garrett gestures toward me indignantly.
“Yes, dipshit, that’s exactly what that means.”
Garrett turns to me and lowers his voice. “For the record, we would eat at a completely different restaurant.”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes my throat. Garrett Storm is adorable. In fact, if I wasn’t already daydreaming tirelessly about the man standing next to him, I would be tempted to break the No Fraternization Policy all over again!
Maybe.
Whitney suddenly appears in a nearby doorway, waving. “They’re opening the service hallway for us—want to see where they prep the food and bring in all the equipment?”
Not really…
“Ooh! I do!” Garrett says. “I wanna see!”
He jogs toward Whitney, an overgrown puppy distracted by a bouncing tennis ball, abandoning me to Aaron Bishop.
It’s quiet between us, nothing but the echo of distant chatter and staff moving in the background.
He studies the marble tiles. “Be careful with him.”
My head snaps up. “Who? Garrett?”
That human golden retriever? Please.
“He doesn’t think before he acts, everything is on impulse,” Aaron says. “Even on the ice.”
“And you do?”
“Yes.”
I swallow. “I can take care of myself, thanks.”
He shrugs. “It’s advice, don’t worry. I won’t report you to HR. Sure you already have those policies memorized.”
“Front to back.” I cross my arms and give him a playful eyeroll, finally looking directly at him, from the tips of his brown boots to the gloomy frown on his face. “And why on earth would you report me to HR? You’re as guilty.”
But it’s not as if anyone would terminate his employment. He’s not expendable.
Aaron’s massive shoulders move up and down. “I didn’t know you were Declan’s sister—the other night. If I had, I wouldn’t have messed with you.”
“Messed with me.” I click my tongue, skin positively on fire. “That’s a fun way to put it.”