Page 14 of Right Man, Right Time
I slowly nod. I’ve never met anyone who has at least not seen my face or heard my name. Vancouver plasters it all over the place.
“I play for the Vancouver Agitators.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and then they give me a slow once-over. “Like . . . the actual Agitators?”
“Yes, the actual Agitators.”
Her lips purse to the side. “Prove it.”
With a heavy sigh, I pick up my phone, ignore the texts from my boys, and type my name into the search engine. When it comes up with results—my face and Wikipedia info the very first thing—I turn it toward her.
She takes my phone and studies it. Her eyes flit up to me, then back to the phone. Then up to me, then back to my phone.
“Your hair is longer in person,” she says.
“That’s because hair grows.”
“You don’t have scruff in this picture.”
“Razors have to be used for something.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t see any tattoos in this picture.”
“Because they’re covered up. Jesus Christ.” I take the phone from her. “Are you really going to be that difficult?”
“Excuse me for wanting to make sure you’re not some impersonator trying to score women with a false identity of some poor schmuck who plays hockey for a living.”
“Poor schmuck?” I ask. The fucking audacity of this girl. “I have millions in the bank to prove I’m anything but poor or a schmuck. Also, you’re the one who came up to me. You’re the one who kissed me, so why the fuck am I the one defending myself?”
“Because in this day and age, you can’t trust anyone,” she says before taking a drink of her margarita.
“So what makes me think I can trust you?”
“Oh, you can’t.” She shakes her head and sets her glass down. “I’m a total wild card. Truly, the most ornery in the morning, especially after drinking. I tend to focus more on my needs than others, and even though I say I don’t want something, secretly, I always do. Completely untrustworthy, so if we’re done here, I shall retreat to my friend to see how he’s doing with his conquest to sit on Fernando’s penis.”
She starts to move, but I place my hand on her thigh. “Not so fast. You can’t scare me away with your nonsense.”
“Nonsense?” She dramatically clutches her hand to her chest. “How dare you speak of my life like that—”
“Cut the shit,” I say. “I did you a favor. Now you need to do one for me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, I can see we haven’t given good thought to the whole white knight thing.” She rolls her wrist for me to continue. “Please, regale me with your demands.”
Yeah, regale her with your demands, Silas.
I take a long, slow sip of my drink.
How the fuck can she help me?
My phone lights up beside me, and my eyes catch a glimpse of a text from Hornsby.
Hornsby:What the fuck are you going to do about the welcome dinner?
And just like that, a light bulb switches on in my head.
The welcome dinner, where everyone in the organization comes together before the season starts, and we toast to a healthy, successful year with ice skating, hot cocoa, and all that bullshit.
Which means Sarah will be there.
