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Chapter Thirteen

A urora

“Grab a seat,” Dan says, pulling out a chair at one end of the table. “Mr. Brewer will be with us in just a second.”

Mr. Brewer? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Tally takes a seat beside me in the middle of the long table. Two of our coworkers, Jackson and Derek, take their seats across from us, absorbed in a conversation about hockey stats. Even if I wanted to pay attention to their back-and-forth right now, I couldn’t.

There’s no way. Every brain cell I have is being used.

I force a swallow, ignoring Tally’s curious look. I can’t explain to her right now that Mr. Brewer is none other than Tate Brewer—the Tate that thinks I’m Kelly Kapowski. That of all the days for him to make his first appearance in the Raptors offices and introduce himself, he chose today.

How is this possible? How is this my life right now? I tried one time to have a good time and do what other women do, and this is what I get.

I get fucked every which way, no pun intended.

“Hey, are you okay?” Tally whispers.

My smile feels about as real as this situation does. I shake my head slowly from side to side.

Her face drops. “What’s wrong?”

She’s rightfully confused because just a little while ago, I was as light as a feather. My smile was genuine, and my outlook on life positive. I was floating on a cloud built of memories of mind-blowing orgasms.

Too bad I didn’t know that the giver of said orgasms would be sitting next to me, wondering why everyone is calling me Aurora. Knowing that would’ve dampened my spirits a bit.

“Aurora?” she whispers, prompting me to answer her question.

“Later,” I say softly.

My eyes are glued to the double doors leading to the hallway. Heat stings my cheeks, and I place my hands on my lap so no one can see them shaking.

I have no idea what Tate is thinking. I only know the look in his eye just a moment ago wasn’t precisely the bedroom eyes I saw this weekend. Moreover, I’m unsure how I feel about all of this. Why can’t I have a pause life button to give me a minute to get my thoughts together?

The doors swing open with a flourish, and I jump in my seat. Tally gives me a curious look before trailing my gaze to the man walking into the room like he owns the place.

Because, apparently, he does.

What the fuck?

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Tate says, looking like a snack in dark pants and a green button-up shirt. It’s the same emerald color of his eyes just before he comes.

Now isn’t the time to be thinking about that, Aurora.

I shift in my seat, willing the knot in my stomach to ease.

Air struggles to fill my lungs as Tate’s gaze lands roughly on me. It’s heavy. It’s intentional. And it’s chock-full of questions.

But as I squirm in my seat, feeling guilty as hell about lying to him about my name, and worried he’ll think I tried to pull a fast one over on him by screwing the owner of the company, I realize something: I have questions, too.

I level my gaze with his, only to receive a barely lifted brow in return.

“That’s not a problem,” Dan says, rocking back in his chair as Tate sits to my right.

I take a deep breath, searching for the notes of his cologne that I’ve longed for all weekend. He leans forward to place his coffee and a notepad on the table. It’s enough movement to fill my senses with amber and vanilla.

Lord, help me.

“Do you want to take the lead on this, or do you want me to explain why we’re here?” Dan asks Tate.

“Why don’t you do the honors?” Tate asks, his gaze sliding back to me.

“Excellent,” Dan says. “Team, as most of you have probably heard by now, Charlie McCabe has taken a leave of absence. There was a family emergency on the West Coast. We hope to have him back once things are situated, but right now, it’s up in the air.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jackson says.

“Where does that leave us in the rebrand?” Derek asks.

“We’re charging full steam ahead,” Dan says.

Jackson glances at me. “The visual deck just came in from the art department for the logo, colors, and mascot.”

“Charlie saw those come in before he left and made notes. They’re on my desk. I’ll send those to you as soon as we finish here,” I say.

“Great,” Jackson says.

“Do you happen to know when we can expect a final report from Good Day?” Derek asks. “We’ve been waiting on the market research for a week now, and Charlie said we should have it today.”

Tally nods. “Yes. There’s been a slight delay. I checked with Good Day’s project manager this morning. The data has all come in, but it’s still being analyzed. They amended the delivery date to Friday.”

I look at Tate out of the corner of my eye. He’s listening intently, as if this information fascinates him.

“I’m sorry,” Tate says, the corner of his lip twitching. “I missed your name.”

I bite my tongue. “Aurora Johnson.”

“ Aurora Johnson .” He says my name slowly, as if tasting it on his tongue. “You seem to have a solid grasp on what’s happening here. What is it you do, exactly?”

“Mr. McCabe hired me to assist in the rebranding of the Raptors, specifically community engagement. While Derek and his team are working on more robust marketing strategies for the community at large, I’m focusing primarily on the fan experience.”

“I’m a big believer in creating a memorable experience,” Tate says, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I steady myself, refusing to participate in whatever experience he’s striving for now.

“How do we convert an average hockey fan into a Raptors superfan?” I ask.

“How can we turn the gameday experience into something special? How can we go into the community and build strong ties with our neighbors so they see us not as a money-grabbing sports franchise but a valuable tool that cares about the community?” I smile at him.

“These are the questions I’m asking and hoping to answer. ”

“Don’t let Aurora fool you,” Dan says, beaming at me. “She’s doing much more than that. She’s also rebuilding our … what do you call it? Spirit team?”

I nod. “We’re leaning toward The Talon Team but haven’t finalized that decision.”

“Aurora is also McCabe’s unofficial assistant,” Dan says, looking at Tate. “This woman is a sponge. She soaks up everything you give her.”

Tate fights a grin. “That’s great to know.”

I struggle not to roll my eyes.

“Who’s the point of contact now?” Derek asks.

“We’re working on that,” Dan says. “McCabe’s departure blindsided us, but we’ll have an interim marketing director in place as soon as possible. Until then?—”

“Actually, Dan,” Tate says. “We’ve already found someone.”

I don’t know if it’s how he says it, if the words are directed at me, or if I’m sensing the bomb that’s dropping from the sky with a target on my lap, but for some reason, I brace myself.

“Really?” Dan asks, surprised.

Tate sits up. “I was just talking to Gannon, and we agreed that I’ll be taking over McCabe’s position for the time being.”

No, he didn’t. “You can’t do that,” I say before I can think it through.

All heads whip my way.

Tate smirks, lifting a brow. “And why not?”

“Aurora,” Dan says, giving me a look that silently chastises me. “Mr. Brewer’s family owns the Raptors. He can do whatever he wants.”

I paste on a smile. “I’m sure he can. But I’m also certain that he has bigger problems than the marketing department we already have handled. I flew home Saturday afternoon and spent the entire evening with Charlie, as well as part of Sunday, taking notes.”

“That’s fantastic, Aurora ,” Tate says, making a point to say my first name. “You and I should sit down together so you can share all of that with me.” He feathers his thumb over his kissable lips. “I have so many questions for you.”

I bet you do. But guess what, buddy? So do I.

“Does anyone have anything to add?” Dan asks, pausing for us to jump in. When no one does, he shoves away from the table. “Very well. If that’s it, then I guess all that’s left to do is to welcome Tate to the team.”

My stomach bottoms out.

Tally turns to me, her eyes as big as saucers.

Yup, Tally. That’s Tate.

“Aurora,” she says, gasping. “Is that …?”

“That would be him,” I say softly as everyone stands and shakes Tate’s hand.

“Oh my God.”

I round the opposite end of the table in hopes I can avoid Tate. Before I can get to the door, Tate’s voice rises above the footsteps of my coworkers leaving the room.

“Aurora, if you could stay back, I would appreciate it,” he says.

Fuck. “Of course.”

My stomach flutters, and I can’t decide if it’s from dread or excitement.

I focus on keeping my breath steady as the room clears. As each body leaves, the space is filled with tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. The walls get closer. The temperature skyrockets.

Finally, we’re alone.

As my gaze finds Tate’s, all I can think about are the things we did this weekend.

The feel of his tongue between my legs. The taste of his cum on my tongue. The way his hands grabbed my hips as he held me in place and pounded into me at the perfect pace.

I want to do them again. Now.

“So Aurora, was it?” he asks, leaning against the table.

I cross my arms over my chest, struggling to erase the vivid imagery lingering in my mind. “Mr. Brewer , was it?”

“Don’t come at me with that.”

“Why not?” I ask. “It’s not like you were being completely truthful with me, either.”

“Omitting my last name is much different from lying about who I am.”

“Is it, though? Because if you had told me that you were Tate Brewer , it might’ve set off a few alarms in my brain.”

“Or you could’ve just told me you were Aurora Johnson and not some cheerleader from a cartoon.”

“Would that have mattered? Would my name have meant anything to you? Do you sign every paycheck of every person who works under the Brewer umbrella of companies, and would’ve been able to pick out mine?”

He glares at me with a hint of amusement ghosting his lips.

“That’s what I thought.” I shrug. “This really is on you when you think about it.”