Page 6

six

Dalton

This is what I get for trying to be friendly. I put my foot in my mouth and now Alice is pissed at me. I’m already battling JP to get Farrah to pick me, and now her assistant thinks I’m a prick.

In fairness, I am a prick sometimes. If someone messes with one of my teammates on the ice, they don’t have to worry about an enforcer coming for them--it’ll be me. A good captain stands up for his teammates. Coaches have told me I stand up too much, especially at times when we can’t afford penalty kills because I’m in the penalty box.

That’s me, though. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, but when it comes to hockey, my fists are an effective way of letting people know how I’m feeling. I can also be impatient. When I was a rookie, I ran my mouth like it was my job. I’ve mellowed, but I’m still pretty set in my ways.

I wasn’t being a prick to Alice, though. I was trying to be helpful. If she tells Farrah what I said, I’ll have to figure out who my second choice is to end up with. Farrah will be all over JP, and that smug bastard will never let me live it down.

Dara Houser wouldn’t be bad. She’s a model who’s famous because she has famous parents, but she’s twenty-four. She does a weird, pouty thing with her lips all the time, but that’s better than Cara’s selfie obsession.

I lie back in the sand, putting my knees up as I look up at the bright stars in the night sky. I’m not ready to go back to the beach house. I don’t want to run into Alice, and I’m tired of socializing with celebrities.

I don’t think of myself as a celebrity. I’m just a hockey player, and that’s more than enough for me. So far, Alice is the only person I’ve met here who seems down to earth.

I’m flipping through the new round of pictures Trinity sent of my baby nephew Micah when I get a text.

Rita: Did you get my voicemail? I’ll be there tomorrow late morning.

Fuck. The only Rita I know is Rita Kenney, the head of PR for the league. I push a button on my phone screen to listen to her voicemail.

“Dalton, Rita Kenney. The producers of the show are letting me come on set tomorrow with a photographer to get some content for socials. I’m bringing you some T-shirts and hats to wear with our logos. Give me a call back and let me know what size tumbler you’d like. I have twenty ounce, thirty-two ounce and forty-six ounce. They all have the logo for the foundation, but I don’t have room in my suitcase for all of them. Call me back, thanks.”

Grimacing, I sit up. I’m not getting paid extra for doing this show, and I’m not walking around in a league T-shirt and hat. Just the thought of Rita coming here puts me on edge.

Last season was my first as team captain, and it was rocky. Lincoln was our team captain, and he was great at it. He always knew what to say. When we got cocky as a team, he knocked us back down to earth. And when we were down, he built us back up.

Me? I fight our opponents. But leadership is more than that. I choked in the final game of the playoffs and we lost. Coming here was supposed to be a break for me. A way to recharge.

Now I’m going to have Rita up my ass. Hopefully it’ll only be for a few hours.

I get up, brushing the sand off my clothes and out of my hair. Between pissing off Alice and finding out Rita’s coming here, I need a drink.

“Better not be anything but water in there, Lorenzo.” JP grins as he passes me coming out of the library the next afternoon, nodding toward my stainless tumbler.

“Unfortunately, there’s not,” I call after him.

The producers nixed Rita’s idea to make me a walking commercial for the league, thank fuck. The hat she brought looked like it had been balled up in her bag, and it smelled like powder. I’m appeasing her by using the cup.

“There’s our resident motherpucker,” Alex quips when he sees me. “Can you close the door, please?”

Rita, sitting in one of the library’s plush wingback chairs, shoots him a shocked look.

“He better not be sleeping with the contestant who’s a single mom. Or even trying to. I said that was a non-starter during the contract negotiations.”

Alex waves a hand dismissively. “No, we’ve got someone else picked out for Hailey. That was just a bad joke on my part since he’s a hockey player.” He claps his hands together. “Have a seat, Dalton. I’m staying on schedule today if it kills me, so let’s get started.”

I sit in the chair next to Alex’s. He has a habit of clicking the top of his pen on repeat, and he does it as he asks me, “How are you feeling about things so far, Dalton?”

I shrug. “Fine. We’re just getting started, so I don’t have much to base an opinion on.”

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. “Right, sure. So tonight, we’ll be kicking things up a notch. The men will play a game of beach volleyball, four on four, and the winning four players each get to choose one woman to take out for a one-on-one date.”

“How are you at beach volleyball?” Rita asks me.

Is she serious? I play fucking ice hockey and I live in Minneapolis. “Uh...it’s been a while.”

“With two pro athletes on the same volleyball team, I’m confident they’ll have no trouble,” Alex says.

“And who are the options for his date?” Rita asks.

“June would be my preference.”

“No way. She’s only twenty and she was arrested last year for disorderly conduct. The league doesn’t want one of our players associated with her.”

Click. Click. Alex considers. “Well, I wanted to wait longer to ramp up to you and JP both vying for Farrah, but if you get to pick before he does, you could go for her.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Rita beats me to it. “How will you decide who picks first?”

“It’ll all be worked out beforehand, and then we’ll meet with those four men again before the selection ceremony to confirm we’re all on the same page. In the event two players want to choose the same woman, we’ll give first choice to whoever scored more points in the volleyball game.”

I focus my gaze on the rows of hardback books lining the shelves of the open two-story library. Hockey seasons are long and grueling. How did I end up spending a big chunk of my short offseason on a reality show where I’m playing beach volleyball to compete over a date?

This would be a lot more fun if my teammates were here. Even one or two of them. I’m not used to being on my own this much without my trusted friends at my back. Even in our offseason, we still spend a lot of time together.

“If you can’t get Farrah, you need to choose Misty,” Rita says.

“I’ll consider it.”

She drops her brows, her mouth falling open. “Consider it? Dalton, you are a reflection of the league. You don’t want to know how many hours I spent in meetings with the higher-ups, begging them to let me pick a player to be on this show. And I picked you. If you make the league look bad, it’s my neck on the line. My job. I’m fifty-three years old, if I get fired--”

“Rita.” I lean forward in my seat, resting my elbows on my knees. “I’m twenty-nine years old, which makes me an adult. I’m a representative of the league all the time, and I haven’t blown it yet.”

“Oh really? How about the viral video of you beating your stick against the ground in a rage after a loss?”

“That was more...passion than rage.”

“This show is a huge opportunity for the league. I don’t want you to just get through it without incident. I want you to become the most recognized player we have. The one people are rooting for to find love. We have to bring real numbers to the league to justify this. Higher social media views, higher merch sales--”

I look down at the ground and then back up at her. “I never agreed to any of that. I didn’t ask you to risk your job for me.”

“Okay, if I could just intervene,” Alex says. “I think we’re all on the same page here. Dalton, you like Farrah Reed, right? I mean, what straight man doesn’t?”

“Yeah, I like her.”

“Is there some other contestant you’re burning for that I don’t know about?”

“I don’t know anyone very well yet, but...no.”

He smiles and puts his hands out. “Then we’re okay! Rita, Farrah is your first choice for Dalton, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then let’s move ahead as planned. Rita, you can come by anytime or reach out to my assistant for updates. This is my fifth season doing this show, and I know what works. We need viewers to stay hooked, and that requires some drama. But this is all gonna pan out just fine.” He looks at his wristwatch. “I have to go. Dalton, get practicing those volleyball serves!”

It’s not a bad idea. And it will get me away from Rita. I excuse myself, planning to find JP and get in some practice since I know we’ll be on the same team.

I’m also hoping to run into Alice so I can apologize for last night. She wouldn’t even look at me during the yoga session this morning.

Farrah still seems interested in both me and JP, though, so I don’t think Alice told her what I said. I just hope she doesn’t decide to.