Page 10

Chapter

Ten

Grace

The boardroom at Heads Up Alberta was functional, nothing flashy—grey carpeting, a long oak table, a TV mounted on the wall, and a few framed photos of past events hanging neatly in a row. They clearly weren’t some massive corporate operation. It was a small office with few staff. Grace read the mission statement on the wall.

“Provide emotional, physical, and monetary support for families dealing with the lifelong effects of traumatic brain injuries.”

The director, Michael Russo, stood and introduced himself as she entered—mid-fifties, solid build. She wouldn’t have staked her life savings on it, but she was betting he was a former hockey player. He looked the part. Well, all except the missing teeth.

“Hi.” Grace shook his hand, then stretched her arm to greet the woman sitting beside him. Michael introduced her as Lucy, their fundraising coordinator. She had sharp eyes, dark curls tied back in a bun, and a laptop already open in front of her.

“I’m Devin, the community outreach manager.” The second man stood and rounded the table to shake her hand. He looked young, maybe in his mid-twenties, and had round wire-rimmed glasses reminiscent of a character from Harry Potter.

“Did André ditch you?” Michael grinned as he sat back in his rolling chair.

Grace laughed. “No, he?—”

“Was just parking.” André swept into the room with a grin. He was fully dressed now, his jacket on over his T-shirt. Grace groaned internally. She hadn’t brought his winter coat. That was not an oversight, she just hadn’t planned on seeing him this morning.

Michael pressed his hands into the table top. “André, thanks for putting this together. And Grace, we appreciate you being here.” He sat and opened the folder in front of him, glancing around the table. “First off, I want to thank you all for making this happen. I know the logistics of something like this can get complicated, but if we do it right, it’s going to make a real impact.”

Lucy leaned in, her excitement obvious. “Have we talked funding goals?”

Michael shook his head. “Not formally.”

She turned to André. “I’m not sure if this is in the ballpark, but my goal would be to raise at least two hundred and fifty thousand, ideally more. That will make a big dent in our annual goals.”

André nodded. “I think it’s high but not unrealistic. We’ve got some big names. We’ll have player interviews, some media spots leading up to the game. We’ll also auction off jerseys, equipment, signed memorabilia—all of that goes straight to the foundation.”

Michael turned to him. “And you’re good with managing that?”

André nodded. “Yeah, I’ve already got contacts for it. We’ve already got verbal agreements for sponsorships, we’re in the process of getting local businesses involved. Ticket sales will be a major factor too, so we need to make it a real event—something people want to show up for.”

Grace steepled her fingers. “This is happening when?”

“End of March. Leading into playoffs. Take advantage of the hype.”

Grace sat back, arms crossed loosely as she observed. André wasn’t here as a representative, he was fully involved in the organization of this event. He was well-versed. Confident. A very different version of the flirty André she’d met at the hockey game and had seen in the truck that morning.

She fingered the button he’d sewn back on her shirt. André noticed. His eyebrow lifted, and Grace quickly dropped her hand to her lap, trying to banish the image of him sitting shirtless in his truck with his teeth over the thread.

Michael tapped his pen on the table. “Sponsorships are great, but our main concern is making sure all proceeds benefit the foundation. We don’t want things getting tied up in unnecessary overhead.”

André nodded. “Yeah, that’s why we’re keeping the sponsorship structure simple. Any corporate partners donating directly to the charity get a tax deduction, like any other charitable contribution. But the sponsorships tied to game promotions—jersey logos, rink boards, ads—those need to be classified differently to avoid hitting the taxable advertising threshold.”

Lucy sat up straighter. “You’ve looked into the tax classifications?”

André shrugged. “Yep. Sponsorship revenue can be considered a business expense instead of a donation if it’s promotional, which means they write it off differently. But if we package it right—tie the exposure to a fundraising pledge instead of straight-up advertising—it keeps us in the clear. And keeps the donors happy.”

Grace wanted to ask why André thought he needed her there. He knew what he was talking about. She had nothing else to contribute, which was not what she’d anticipated, and that gave her pause. Something pinched behind her ribs. She’d judged André. Hard. Now, here he was sewing on buttons and organizing charity events.

But . . .

She thought of Troy. He was successful, wasn’t he? Capable? Smart? And he was still a bit of a misogynistic asshole, if a frustratingly loveable one.

Michael crossed a leg over his knee. “That’s exactly the kind of foresight we need. The last thing we want is a paperwork nightmare after the fact.”

André ran a hand over his jaw. “I’ll work with our contacts to make sure every business understands the benefit structure before they sign on. If we make it easy for them, we’ll bring in bigger sponsors.”

Lucy nodded. “And the auction? Any concerns there?”

André shook his head. “Not if we run it properly. We’re setting up a silent auction, both online and at the event. Auctioned items are donations, so there’s no tax obligation on our end, and winning bidders don’t get tax receipts since they’re technically purchasing an item. The key is making sure everything’s documented correctly so we don’t run into compliance issues later.”

Grace blinked. What. The. Hell. This was the same man who’d grabbed a random couple outside the Saddledome and asked if they wanted to have a threesome with her. Now he was breaking down tax-exempt sponsorship structures like he moonlighted as an accountant?

He didn’t seem like the same person at all.

She shifted in her chair, subtly catching a whiff of his cologne and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke. Wearing his shirt had cemented that scent in her brain, and it catalyzed a warm, tingly sensation coursing through her. Grace took an unsteady breath, leaning in the other direction to avoid drinking in more of that laced air.

Michael smiled, satisfied. “Sounds like you’ve got everything in hand. We’re lucky to have you running this.”

André flashed a lazy grin. “Don’t say that yet. Let’s see how much money we actually bring in first.”

Michael chuckled, nodding. “Fair enough.”

Devin turned to her. “Grace, is there anything on the legal side we should be aware of?”

She straightened in her seat, the sudden attention sharpening her foggy brain. She paused a beat, waiting for instinct to kick in. Structuring. Organization. Right. “You’re already set up as a registered nonprofit, so the structure for tax-exempt donations is in place. As long as all sponsorship and ticket proceeds are documented properly, there shouldn’t be any issues.”

Devin nodded. “We’ve got an accountant handling the donations and tax paperwork. But I actually had a question about sponsorships. Some of the companies donating are involved in sports medicine and training. They want their branding visible at the event.”

Grace crossed her legs, falling into the natural rhythm of a conversation she knew how to navigate. “That’s standard, but be mindful of how you structure the sponsorship agreements. If you’re giving any direct promotional space to a business—logos on jerseys, for example, or company banners in the arena—that needs to be classified separately from pure donation revenue.”

André turned to her. “What about if they want their name on the charity game itself? We had one company floating the idea of a full sponsorship.”

She frowned slightly. “That’s where it gets trickier. If a business wants to sponsor the event outright, that starts to look less like philanthropy and more like a marketing expense. They can still write it off, but the tax treatment is different. Your team should ensure those details are clear in the contract so there aren’t issues later.”

Devin scribbled something in his notebook. “That’s good to know. What about the players? We’ve got some high-profile guys lined up. Any potential legal issues there?”

Grace arched a brow. “Define high-profile.”

André shrugged. “We’ve got Jack Harrison from the Blizzard. He’s a friend of mine.”

Grace blinked. “Jack Harrison? As in the Jack Harrison who’s engaged to Delia Melise?”

André laughed. “The one and only. He used to play on our team before he was called up.”

Grace worked to keep her expression even. How had Tyler not mentioned that? Had he not been playing when she was working with Troy? Or maybe he wasn’t on the Blizzard yet. Apparently, she hadn’t been paying attention. “Okay. Who else?”

André listed them off. “Mikhail Volkov from the Edmonton Titans. Colin Fraser from Toronto. Cade Bishop out of Vancouver.”

She nearly choked. “Cade Bishop?”

André grinned. “Big fan?”

She worked to keep her eyes from rolling. Cade Bishop was hot, yes. She wasn’t going to pretend she wasn’t aware of his Calvin Klein underwear ad, though she also wasn’t going to admit that she’d been tempted to save a picture of it on her phone. She cleared her throat, officially putting on her lawyer hat. “He’s under a massive contract extension right now. His team might have concerns about injury risk. Do you know if his agent signed off?”

“You know a lot about him for someone who isn’t a hockey fan.” André twisted the cap of the pen that sat on the table in front of him.

Grace scoffed. “Who says I’m not a hockey fan?”

“You didn’t seem to be. At the game the other night.”

She shot him a look. “What is a fan supposed to look like? Did I not put on enough body paint?” Devin coughed, and Grace glanced up, a flush jumping to her cheeks. “Sorry. Just a joke.” She straightened in her seat. What the hell was that? Totally unprofessional.

Devin waved her off. “We haven’t spoken with Bishop’s people. We assumed since it’s a charity game, it wouldn’t cause any problems.”

Grace tapped her fingers on the table, forcing herself not to look at André even though his eyes seemed to be heat seeking missiles. “That depends. NHL contracts have clauses that prohibit certain activities outside of official league games. If a player gets hurt in an unsanctioned event, his team could claim he violated his contract.”

Devin paled slightly.

André nodded. “It will be sanctioned. We’ll have every participating player sign a liability waiver.”

“Ideally, they should run it past their agents first,” Grace added. “Otherwise, if someone gets injured, the team could come after both them and the charity.”

Devin nodded. “We can get that in place. Anything else?”

Grace glanced at André, who was still watching her. She cleared her throat. “Just make sure all agreements are written, not verbal. Otherwise, things can get messy fast.”

André smirked. “Dammit, I was going off handshake deals.”

That time, she did roll her eyes. “Hilarious.”

His grin widened. “That’s all very helpful.” He paused, his gaze wandering over her face, stopping on her lips before dragging back to her eyes. “Thanks for coming, Grace.”

Her blood heated. “You’re welcome.”

Michael planted his hands on the table. “Well, I love this plan. What do you need from us?”

André broke their connection and turned, launching into ideas for marketing and hype. Grace felt like she was underwater for thirty seconds, and when she tuned back in, she heard, “I’m not sure if he’d be on board, but I think sharing your story could make this personal. In a good way. Hockey is all about getting back on the ice, but we need players and fans to know how imperative it is to take player safety seriously.” Michael watched André, his eyes kind as he waited for a response.

André ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I could ask him. I don’t think he’s opposed to it, but travelling here wouldn’t be an option.”

“No, of course. But maybe a video or something? The two of you together?” Michael suggested.

André considered this, and Grace held her breath. What were they talking about? She used context to piece things together, but it was all assumption. Someone André knew had experienced a traumatic brain injury? Was that why he was so passionate about this event and this charity in particular?

“I’ll work on it.” The grin was gone from André’s face, and the muscle in his jaw jumped as he stood. “I’ll be in touch.”