Page 4 of (La)Crosse My Heart (Sweet Sports Kisses #7)

Clark

D id I take the slowest shower ever? Absolutely.

By the time I’ve changed, no one’s in the locker room. I’m okay with that. My roommates probably headed out to get some food, which I would love to do about now, but I’ve got to suffer through whatever Jessa has to say.

When did she become an expert in helping people with their communication skills? The last time she used her own, it was to yell and scream because I stole her car.

Valid.

I probably shouldn’t be like this with Jessa. She’d always been a solid influence in my life, even if I enjoyed goading her into things.

I really don’t want her to pick apart my personality and all the things I’m doing wrong with media appearances.

So I drag myself out of the locker room. As soon as I open the door I see she’s standing there, tapping away at her phone.

It gives me a second to take her in, to realize the girl I’d known had grown into a woman. She’s got curves and confidence that I don’t remember. I can’t believe she’s willingly wearing heels.

“Are you ready for this torture?” I ask.

Jessa glances up and nods. “I didn’t think you’d make it out of there so soon. Let’s head upstairs to the conference room and we can talk about some details.”

We wait next to the elevators, and she goes back to something on her phone. I’m not sure why I’m so irritated about it, but why isn’t she asking questions now? Save me some uncomfortable time in the conference room.

“How long have you been doing this?” I ask, gesturing my hand out in front of me and her.

“What? Working with people on their media presence?” When I nod, she hesitates, “For about a year.”

“How did you get into this?” I ask, suddenly curious.

The elevator doors open and we step inside. I lean against the side, and she presses the button for the third floor.

“I went to college for public relations and got a few internships. I noticed the support for guiding athletes through dealing with anything outside of their sport was lacking, and I wanted to help.”

“Who else have you worked with?” I ask. This sounds like more of an interrogation on my part than it should be. But it would be nice to know I’m not a total loss. If one of the more well-known athletes in any sport had problems like I do, I’d know there’s hope for me.

She glances away and says, “I worked with a lot of track and field athletes.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Track and field? That’s not even close to lacrosse.”

She stares at me and lets out a slow breath before answering.

“I’m not teaching you on-field skills. I’m giving you tips to help you talk to the cameras or perform for your endorsement deals.

You may be an expert in your sport, but from everyone I’ve talked to since I got here, you need help in other areas. ”

I don’t know whether to laugh or be offended. It’s almost refreshing to have her blunt delivery back in my life. For a very short time, hopefully. “What title do you give people when they ask?”

“I’m an Athlete Image and Engagement Manager. The company was hesitant to hire me.”

I shake my head. “That’s not something I want to hear from you.”

“Well, I don’t have several dozen referrals as others in my position. I’ve worked with college teams in the past but never professionals. Where do I get experience if no one gives me that opportunity?”

Groaning, I say, “So you want to make me your test rat?”

“Your words, not mine,” she says, holding her hands in the air. She laughs a little, and I’m surprised by how beautiful she is when she smiles.

Whoa, I need to stop that line of thought before it goes too far. This is Brock’s older sister, for crying out loud. There’s no way a relationship with her would ever work. Not that I should even jump to that kind of thinking.

The elevator doors open and Jessa walks out first. I watch as she gracefully strolls toward the conference room down the left hallway. Has she been here for a while? I’ve been with this club for the last three years and I’ve barely ever been up here.

She opens the door and waves me inside. “Okay, let’s talk through some things.”

I take a seat, leaning back in it so I’m balancing on two legs. The distraction of keeping my balance helps ease the anxiety a bit, like if I have something else to focus on, I won’t have to worry about what questions are coming.

“What are you feeling when you go into media interviews?” she asks, grabbing a tablet from the chair next to her. Where did that come from?

“Like I’d rather just shower and go home than talk to reporters.”

She stops tapping on the tablet screen and glances up at me. “You don’t want the limelight of people telling you how great you played?”

I frown and shake my head. “I play this sport because I love it. Because deep down, I don’t know what my life would be like without it. It’s not about recognition. It’s about survival.”

Have I ever put all of those words together when describing my lacrosse life? No. But maybe they’d been bubbling to the surface. Or maybe it’s being with Jessa.

As much as I don’t want to go through whatever mental hoops I need to be cured, maybe it’s a good thing I’m working with her. She knows a lot about me, although a few things have changed from when I was a little hellion.

She nods and taps away at the keyboard some more. “Do you get nervous when you know you’ll have to speak to reporters?”

“Not really. It’s more a combination of the whole thing. The dozens of questions and the cameras.” Admitting this seems way too vulnerable for me, but I’ve got to get it out if I can make things different. I don’t want to waste another weekend like the one I just went through for the endorsements.

Jessa nods and types on the tablet again. “What about your personal brand? What are you hoping it will look like?”

I frown, not sure what she’s talking about.

“I’m a Salt Lake Lancer. Isn’t that my brand?”

She gives me a slight eye roll and says, “No, that’s the team’s brand. You need to come up with something so people know immediately it’s you.”

“Are we talking about clothing or my signature?” I ask, still more confused than ever. “I thought we’d be going over the ways to talk to people or something. Not that I can’t talk to people...” I say, trailing off.

Jessa nods. “We’ll get to that point. I’m not going to just help you in one part and send you on your way. I’m here to help with the total transformation.”

I frown. “You want me to be a robot?”

“No,” she says with a groan. “Most people are content to work with me on this. Of course, you have to be difficult.”

I take in a breath, knowing I have to tread lightly. Jessa has always been severely type-A about life, and I’m making her fray at the edges.

“I’m sorry. I’ll just listen while you tell me the plan.”

She breathes in deeply and gives me a smile. “Thanks. That would make this so much easier.”

She writes something on her tablet and then turns it so I can see.

“Okay, so there are a few different parts to this makeover.”

I see one of the items is wardrobe change.

“Am I currently the ugly duckling?” I ask, unable to keep my mouth shut. She gives me a glare, and I raise my hands. “Okay, sorry. Go on.”

“The management group wants you to be the face of the team and soon. So, we’ve got our work cut out for us. We’re going to work in a few areas. First off, we need to pinpoint what you want to be your brand, like I said before. It encompasses your style, what you’re wearing when paparazzi are out?—”

“You remember I play lacrosse, right? It’s not exactly celebrity status over here.”

“At least you’re self-aware enough to know that.

But if you’re going to be remembered by the lacrosse lovers, we’ve got to give you that edge.

So, we’ll work on your clothing choices, your presence on social media, etcetera.

Actually, will you open up your social media accounts so I can see them really quick? ”

I pause, trying to remember when I last posted. “They might have cobwebs on them,” I say, giving her a small smile.

“It’s fine. It gives me an idea of what you posted before and then we can revamp from there.”

I log in and hand her my phone, watching as her neatly trimmed pink nails come close to mine. She scrolls through, her lips pinched together as if she’s not happy about something.

Her scrolling gives me a chance to study her again. Jessa’s a few inches taller than I remember and she’s wearing subtle makeup. Her favorite color had been mint green for so long that no matter what she wore, it was like a scavenger hunt daily for the color.

I don’t see any color at all, aside from the tan business suit. Even her phone and tablet are black.

Sure, she’s got mostly the same personality, making sure we don’t mess with her business time. Despite the changes, she’s beautiful.

Is it weird I’m thinking of her in a non-best-friend’s sister sort of way?

Maybe I just need to go on more dates to combat this odd and unusual feeling, but she’s about the only person who’s been able to get me in line throughout the years. And the first to make me even consider a date since my junior prom.

My one-track mind has been focused on lacrosse for so long, I don’t know if I’d know how to juggle more than one thing.

“Something wrong, boss?” I ask, feeling a touch of anxiety as she continues to scroll through my feed. There’s a reason I stopped posting on social media. I get obsessed with the numbers, which isn’t good for my mental health. The fact she wants to resurrect that makes me nervous.

She blows out a breath and says, “We’ve got a lot of work to do. It won’t be that bad, but it’s more than I originally thought.”

Great. Just what I wanted to hear.

“Okay, so I need a few new clothes and better social media game. What else do you have in store for me?” I ask, sitting back and folding my arms across my chest.

“Daphne, the gal for Stockton Media, mentioned a few programs we can use for this. We need to make the fans fall in love with you. It’s going to take a careful approach to curating the right posts and events, but I think it’s doable.”

“Do I have to post daily? I’m not good at that.” When I have to post, I usually open my app and close it right after, overwhelmed with all that goes into it.

Jessa shakes her head. “No, I’ll work on that for you. We’ll have posts scheduled to make the process easier.”

The tightness in my chest eases some and I nod. “Sounds good.”

“We’ll have you attend a few charity functions and get some pictures there we can use for several posts. Is there a cause you’d like to sponsor or help with? Maybe coach a youth lacrosse team?”

I laugh loud and long at that idea. “I don’t know if anyone would love that idea, especially the parents.”

“Come on, you were always great with kids,” she says. Then she pauses and her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

“Thanks,” I say with a wink.

She sighs and shakes her head. “At least that’s what I can remember of you from all those years ago. You liked to terrorize my life, but you were always nice to the younger neighborhood kids.”

I swallow, surprised she remembered something like that.

“Anyway, let me see if there’s anything else I needed to ask you.” She scans her tablet and says, “Oh, do you have a girlfriend? We can add her to some posts?”

I frown. “What does that have to do with my image?”

“Typically, people love watching a romance blossom. Think of every celebrity relationship and the buzz about them being together or not for weeks or months before it’s confirmed. I think it could be an interesting approach.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

There’s a moment of surprise on her face before she nods and says, “Good to know. I think this has been a good first meeting. When’s your next practice?”

“Tomorrow, same time, same place,” I say, leaning forward in my chair. I check my phone and see we’ve been in here for an hour already. No wonder my limbs are stiff. I’ve been sitting here for way longer than I typically would after practice.

“Do you have a second job?” Jessa asks, glancing up at me as she waits for the answer.

“Well, I can always go back to my job at the fire station if needed, but with the endorsements I’m supposed to finish working with, I should be able to live on just my lacrosse income for a few years.”

She looks surprised, and I grin.

“That’s awesome. Okay, well, let’s meet tomorrow for a wardrobe check. Send me your address and I’ll come see what you’ve already got, then we’ll go from there.”

“You won’t take away all the comfy clothes, will you?” I plead.

“No, but if you have too many, we’ll have to thin the herd. And then we’ll go shopping.”

“My favorite thing,” I say with sarcasm in my tone.

“You’ll be fine. You’ve never gone shopping with me. I know how to make it as painless as possible.”

“We’ll see.”

We walk out of the room and head back to the elevator.

“Are you renting a place here in town? Or are you only in a hotel until you can check me off your to-do list?” I lean against the wall next to the elevator and wait for her response.

She looks at me with wide eyes as the elevator doors open. We step inside and the doors shut.

“I’m here for a while. You’re kind of the trial run for the company. If I’m successful with you, then I’ll find a more permanent place. I hope to help Stockton Group with all of their teams.”

“Be honest, were you hoping to work with a hockey player?”

She scrunches her nose. It sends me back ten years when she’d do that every time I came over to the Stratton house.

“No, I wasn’t sure who I was working with, but I’m here to make a name for myself, to build something I’ve been hoping for the past several years.”

There’s not much I can say about that. “I hope you make it to your dreams. What does the fake golfer say about it? Did he move here too?”

She looks like she’s just eaten an entire lemon before she shakes her head.

“It’s sad that nickname describes him so accurately.

We broke up about six months ago. I applied to work out here, and he was insulted I would think of leaving the east coast. But I needed a change.

It was almost a test to see what he would do. ”

“Did he end up making it even close to the PGA tour?” I ask, letting my curiosity have full rein of my mouth.

She gives me a quick shake of the head and leaves. “See you tomorrow. Send me that info.”