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SARAH

SIX MONTHS LATER

I look up from my phone as the elevator stops and opens to the fourth floor of the office, with our logo ‘It’s a Match PR’ lit up and greeting me from behind the receptionist's desk. I step out and wave to Tessa as I walk past her towards my office. With my phone forgotten in my hand, I take in the empty office as the sound of my clicking three-inch black Louboutins on the hardwood floors breaks up the quiet. As I make the final steps to my office, my phone vibrates with a notification that has me scowling at the device.

I open up the drawer at the bottom of my desk and drop my purse and work tote into it and close the drawer with my foot. Standing up straight, I push my thick auburn hair over my shoulder and go back to my phone. I re-read the score from last night, showing me that Cincinnati's baseball team lost again so now Mason is going to gloat because he’s an Atlanta fan. Speak of the gloating devil.

Mason: Pay up Callahan.

Me: No way. The series isn’t even over.

Mason: You think they can come back for the next three games?

Me: Yes.

Of the small client list I have, Mason is my favorite. After the blind side of his trade, he fired his team and took me on as his publicist when he found out what I did for work. It was easy working with someone who not only is in love with my best friend, but who I have a childhood history with. Eventually I took on a baseball player that was traded last season after five years playing in Washington and a soccer player in Cincinnati. Both were looking for a new public relations agent who could revamp their image. Since I love small projects, they were perfect. I even have them in a group chat on my phone named: Problem Children.

The agency I’m with is small but takes on all of the teams in the city and surrounding areas. When my schedule allows me to, I travel to where my clients have games. Not only is it work, but it helps feed the travel bug in me.

It’s been a year since the breakup. And while I have moved on, the pain is still this living thing that’s simmering just beneath the surface. It somehow reminds me that I’m not enough. That I wasn’t enough for him to stay. That I wasn’t good enough for him to choose. And learning that your ex not only cheated on you months after you moved states for work, but got someone pregnant, stings more than anyone can know. It brings the not enough feeling to the forefront of my mind anytime I think about what I could have done differently.

I still haven’t told Kamryn the real reason Paul and I broke up. She had other things going on in her life. But even if she had asked, saying it out loud makes the situation more humiliating than it should be, so I just haven’t.

I’ve moved on to thinking about bigger and better things. Yet, the only bigger and better thing I can’t stop thinking about is the hot one night stand from six months ago. I swear he cast some sort of spell over me to where no other hook-up seems appealing anymore.

Alas, I’ve been advised that burying myself in work is merely a weak band-aid to the stitching that’s required. But, so far, I’m happy. At least, that’s what I feed my therapist in our bi-weekly sessions.

On top of working harder than ever, I’ve filled my time with my girls and their boos. I’m glad my friends have found their happiness. And I’m more than happy to seventh wheel it when need be.

I’m looking over the contract for an upcoming photoshoot for Nate, my baseball player in his fourth year, when my boss knocks on my door.

My head pops up at the noise. “Hey, Jeff. What’s up?” I ask and take my glasses off.

He shuts the door and comes to sit in front of my desk. “Have you checked the headlines?”

“No,” I say skeptically. My eyes flash to my computer that’s gone on screensaver mode having not been used in the last thirty minutes. I really should change that setting as my inbox is usually flooded with a dozen emails after thirty minutes.

“Hockey,” he says with zero context clues.

“..is a sport,” I say as I finish his sentence for him .

He gives me a look that’s earned me more smacks to the back of the head from my parents than allowed.

“I know you were looking to expand your client list in the next year. But we’re going to have to rush that.”

Behind the scenes I’ve reached out to other agents to see if their clients needed new reps in terms of publicity. I have a few who are looking for partial representation, which works for me. But if I fear this conversation is going to go the way I think it is, then I’ll have to nix the other contracts.

“Why?”

“Riley Jones. Have you heard of him?” Jeff asks.

My mind flips through the hockey players that I have heard of and his name pops up in my mental rolodex. It’s sort of my job to know the athletes in Ohio because at any moment, any one of them could need new representation. “Sure. Hometown golden boy. Drafted his first year in college as a right winger, but he committed to playing all four years at Columbus State before starting his first game with the Blue Jays. And that’s about all I know. Why?” I feel like that word has left my mouth one too many times since Jeff set foot in my office.

He gives me the look I’ve seen him give his daughter on more than one occasion. The one that says more than words. The look that makes her do what he asked of her despite the moaning and groaning it took to get to that point.

I shake my head as realization settles in. “No. Absolutely not. Jeff, I was joking last week when I said it wouldn’t be a bad idea if he had a babysitter. Plus, I don't have the time to reform, babysit, whatever you want to call it, a twenty-three year old hotshot who thinks he’s God’s gift to the sport and women.” I sit back in my chair with a huff.

“Sure you do. Mason’s schedule is light, Nate’s on an away stretch right now, Jordan is doing fantastic in Cleveland, and Miles is crushing it with FC. You have time.”

Not only do I cover ground with my athletes in Cincinnati, but I’m also in Cleveland, which is my furthest trek for work, as well with three clients there. Columbus would be my first and while I have been looking to expand my client list to the minor league teams in Akron and Dayton, I wanted to do so in the next few years. Not right now as Jeff is proposing.

“Why can’t someone else do it? Like Travis?” I feel bad for throwing him under the bus. But really? Why me?

“That’s the thing. Riley was with his agent, who’s a guy, when–”

I groan and drop my head to my desk before sitting right back up. “What’s in it for me?” I ask, because if I know Jeff, it’s that he won’t stop until I say yes. And when an athlete is in hot water with his agent, that means the team is doing PR damage control and needs to “rehabilitate” the athlete before they decide he’s no longer worth the hassle and choose to trade him or drop him altogether.

“A raise, more vacation days, and really anything else,” he says as he lists off each item. Jeff loves this company. He started with a few athletes before he brought me and eventually a few other agents on. Again, we’re a small agency but we have some big name and rising star athletes on our roster.

“First class seating on every flight I need to take plus a guest, whether it’s for business or pleasure. The rest of my student loans paid off, paid lunches, and anything else I will bring straight to you.” I throw at him.

Jeff chews on his cheek in thought. I know he’ll agree. Just like he agrees to everything else I bargain with. My boss is like the older brother I never had. Being an only child, I made friends quickly and made sure to hold onto them with all my might. Really, Jeff got lucky. I’m a catch. Which I reiterate to him weekly. “Deal.”

My shoulders release from my ears and I stop swinging my foot when Jeff makes no move to vacate the seat he’s taken. “What else?” I ask because I know there's something else. Jeff always sugarcoats things with me, despite me telling him I don’t want or need that.

“He’s here.”

I slam my head against my headrest this time and clench my fists. My manicured nails dig into my palms as I clench my fists. “Jeff…” I groan out.

“Did I mention you’re the best employee ever?”

“Unless you want to pay off my mortgage too, you should stop buttering me up.” I tell him as I sit up and unclench my fists.

Jeff holds his hands up in surrender. “Fine. You’re right. But I think with you as his rep, he’ll shape up.”

One of the reasons I became so good at my job is that I had zero distractions. Everything had a place and nothing shook me. Because, really, what else did I have to do? I have no love life to speak of so all of that saved time went into work. My clients fell in line. I worked press releases to their advantage, got them photoshoots that no other publicist could, I made their reputations squeaky clean, and in the end, the community and fans love them. I became a shark in a male-dominated field.

“Will you send him in here?” I ask.

“Sure,” Jeff says and gets up. “Again, I know this is sooner than you hoped. But you’re saving his ass from never playing hockey again. I’ll send you an email of what he’s been up to so far. ”

I give Jeff a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. As soon as he leaves, my phone dings with a text.

Emmy-Lou: Cookout this weekend.

Me: Do I finally get to meet this elusive man you’ve been spending all of your time with?

Emmy-Lou: Yes.

Emmy-Lou: But Kam doesn’t know you know more than her. So please keep that under lock and key.

Me: What’s in it for me?

Emmy-Lou: The strongest and largest margarita poolside?

Me: You drive a hard bargain, little bird.

Emmy-Lou: Love you!

I’m smiling at my phone when a knock sounds from the other side.

“Come in,” I announce without looking up and place my phone face down.

I move my gaze to my computer and wiggle my mouse to wake it up when the familiar scent of cedar wood and leather invades my senses along with a hulking figure that darkens my doorway. My head swivels to the doorway and my eyes slowly take in the man standing at my door. From his crisp Air Maxes with worn black jeans that encase his muscular legs to the long sleeve henley that’s pushed up to his elbows revealing the tattooed forearms I remember holding onto as an orgasm ripped through me. A silent fuck leaves his mouth as the surprise at seeing each other is more than we ever thought .

Words seem to fail me. If he were anyone else they’d be so easy to pull out of thin air. But, this. Seeing him after replaying that night while laying in bed. What do you say to that?

“Take a seat, Theo,” I say and open up my email. I do what I can to avoid his gaze for as long as possible. I have no other reason than trying to avoid looking at the man who made me come harder than anyone ever had. Shaking myself out of those NSFW thoughts, I see the one promised from Jeff and quickly scroll the contents. “Or is it Riley?”

I can’t believe my one night stand is Riley Jones. What are the actual odds? Considering I went to Columbus when we hooked up, the possibility was more likely that I thought.

He finally steps into my office and closes the door, resting his back against it. “It’s Riley. But my middle name is Theodore and I usually go by Theo when I’m out on the town. I didn’t know if you just wanted one night because you knew me as ‘Riley Jones the hockey player’ so I went with my middle name. Well, the shortened version of my middle name anyway.” He tells me this while still resting against my office door. His body is tense and I’m not sure if he’s afraid to say or do anything that’ll cause me to fly off the handle.

My forehead scrunches. “Back up. How would I have even known it was you? And you approached me in case you’ve forgotten.”

Riley pushes off the door and strides over to the chair that Jeff was occupying and slumps down, crossing his ankle over his knee. His cologne wafts towards me and he exudes masculinity, power, but also cockiness that I fear has been his go-to for so long he doesn’t know how to stop. “I did and I don’t regret that.”

We stare at each other. Separated by a desk. In the light of day we’re nothing but strangers. But our night together might as well be playing out between us like a hologram the longer we sit in silence.

I shake out of my memories of our night and get back to business. I do my best to ignore what happened between us and turn my professional hat on. “Were you happy with your last team? Your agent, publicist…that team.”

He stares at me as if he can’t believe my switch up, but then he too, shakes off the daze. “They were okay. Some of them turned out to be in it for fame rather than helping my career move forward. I didn’t really catch on until it was too late.”

Figures. “Right. Well I’m going to do my best to get your information from all of them. If that doesn’t work, I’ll see if Jeff can pull some strings. If you are looking for a new agent, which I highly suggest you get a new agent as soon as possible, I can ask around and see if any are looking to take on a hockey player. In the meantime, I can assume the role of your agent and publicist temporarily.” I say all the while drafting up an email to his former team. My talent for multi-tasking should be studied. I then draft up another email for Columbus’s front office regarding his agent status. It’s unnecessary but if they make any moves without him knowing, it won’t go over well.

“You’re not gonna have me do tutoring or anything, right?”

My fingers halt on the keyboard and I turn to face him and raise an eyebrow at his blasé question. “All of my clients are involved in the community. Whether it’s camps for kids or community clean-up. No exceptions. It’s part of having a sparkling clean reputation, which you now need. And this is where your last team and I differ.” I push my keyboard and mouse to the side and lean forward so he knows I’m serious. “ As your publicist I need to be on the same page as your agent, your coach, your manager, your personal trainer, and so many other people that it would make your head spin. Since I’m now your temporary agent, that job now falls to me. If you want your team to respect you and the fans to make your jersey the top seller in the store, then you’ll do what I have lined up for you. That includes reshaping your social media and real life presence.”

Riley's gaze challenges mine, waiting for me to waver in my demands. If he thinks our night together will soften my approach to him, he’ll be waiting until hell freezes over. Our time together was a pebble thrown into a still lake. Enough to shake us both, but not enough for me to bend on how I do my job. And when he realizes I won’t bend on the way of my working to make him more successful, he finally gives in. “Fine. When do I start.”

“I knew you’d see things my way. In a couple of weeks there will be a Fourth of July event downtown. A bunch of locally owned businesses will be there along with some athletes for the teams who aren’t in season. Fans flock to this event every year because they look forward to it every year. It’s a great way for you to market yourself and get to know the area.”

“You know I don’t live in this city,” he says like I don’t already know.

“You have a car, right?”

“And a motorcycle. If you ever wanna ride again,” he replies cockily as a smirk teases his lips. His innuendo is not lost on me and the memory of me doing just that hits me full-force.

I won’t lie when I say that Riley is handsome. A fact that was not lost on me that night. But he’s a young athlete, making money he never dreamed of, with his tousled dirty blond hair, tattoos climbing up his neck that I know covers the majority of his body, and his dark blue eyes that sparkle with mischief when he looks at me. But I won’t fall for it. At least not again. Not even as the cedar wood scent from his cologne fills my office and takes me back to that night.

Because as a woman in a mostly male-dominated field, I’m already at a disadvantage as this career has presented some not-so-friendly men in this field. Some athletes felt they had a say in what I can do because they were men. But with my icy persona when it comes to this job, I’ve fended off their quips, jabs, and come-ons in the most effective way that I could.

By becoming the second highest paid public relations agent in the United States.

Riley is no longer the exception to every other athlete in this country. So it’s now my job to look at me as a sort of sister to him and not a friend. I have to remind myself that because the thoughts that were just running through my head weren’t very sibling-like.

I copy and paste his email from Jeff and pull up another email. The sound of outgoing mail breaks up the silence.

“I just emailed you events to attend for the rest of the year,” I say, ignoring his quip about the motorcycle. “I’ll get in touch with your coach to work in a mandatory skate with kids either here or near home base. Either way I’ll be there.”

I look up and see him looking around my office and I follow his wandering eyes. Since I’m here a lot, I realize I’ve made it my second home. Pictures of my family and friends fill the walls and shelves. Along with my degrees showcased by pictures with my team here and my clients. I have an area rug that is woven with blues and oranges to break up the cold interior that this office originally presented. A candle warmer gives my space a cozy feel to it and Riley getting a glimpse into my life has me wanting to take the pictures down and unplug the candle warmer so he has to earn the right to know me.

Riley’s gaze comes back to me and I have to look away before I look back up at him. “You got it boss lady.”

“My number is also included in that email I sent you. Do not, under any circumstances, send me unsolicited pictures. Got it?”

He leans forward and the Tom Ford scent I know like the back of my hand, invades my senses. “What kind of pictures should I send you then?”

“Goodbye, Riley.” I dismiss him.

“Goodbye, Sarah.” He leaves with an arrogant chuckle.