Page 5

Chapter 5

Pinky swear

Braydon

Finding my way around the Blaze arena was a challenge. I was ten minutes late when I finally found door 415 with a plaque that read Kira Martin, Manager, Media Relations . I’d hoped this meeting was about something else—maybe talking about me staying up for a few games—but no, they called me in because I was a media relations problem. I pulled in a breath, willed my head to stop pounding, and knocked on the door.

A woman’s voice said, “Come in.” It was loud enough that I flinched before opening the door.

Inside was a medium-sized office with a large desk, covered in paper and files, as well as a laptop. Behind it sat a middle-aged woman with perfectly styled dark hair and a severe expression on her face. She didn’t stand, just stared at me. Yikes .

Sitting on one of the chairs in front of the desk was a woman about my age. Her hair was blonde, short and curly, her eyes brown, and she would have been cute if it wasn’t for the frown on her face as she glared at me. She had a computer on her lap, and a wooden cane leaning against her chair.

After a moment of silence, I spoke. “Um, hi. I was told I was supposed to be here? I’m Braydon Mitchell.”

Neither woman looked surprised to hear my name. Neither looked very pleased about it either.

“Come in and close the door.” The older woman’s voice was sharp.

Why was I here with the Blaze media people? Yeah, that video was messed up, and I deserved to get in some trouble for it. But the Inferno guy would be taking care of that, wouldn’t he? Was it because I was in epically bad shit? Like, bad enough that they wanted to end my contract? No, that would be Player Relations, not PR.

Maybe they needed me on the bench for another game before De Vries was back? But if it was just for another game or two, would they care?

The woman behind the desk cleared her throat. Right, she’d told me to come in.

I shut the door behind me and owned up before they started to chew me out. “This is where I need to start apologizing?”

The younger woman’s eyebrows lifted. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

I pushed back my hair with fingers that trembled. I quickly shoved my hands into my dress pants pockets. No suit today—it needed dry cleaning, but I’d done the best I could for this encounter. Dress pants, shirt, and a tie that felt like it was strangling me, but I’d do anything to salvage my career.

“I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I’m embarrassed about that video and that’s not who I am. When I called my parents last night, after the game, I learned something upsetting, and that’s why I went to the bar. I don’t get drunk. Like, I have a two-beer limit that I always stick to. My roommate showed me the video, and I did say that, and shouldn’t have, and I’m really sorry.”

“Sit down.” The older woman waved me to a chair in front of her desk.

I sat, an empty chair between me and the younger woman, but she leaned back as if I was toxic. Wait, did I not shower well enough? I tried to discreetly sniff but couldn’t notice anything. Didn’t help my anxiety.

“I’m Kira Martin. This,” she indicated the woman beside me, “is Jayna Templin, our media coordinator. You’ve caused a problem for us, Mr. Mitchell.”

I still wasn’t sure why the Inferno guy, Steve, wasn’t dealing with this, but my brain was not operating at top levels after last night, so I just said sorry again and waited.

Ms. Martin tapped her fingers on the desk. “I’ve seen the full video, not just what was posted online, so I don’t want to hear about any context bullshit. You have a lot of ground to make up for after that self-indulgent outburst. That’s why you’re here.”

I couldn’t tell her why I’d done it, which was the only way to explain without appearing like more of an asshole than I already did. “I’m sorry I’m causing so much trouble for everyone. I appreciate that the team wants to help. I was expecting the Inferno to tell me they were letting me go or trading me when that’s an option again. But if the Blaze are willing to help me fix this, I’ll do whatever they want.”

Ms. Martin leaned back in her chair. “No one is happy about this shitstorm you’ve stirred up. Unfortunately, the Blaze need you. You’re not going back to the Inferno for the foreseeable future. I’m not telling you any more than that. Because honestly, I don’t know that we can trust you.”

My fists were squeezing the armrests of this chair hard enough that it was painful, so I forced my hands to unclench. What Ms. Martin had said about trusting me? That hurt. People had often doubted my skills, but I’d been trusted. I was the good guy on the team—the one who worked hardest and longest and never caused trouble. Never.

But underneath the hurt and the embarrassment, little bubbles of excitement were mixing with the leftover hangover. The Blaze needed me, and I wasn’t going back to the Inferno. Something had happened with one of the Blaze goalies. This close to the playoffs, with the Blaze near the top of their division, losing a goalie was bad news, even for just a short time. I’d be riding the bench, not starting in goal, for however long they needed me. But still, I might get some ice time. I might…

I might be traded, after the season. They just needed someone now and didn’t have many options with the trade deadline passed. I had to push down those fantasies about leading the team to the Cup and be realistic. A team player. Show them I was worth keeping. It was an opportunity for me to earn back some of the trust I’d lost last night.

I swallowed. “I’ll do whatever the team needs me to do. I swear, that’s not who I really am. And I’ll do anything to prove it.”

Ms. Martin leaned forward on her desk, hands folded together. “Just so we know what we’re working with, what is your issue with Faith Devereaux? Do you have some kind of history?”

My stomach dropped like she’d just shoved me over the top of a roller coaster. What the hell was I supposed to say? I couldn’t tell the truth, but I was a shitty liar.

“I never met Faith Devereaux before last night.” That was true.

The two women exchanged glances. The younger one, the pretty one, nodded. What was that about? “Have you met her father, Frank Devereaux?”

I felt my cheeks warm, but I was as honest as I could be. “Never met him. I wasn’t drafted and didn’t meet with a lot of agents.”

“But you know he’s an agent?”

I fought to stay still and not tense up. My cheeks were already flushed, so I didn’t need to make more of a spectacle of myself. “Not till last night. Someone mentioned him to Cooper.”

The two women waited, but I didn’t dare say anything else. The world didn’t need to know what had happened to my mother, and Frank Devereaux’s family didn’t want to hear this either.

After a tense silence, Ms. Martin spoke up again. “We have to demonstrate that you have no problems with Faith. You’ll need to spend time with her and do something with the two of you in public.”

Fuck. I hadn’t had time to process that she was my half-sister. Facing her now, after that video? How the hell was I supposed to do that? But if I wanted to stay with this team…

I nodded.

“And we have to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you support women’s sports. Specifically, women’s hockey.”

“I’ll do anything.” Watch games? Meet the team? Post on social media about them? Absolutely, I could do that. I didn’t know much about the women’s team, but I’d learn.

“Good.” Ms. Martin’s smile wasn’t reassuring. “You’re going to spend a lot of time with women hockey players. And we need that time to be posted extensively on social media. We want you to be such a fan of women’s hockey that anytime the press thinks of you, they think of the Bonfire.”

My leg was jiggling, so I dropped a hand on it to stop it. How would they tie me that closely to the Bonfire? That smile made me think I wouldn’t like it. “Okay. How do you want me to do that?”

“You’re going to date one of the players.”

I jerked up so hard my head started throbbing again. Not Faith, no way… Wait, she was married. Whoever it was wouldn’t be my half-sister. My shoulders dropped. As long as it wasn’t Faith, I could deal. “What? How…who?”

“It so happens that one of the Bonfire players is on IR. She’s single, she handles social media for the Blaze and the Bonfire, and…she’s sitting beside you.”

Her? I twisted my head to see if she was on board with this, and the look on her face told me she didn’t want anything to do with me.

Ms. Martin continued, and I heard the amusement in her voice. “You two met while Jayna was working on the team’s social media. For the next several weeks you’ll be inseparable. Anytime you’re not practicing, playing a game or asleep, you’ll be with Jayna. You’ll be at every Bonfire game if they’re in town and you’re not playing. You’ll hang out with the team as Jayna’s boyfriend. Your social media will be full of the Bonfire. You can do promos for the team’s playoff run. Jayna will ensure that you don’t make another stupid mistake. You don’t do anything without her approval. Understand?”

“But—”

“But what, Mr. Mitchell? Do you have a better idea?”

A better idea? Maybe, if I had time and wasn’t still battling a hangover. But right now I had nothing. I didn’t have a girlfriend, so that wasn’t an issue. My mom and dad would wonder, but if I told them the reason, they’d understand. I should call them. This viral thing would be upsetting them.

I checked with Jayna beside me. She still looked nauseated at the idea. How the hell would we be able to sell a romance? And why would she do it if she didn’t like me, or the person she thought I was? There had to be a reason.

“What do you get out of this?” I blurted.

“They’re paying me.”

Paying her? What the fuck?

“A lot.”

* * *

Jayna

I led Braydon through the building to my office. Kira had left it to me to arrange the details of this fake dating setup. They did this kind of thing in Hollywood, didn’t they? Was there a place I could get a playbook?

Once we wound our way to my cubbyhole, I set my cane in the corner and dropped into the chair behind my desk. I gestured to the one on the other side and Braydon sat down.

I’d never had someone as big as him in here. Braydon’s size emphasized just how small this room was. I was too aware of him, wide shoulders and heavy thighs. His leg was vibrating as he watched me, bracing for what was coming. I ignored how he filled up the space and pulled out my laptop, setting it on my desk.

“Are they really paying you to date me? I mean, pretend to go out with me?”

I’d wanted to put him in his place, back in Kira’s office, but I didn’t want him to think I was an escort. I didn’t want him to get any ideas about…well, anything. “They’re paying me for working extra hours. I handle social media for the Bonfire and the Blaze. Since you’re now a PR project, I’m being paid to spread our romance on social media, if you want the exact details.”

His brow creased. “So, what exactly are we doing?”

How difficult was it to understand this plan? Pretend to date. Do what I say. “First, are you seeing anyone? Seriously, something that would prevent you from dating…” I swallowed and continued. “Me.”

Braydon shook his head.

“Okay, so that’s clear.”

“Wait.”

I looked up, wondering what impediment he had now. Was he gay? If so, he was in the closet and we could work around that, couldn’t we?

“Are you with anyone?”

“No. I wouldn’t be in this position if I was. I don’t cheat.”

His jaw moved, and then he asked another question. “Do you go out with guys?”

My teeth ground together. “Not all female athletes are lesbians.” My voice would give frostbite to someone who didn’t make his living on the ice.

His lips pinched. “And not all male athletes are straight. I just wanted to know where we stand before I make assumptions.”

I relaxed my jaw and my expression. He was right. I was making a lot of assumptions, and this time it was making me act like an ass. “I apologize, but I get that a lot. I’m straight, unfortunately.”

A corner of his lip quirked up. “Unfortunately?”

I was not falling for the cute. “Yeah, there are some great women on my team. And it’s not easy to find an equally great guy.”

He swallowed. “Can’t say the same about my teammates. They’re mostly disasters. I’m glad I don’t want to date any of them.”

Maybe I could do this. The guy wasn’t a complete asshole. “Okay, we’re both available, and both interested in the other’s gender, so there shouldn’t be any impediments. We’ll pretend we’ve been dating a bit, but secretly, and the team has a story to explain why you went off on Faith.”

His face closed down again.

I rolled my eyes. “If we’re going to convince people that you’re not some kind of retrogressive Neanderthal who doesn’t believe women belong in sports, you’re going to have to appear to be a Faith fan. You don’t have to be her best friend, but you need to be around her without looking like someone pissed in your Wheaties. Work out whatever it is with her dad.”

“I don’t know how easy that will be.”

We weren’t asking that much. This whole charade was for his benefit and he couldn’t even make a half-assed effort? If I had to go back and say this dating thing wasn’t working, I’d be the one blamed, not this prima donna.

I tamped down my irritation. I didn’t know what his issue with Frank was. I’d be an asshole if it was something— My brain considered some very dark options.

“Did he, um, do something to you? Or your family?”

From what I’d heard from Faith, in confidence, her dad’s issue had been keeping it in his pants around women, but maybe Faith didn’t know everything. There’d been that Ponzi scheme a few years ago—had Frank been involved in that? Taken money from Mitchell’s family? No, that had been in Canada, and Mitchell was from the US.

“You could say that. But no, don’t. Don’t say anything about him and my family.”

The problem was with Faith’s dad, but I couldn’t do much without knowing more details. “Can you separate Frank from Faith? At least long enough for us to show you’re a good guy?”

He started to chew on a fingernail and I was totally lost. I didn’t want to think about what could have happened to make this so difficult. And I couldn’t force him to tell me.

He finally sighed, and his shoulders tensed, testing the seams of his shirt. Looking at my desk, not me, he asked, “If I tell you something, can it be kept just between the two of us? No one knows, and none of the teams need to hear about it.”

I desperately wanted to agree. But this was my job. If his secret impacted the teams, could I keep it from them? “If it’s something illegal, or something that will hurt the organization, then I have a conflict.”

He nodded. “It’s not. The only problem would come from this getting out. It has to stay quiet, or a lot of people will get hurt. You can’t tell the people who work here, or your teammates. Especially Faith.”

I was so curious now I’d probably have compromised my responsibility to the Blaze just to find out what it was. If it was something terrible Frank had done…well, I wouldn’t want to hurt Faith. I held out my hand, pinky finger extended. “I’ll promise.”

His brows furrowed. “You want to pinky swear?”

“I take pinky swears seriously. And if this has to stay quiet, I can’t make up a legal contract to sign.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m going to pinky swear.”

I wiggled my finger. Braydon stretched out his own pinky and locked it with mine. I wasn’t a small woman, but his hand was much larger than mine.

“I pinky swear that I won’t tell anyone what you’re about to tell me.”

He took his hand back and dropped it on his lap. He drew in a long breath. His knee began to vibrate again.

“Frank Devereaux is my father.”