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CHAPTER 18

LIZZY

FAMILY-FRIENDLY SUGGESTIVENESS

I slept on the ideas of the calendar and the wombat, but I didn’t wake up with anything more exciting. So when I met with Declan after practice the next day, I was ready to tell him about both.

“Lizzy,” he said. “How’s the movie coming?”

That’s right—he still thought we were making a documentary.

“Well, I think the plan has changed.” I walked toward a couple of the arena seats and we sat down without either of us suggesting it.

“Well, if you come up with something better, I think that’s great.” He was smiling his usual wide smile, but there was something in his eyes that worried me. He didn’t look excited about the idea I was about to tell him—or, really, about anything.

“Declan, is everything okay?”

Something shifted across his face, but I couldn’t read it. I only knew there was something on his mind—something he wasn’t telling me.

“Yeah,” Declan said. “It’s great.” He smiled even wider then, but the smile was as false as the jewels in the tiara the Queen wore when she traveled outside the palace. “Tell me your idea, Lizzy.”

“Well, it’s about butts.”

Declan’s smile dropped from his face, then reappeared—more genuine than before. He started laughing, and I realized I didn’t have the same charisma Joey did when she’d first come up with the idea. It didn’t sound the same coming from me at all. It was going to be difficult to sell this idea.

“Did you say the new idea is about butts?” Declan could barely get the words out, he was laughing so hard.

“No—I mean, yes, I did say that, but it isn’t what I meant.” I gathered myself, straightening my shoulders, tensing my spine. I was a woman who could single-handedly take down three guys in a hand-to-hand fight. Why was I having a hard time explaining the idea of a calendar? “Let me try again.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Declan said, still smiling.

“I’m thinking we should do a calendar,” I said, speaking slowly and trying to start with the basics.

“A calendar?” His face was unreadable. I couldn’t tell if he thought this was a great idea or a terrible one.

“Right, but it would be like a ‘Wombat of the Month’ kind of thing—like the ones they do at fire stations.”

“Fire stations?” Declan did not seem familiar with the concept of the of-the-month calendar.

“Right, so sometimes, I guess, firefighters pose in somewhat provocative ways for calendars. Then they sell those calendars to raise money for charitable causes. Or maybe just for the firehouse? I don’t really know.”

“Provocative, you say?” He was grinning now.

“Right. So for the Wombats, we would focus on… well, on your butts.”

Declan burst out laughing again, and I knew I still hadn’t done this great idea justice. I started explaining—loudly, talking over his laughter—until I finally got the full extent of Joey’s idea out.

“And by the way, this was Joey’s idea,” I added, just in case Declan thought it was a fantastic idea, but also in case he thought it was the worst one he’d ever heard.

“Got it. And would we also be raising money for a charitable cause?”

“Oh yes, I forgot that part. And that’s maybe even the best part.”

“Yes, charity is a good idea.”

“Right, so—we’re going to adopt a wombat.”

The look on Declan’s face told me I had failed again at selling this idea. His smile was bright, his eyes were dancing, and if nothing else, I had at least distracted him from whatever had been bothering him when we first sat down.

“Lizzy, I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I don’t think adopting a wombat is something you can just stroll into PetSmart and do.”

I knew that. Why didn’t I start with that?

“Right, no, I know. But there’s a wombat at an exotic animal rescue in West Virginia. Or Virginia. Or somewhere. And Joey works with animals, right? So she talked to them, and they’ve agreed to let us adopt Wilma the Wombat as the team mascot.”

“Wilma the Wombat. I love it.” And I loved the way he was looking at me. It gave me confidence to continue, and made me feel warm all over.

I went on to explain to Declan the connection between the wombat and the whole butt thing, which I still hadn’t really managed to convey properly. But once I got it all out, he understood—and thought the whole thing was amazing.

“Lizzy, this is brilliant. Pure genius. This is PR gold.”

I wasn’t sure if Declan was qualified to judge whether PR ideas were gold or genius, but I didn’t really care. For some reason, his approval—his excitement—mattered more to me than actually accomplishing my goal.

The way he was grinning at me gave me tingles that reminded me so much of the feelings I had as a little girl, playing with this same boy in the palace. The boy who made everything fun, made everything feel possible.

“Let’s talk more about this calendar,” Declan said, one side of his mouth lifting in a way that made me want to trace the expression with my finger, maybe detour a bit to feel the scruff of his jaw. It looked soft, and I had a sudden urge to rub my fingers through it. Which I knew was not a normal thing for a PR consultant to be feeling about the subject of her public relations.

Unless you were, unfortunately, attracted to someone you were not supposed to be attracted to. And if you acted on that attraction, I thought, public relations suddenly became private relations. And that was not what I was here for.

“What would you like to know about the calendar?” I asked.

“So you say it will feature our butts,” Declan said slowly. “Are we going to have to be, um… Are we going to have to be naked for this calendar?”

“No!” I felt the blush climb my cheeks, and this time I couldn’t stop it. Declan saw it too—I knew, because his eyes tracked it up my cheeks, all the way to my forehead. Then those blue eyes tracked back down my face, landed somewhere around my mouth, and hung there for one torturous second. Finally Declan’s eyes returned to mine.

“Is it going to be… suggestive?” He asked, putting undue emphasis on that word.

“I mean, suggestive, yes. But in a way that is family-friendly,” I assured him.

“Not sure you understand the meaning of the word suggestive,” he said.

I did. I thought everything about Declan was suggestive. But I couldn’t tell him that.

And maybe I did need to do a little more research on what kind of suggestivity was appropriate for a calendar kids would see at Wombats games.

“Lizzy, I’m proud of you. These are fantastic ideas. And having a wombat as our team mascot? An actual live wombat at the games? That’s gonna get so much coverage. Plus, I think it’s gonna make kids really happy. And making kids happy is awesome.”

Declan’s face was open and bright, and it made me feel happy too. But then a little shadow creased his brow.

“Actually… I don’t really know much about wombats. They’re not, like, vicious, right?” His voice was heavy with concern.

“I don’t think so,” I told him. “Unless you get too close to their butts, I guess. But that would only be if you were trying to get into their burrow, I think. It might warrant a bit more research before we introduce Wilma to children.”

Declan nodded, and for a moment, we sat in silence, side by side. I shifted my gaze, staring out over the ice, where Declan and the other Wombats could do things on skates that I didn’t think most people could do on dry land.

There was the stiff scent of ice in the air, and this close to the dugout—or the bench, or whatever they called it—there was an undertone of something completely masculine. I also caught a whiff of Declan’s clean scent.

He must’ve taken a quicker shower today, I thought.

All of it combined to make me wonder a bit—about how I had found myself here, in this place, with this man, who was like an old friend but also a new and very interesting acquaintance.

After a moment, Declan turned to me. “Walk you out to your car, Lizzy?”

Little did he know, I was actually going to walk him to his car.

But it didn’t hurt to let him believe he was protecting me.

“Sure.”