Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(15)
“God, no. I know how you are when you haven’t had any sleep. It ain’t pretty.”
No, it really isn’t. “The invoice is on my desk. Just give them a call. They’re really good about responding.”
“Okay. That’s what I needed. Now go back to sleep while I continue dodging Lance as best I can. But if we don’t have wings for the evening crowd, he’s gonna go apeshit.”
“Send one of the guys over to Costco. They can grab enough to make it through the day.”
“Good idea.”
Clearly Lance is already losing it because otherwise Noelle would’ve figured this out on her own.
“Oh, and remind me to tell you about Bianca’s hair,” I tell her as a huge yawn escapes me. I meant to tell Noelle about it on Friday, but it totally slipped my mind. Since she went on a weekend trip with her parents and her sister, we didn’t have our customary wine night, either.
“Will do. Night.”
When the phone disconnects, I drop it onto the bed, grab my extra pillow, and cover my head. I wish I could turn off the ringer, but with my luck, Bianca’s school would call and I’d definitely lose points for being a good mom.
I yawn loudly, close my eyes, and give myself over to sleep once again.
6
Kingston
I think Phoenix is trying to determine whether he’ll have to tackle me or not. At the moment, I’m not even sure. As I debate what to do—stay or run—I mentally warn myself to remain calm. I’ve been anticipating this, so it’s not like it took me by surprise.
I won’t admit that to anyone because I like to pretend that it’s all a bad dream.
Looks like Phoenix doesn’t want to get his fancy pants dirty, because he thrusts his hands in his pockets and stares me down, which pretty much makes my decision for me. I have no choice but to stay, yet my feet still won’t take me back in his direction.
He shifts his stance, probably noticing my hesitation. “We want to address the personal matter that you encountered at the end of last season.” His tone says he’s not at all happy with me. But I knew that already since this isn’t the first time we’ve hashed out this particular topic.
Okay, so calm may be an issue.
Although I turn around and walk toward the group waiting to rip me a new one, I’m still tempted to bolt. The last thing I want to do is spend the morning chatting about my “personal matter.” Considering it never f*cking happened, I’m not sure why they’re using that term in the first place.
“Let’s take a seat.” Phoenix nods toward the table while Tarik closes the door behind me.
Reluctantly, I make my way around to the opposite side and take one of the empty chairs across from what I’m now beginning to think of as the firing squad. Spencer takes a seat beside me, which makes me feel marginally better. As the captain of the team, Spencer’s job duties are pretty much limited to on-ice conversations, as well as a few additional promotional endeavors, so it isn’t exactly normal for him to be here, but I’m not complaining. Especially since I know he’ll have my back.
“So, would you like to explain this personal issue while I’ve got Phil here?” Phoenix prompts, obviously prepared to get right down to business.
“Not exactly personal, considering I don’t know the chick who made the allegations.” I lean back, making it appear as though I’m keeping my temper in check. Every damn time I think about the woman who trashed my name, stating that I “manhandled” her during an evening we spent together, I see red. It doesn’t even matter that she recanted the statement; people remember the accusation, not that it’s a lie.
And it most definitely is a lie. For one, we never spent an evening together. Hell, I didn’t even talk to her. And two, I might be a lot of things, but never once have I ever put my hands on a woman. Not like that.
Phil the Lawyer glances down at a sheet of paper in front of him. “Have you ever met … Wendy Jacobsen?”
“Yes,” I admit truthfully, although “met” is really a stretch. “Though I didn’t get her name.”
“She says she met you in Detroit, back on March thirtieth of this year,” the lawyer continues.
Yep, that’s what she claims. I even know there is a picture of the two of us together at a bar where I’d gone to to lick my wounds after our devastating loss that night. “Technically, she did meet me.”
“At the bar?”
“She asked for a picture,” I explain. It hadn’t even been a memorable moment, so back when all this shit started, it’d taken some time for me to even figure out when or where I’d seen her.
“So you didn’t go back to her hotel room with her?”
I shake my head. It was one of those not-so-rare instances when I went back to my own hotel room, alone. Rumor is that I’m some sort of player, but that isn’t exactly the truth. Probably doesn’t help that I don’t quell the gossip, choosing instead to let people believe what they want to believe. One thing I’ve learned for a fact, pictures do not tell a truthful story, but people all too quickly think they do.
Regardless, I went back to my room alone. Unfortunately, Spencer had found himself a puck bunny to shack up with that night, so I don’t even have a witness.