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“Maybe. He’s Austin Murray. He owns AMDD. You’ve probably seen the logo on the scoreboard and some other signage.”
Indeed I had. I liked the futuristic logo. Austin didn’t look like any sponsor I’d ever met—who were usually older and in some sort of business casual attire. He wore simple jeans and a sweater along with super cute glasses perched on his nose that he’d already pushed up twice in the few seconds I’d focused on him.
“We should go say hi.” David put his hand on my forearm to get me to follow him. “Dammit. He wasn’t on the list of sponsors for the weekend.”
Austin looked like a regular guy next door, and I kind of wanted to snuggle up to him because he looked cozy and adorable in the sweater.
Damn, thoughts like that didn’t crop up often. Of course I liked looking at guys, but curling up with one didn’t enter into the equation. Snuggling led to relationships, and that didn’t fit in right now.
The closer we got, the more his stunning eyes stood out. I couldn’t quite decide the color with the all the lights swirling around, but they were light, and they enhanced the appeal of his dark, curly hair and bit of stubble on his cheeks.
“Mr. Murray, not sure if you remember me, I’m David Moore with the Detroit PR office. It’s good to see you. Are you here for the game? No one told me you were coming.”
Austin looked decidedly uncomfortable, and for a moment, he tensed like he might bolt. Composure quickly replaced that though as he relaxed and pasted on a confident smile—one that I recognized from having met sponsors before who always wanted to impress. His eyes even seemed to darken a bit, like he’d flipped a switch to activate business Austin.
“Yes, of course, David. Hello. Please call me Austin. I’m just taking in the game as a fan and wanted to check out the auction—decided to leave the business behind for the weekend.”
“Great. If we can do anything for you though, please just let us know. Happy to help out even while you’re here as a fan. Do you know Kyle Pressgrove?”
I extended my hand, and Austin looked between me and it. Did I scare him?
“Um. Yes. Hi.” He finally took my hand and cleared his throat before he spoke again. There was some of that Austin that had been on display when David first talked to him. “I’m a big fan. Great to meet you.”
Despite the nervousness, his shake was strong.
“Good to meet you as well. Enjoying the city so far?”
“Just arrived a few minutes ago and noticed all this when I was checking in. It’s really great that you’re all taking the time to support something like this.”
“I’m always happy to help organizations like Hockey Allies. My best friend helped organize it, and my brother would be disappointed if I didn’t do this in his city.”
“Hockey runs in the family then?”
“I think my brother would debate that.” A chuckle escaped. “He feels like I got more than my fair share of the skills. He plays better than he gives himself credit for. He’s a defenseman on one of the teams in the Chicago Gay Hockey Association.”
“Kyle?” My name came over the PA. “Can we please get you for your final fitting?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to…”
“No worries. Um, do you think…” Austin paused to adjust his glasses, the movement making my breath catch. “Can I maybe buy my favorite player a drink after you’re done?”
As I considered, David’s eyes bored into me, willing me to say yes. “Sure. I can meet you in the bar in a few minutes.”
The stammers he made when he got nervous only added to the cuteness that had me wanting to snuggle.
The fitting proved worse than the rehearsal. I hated fussing over my appearance, and the tugs, tweaks, hemming, and whatnot got old fast. It turned out well though—black suit, purple vest, black shirt, and matte silver tie worked well. No matter what else happened, I wouldn’t be embarrassed by my appearance.
“Damn,” G said as he walked out of the dressing room, handing off his clothes to one of the stylists. “Can I bid on you?”
“You can’t afford me.” My reply was ridiculous, but I tried to sell it with all the smugness I could muster.
He stepped up and inspected me closer. “You really do look great.”
“Thanks, man. You got all the brunch details?”
“Yup. Bobby sent them. Can’t wait to see Mamma P. Catch you in the morning.”
We said our goodbyes just in time for another stylist to come talk about my hair. I kept it long enough that it could dry and fall pretty well on its own. For events, I usually slicked it back so it’d look more formal, and we agreed that’d work for tomorrow.
