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“What could Malik need you for?”
“Something with Larry?” Ramesh shrugs.
Gah! I’m totally over people just inserting themselves into my job like it’s no big deal. “Fine.”
Ramesh grins. “Like it’s a hardship for you to film all the hot hockey players walking in wearing their suits. Especially that one new guy.”
“Shut up.”
Once Ramesh and I talk through the list of events and who’s filming what before, during, and after the game, I excuse myself to get on with my own long task list. Which is a great distraction from thinking about the game, thinking about Logan, and thinking about Brandon showing up.
And then, it’s time. Making sure I've got a walkie talkie and a cordless charger for when my phone inevitably runs out of juice, I head down to the locker room entrance.
Because the guys drive themselves to the Summit on game day, we film them coming into the building. A little better than seeing Eli looking like a million bucks while climbing out of a beat-up truck no one would pay fifty dollars for.
The walkie talkie on my hip squawks to life, and our outside security guard’s voice comes through. “They’re coming in, Ms. Douglas.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
Depending on the time, the sunlight frames the guys as they open the doors, creating a dramatic silhouette before they come into full view. Today is one of those days.
Unfortunately, the bright shock of sunlight also means I can’t tell who’s coming in the door until it shuts behind them. I squint, trying to guess who’s first today. Nathan?
Yep—it’s Nathan, and I’m proud of my ability to know these guys well enough to identify them by shape. His long hair is down today, and I wish we had one of those giant fans to create a supermodel effect. The man’s hair is deserving of shampoo endorsements.
“Hey, Nate. Ready to knock out some teeth today?” I tease, hoping to one time capture a smile from him. But alas, today is not that day.
“Always,” Nathan says. Then he pauses in front of me and holds out a flower I didn’t see him holding.
It’s a pink rose. I just stare at it for a moment. “For me?”
“It’s not forme,” he says.
Thankfully, the thorns have been cut off so I don’t end up bleeding when Nathan shoves it at me and then storms down the hallway to the locker room.
The guys have never brought me anything before. Definitely not flowers. And Nathan isn’t the type to do something like this. My heart rate kicks up. I have a sneaking—and hopeful—suspicion it has something to do with Logan.
I don’t have time to think too hard because Van and Eli arrive together. I burst out laughing the moment the doors close and they come into view. Van is looking dapper in a navy suit and wing-tip shoes. Eli is wearing a suit jacket and tie … with a kilt.
“Seriously?” I ask.
Eli grins. “I wanted to try a new look. I’m part Scottish. You like?”
“Don’t ask what he’s wearing under it,” Van says.
“Wasn’t going to.”
Van passes me first, holding out a pink rose and a smile.
“Thank you,” I say, dipping my nose to smell it.
“Don’t thankme.” Van smirks and then keeps walking.
Eli stops in front of me, drops to a knee and holds up yet another pink rose. “Milady,” he says in a horrendous Scottish brogue, “please accept this token of favor.”
“Get out of here,” I tell him, but my grin matches his as he bounces back to his feet and heads down the hall.
And so it goes. Every time the doors open, my heart leaps, wondering if it’s going to be Logan. And every guy who walks in, even the guys I don’t have as much rapport with, hands me a rose.
