Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“Thanks, Ruben.” I hand him one of the boxes of chocolate I snagged from last night’s party. “And this is for you.”
“Whoa!” Ruben’s grin is a rare break from the serious expression I normally see on him. “What did I do to deserve this mid-morning snack?”
“You’re you,” I say, smiling as I head inside and take the escalator down to the quiet concession area. Training camp hasn’t started yet, and it’s almost eerie here without the usual buzz.
I pass the huge posters of the players on the walls, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Miles’s larger-than-life image. I don’t need more thoughts of him crowding my brain, especially with my dad walking toward me. On game days, he wears a suit, but today, he’s in a button-down and slacks. I know Riley picked out those trendy sneakers—he wouldn’t know that style or brand on his own, much less choose it.
“My chocolate supplier,” he says with a grin.
“Junkie,” I tease, handing him the box.
He hugs it to his chest. “You’re my favorite daughter today.”
I roll my eyes. “Such high praise.”
He tips his head toward the corridor to his office. “I got coffee for me. Tea for you.”
Dad clearly wants me to stay for a bit. “Very strategic,” I observe.
Reaching the management level, he scans his employee card, then holds the door open for me. “That’s because I am pretty strategic, Leighton.”
Yes, that’s his job.
As we head down the hallway, I spot Mako, the team’s photographer. We’ve worked together on a few projects when Everly hired me for freelance shoots. He wears a Sea Dogs T-shirt and a hat with the Japanese flag, and when he sees me, he smiles like he has something up his sleeve.
“Just the person I wanted to see,” he says.
It can only be a professional thing, and my father excuses himself from the shop-talk and tells me he’ll be in his office.
“What’s going on?” I ask Mako. “How is Sarah’s pregnancy going?” Last time I worked for the team, he and his partner were expecting their first child.
“Knock on wood—” He raps the concrete wall. “She’s supposed to deliver in a couple weeks, and I just got approved for paternity leave. Three whole months.”
“Nice,” I say.
“I’m pretty excited about it.” His dark eyes twinkle as he rubs his palms together. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I requested that you fill in for me. I just gave the director of marketing a heads-up, so—”
I freeze. “You did what?”
He grins. “I gave Chanda your name. You know I love your work. And I trust you to maintain the high quality I expect.”
I need to hear that again. My head is spinning, and my heart skips in disbelief. “You recommended me for your job?”
He narrows his eyes and wags a finger. “Not my job job. Just a temporary fill-in.”
“Right. That’s what I meant.” I mentally flip through my portfolio of sports photography. While I’ve shot plenty of action pictures over the years, I’m not at the level required for pro sports. “I don’t have your experience with action shots though.”
“No problem. Rae will do the on-ice photos and videos during the games themselves.”
Rae is the other photographer. She and Mako usually rotate between promo work and on-ice shots, trading off as it suits them.
Slowly, I process this unexpected news. What does Rae think about doing all the games? And there’s my dad—will he mind if I do more work for the team? From his reaction when Everly first hired me for a freelance assignment, I’m pretty sure he’ll be elated.
But I don’t want to assume anything, so I ask Mako for more specifics. “What do you have in mind exactly?”
“With the season starting up soon, our promo needs are heavy—headshots, photo opps, all sorts of training camp and pre-season events to hype up the fans. There’s so much to do that we figured my stand-in should focus on the promo shots while Rae concentrates on the games.” He pauses to give me an excited, expectant look. “Want to do it?”
My mind races through my calendar for the next few months. I have some studio work booked with brands and for my boudoir work. But I’m not busy all day, every day. “I have some shoots on my schedule. But if the hours here are flexible enough, I think I can fit it all in.”
Holy shit. Did I just say yes to a new temporary job?
“Chanda is pretty cool about working out the hours and all that. Especially since it’s not a typical nine-to-five.” He rocks back on his heels. “It’s not a done deal yet, but can I tell Chanda you’re interested? Because you’re the only one I recommended.”
Wow.
The only one.
I’m floored. Especially since the Sea Dogs pay well. Really well. Eleanor Greer owns the team with her husband, but she bankrolled it and makes the final decisions—and she’s committed to hiring women and paying above marketplace rates. I know this firsthand from freelance projects.