Page 7 of The Other Side of Wild
“Oh, the usual,” she replies, the corners of her mouth pulling into a soft grin. “Brain fuel, post-workout recharge, a change of scenery to get some work done. Maybe a bit of people-watching.” Her voice dips as she leans in my direction. Before I realize it, I’m mirroring her movement, closing the distance between us like she’s going to tell me a secret. “My favorite pastime is making up stories about people as they walk in. Like the poor guy who walked in shaking his hair out like a wet dog.”
Her eyes dance with mischief, a deep rumble sounds from my chest; I shake my head, flinging water droplets everywhere, causing her to giggle and put her hands in front of her face to shield herself from the water. “Ouch!” I bring my hand to my chest, feigning hurt. “Shots fired.”
“What are you working on?” I ask as I plop myself down in the beanbag across the table from her.
She pauses, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she looks up at me, her gaze lingering just a second too long. “Wouldn’t you like to know? She teases.
I lean back, putting my hands behind my head, and a smirk slides across my face. “I would actually.”
Her eyes narrow, and she doesn’t look away. She shakes her head a little, and when she looks back up at me, professional Hannah is back. All traces of her playfulness are gone.
“Well, I was going to talk to you and some of the guys on the team about this when you had some free time.” She turns her computer until it faces me; the words “Tampa Times Charity Event” are typed out across the top, and a list of bullet points falls under it.
Furrowing my brow, I ask, “What does that have to do with the team?”
“My boss put me in charge of planning the event; she thought it would be beneficial if some of you guys could help, too. It’s for some of the local youth sports programs; if you’re too busy, she said even donating something we could use for the auction part would be a huge help.”
“I have a few minutes. Let me get my muffin and some coffee, and I’ll be right back. Then you can tell me about it. Is that okay?”
“Yes, of course, take your time.” But I don’t. I hurried to the counter, ordering my blueberry muffin and my cold brew coffee with 2% milk and a couple of shots of vanilla, and found my way back to the fluffy chair across from her.
“So, what’s the event? And what do you need from me?”
The weight of the morning lifts further as her voice fills with excitement. She weaves a vivid picture of a charity event unlike any I’ve been to. Instead of the usual formal gala, she wants to hold a carnival on one of the piers. Her passion is contagious, and I find myself captivated by her ideas.
“I mean, it’s for the kids,” her voice brimming with excitement. “So why not make it something they’d actually enjoy? No fancy dresses, no schmoozing-just good-hearted fun.”
As she outlines her plans, I find it impossible not to get drawn in. She has ideas for everything, from a dunk tank where kids can dunk their favorite athletes to multiple carnival games. Instead of having food catered by the big names around town, she wants local vendors to bring in food and snacks, be it mom-and-pop restaurants, food trucks, or those who show up to local farmers' markets to sell their unique creations.
“For the auction,” she claps her hands in front of her, a smile plastered on her face. “You can help me with some of it. Anything you’d like to sign and donate would be fantastic. I was thinking maybe we could see about getting tickets to a game, too. I’ll talk to your PR director about it. We’re going to see if we can get some from the Pirates and the Strikers, too.”
I find myself nodding along, but my attention has slipped from the carnival to her. Her eyes sparkle with such intensity, and that’s all I can see. Her smile doesn’t falter for a second. She’s completely immersed in her vision, and the way she gestures with her hands is mesmerizing. It’s adorable, really. There’s a passion here that goes beyond the event; it’s like getting an inside look at the heart of this woman.
“What do you think?” she asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“I think it sounds like a lot of fun. My younger brother, Tatum, plays for the Strikers. I can ask him if he can get me some signed jerseys, maybe a signed soccer ball. My dad also played for the Hawks back in his day. I know for a fact that he’d sign one of anything you asked for to auction off. If you didn’t want to do typical carnival games or wanted an alternative, we could get some guys from the other local teams to split a section of the pier where kids could come and try out the sport with some of the players. See what they take an interest in if they’re still looking for their perfect fit.”
“Oh my gosh. Grey, that’s brilliant!” Grey, I’ve never liked the shortened version of my name, it reminds me of a storm cloud, which hits a little too close to home. But coming from her, I like it a lot.
We talk a bit longer as we finish our coffee; I get her phone number so I can continue to offer my brilliant ideas whenever they pop into my head. Yep! That’s totally the only reason I got it. “See you tonight, Kitten. Thanks for being my coffee date.”
I throw her a wink, and the most adorable blush covers her cheeks; she lightly shakes her head, and a smirk graces her lips.
“Later, Dozer, if I don’t see you before you head out to the ice, don’t knock anyone over, and go kick some butt.” With a smile and a nod, I’m out the door. The five-minute walk back to my apartment is spent replaying our interaction. There’s something so intriguing about her. She’s like a code I want to crack.
Just as I reach my building, the dream from last night replays,tread lightly Greyson.The last thing I need is a repeat of my last relationship; everything I love is here. My whole family is here, and that’s the main reason I fought so hard to be traded here.
I pull out my phone as I walk up the stairs and search, “How not fall for someone at the drop of a hat?” The results are entirely unhelpful. God knew I’d be unstoppable if he made me mentally stable with the ability to slow my roll when it comes to women. So, instead, he made me obsessed with the thought of having a family of my own while struggling with depression and pockets of uncontrollable anger as a side effect.Winning.
My mood has drastically improved since this morning. I took a nap, then had some avocado toast on the balcony, letting the sun melt away my stress. By the time I get to the rink, I’m in a completely different frame of mind. The flip-flop of my brain some days gives me whiplash. As I shut the door to my SUV, Monroe comes up beside me, clapping his hand over my shoulder.
“Sorry for biting your head off earlier.”
“We all have our days. Are you doing any better?” I nod as we fall into step toward the players' entrance. The silence feels easy, each of us slipping into game mode. By the time we reach the locker room, we’re met with the usual pre-game energy.
We go through our game day routines; this part of the day is sacred. Superstitions remember? My routine is simple: get dressed, put my left skate on first, and pop my gummy bears right before heading to the ice. Today, though, I added something extra. I snap the collar around my ankle before putting my sock and shin guard on. Grabbing my phone out of my bag, I angle it just right and snap a picture. It may be ridiculous, but who cares?
Before I can overthink it, I fire off a text, already chuckling to myself.