a different state. We don’t see each other unless it’s for a matchup between our teams.”
Maybe never again off the field.
That thought makes me sadder than it should. What the hell is wrong with me these days?
Fire incinerates her previous calm. “Oh my God! I’m not a prostitute! I’m not angling for a threesome! I’m only here because you completely embarrassed your team in a very public venue, and our bosses think you need some help!”
Help isn’t something I’ve had since around the time I met the guy who apparently started all this. She’s got my attention. I’ll give her that. “Who are you again?”
She crosses her arms over her chest in a way that suggests her breasts are actually off-limits, but she’s ready to get down to business anyway. “My name is Tori Russo. I’m your new PR manager.”
Cancel all the promises I’ve made myself to never commit physical violence again.
I’m going to kill Alex Fossoway.
Maybe twice. Just for fun.
The whispers are too low to make out, but their unmistakable stares raise the hair on the back of my neck. It’s the exact same scene I just barely escaped unscathed, but I’m not sure I’ll be as lucky for round two even though this is a much more familiar environment than the weight room.
Why did I have to lie and tell him I’m his new PR manager? There’s self-preservation and achieving a desired outcome, then there’s being overly ambitious. If any of these actual marketing reps find out what I’ve done, I’m well…done for.
The usual suspects stand around the proverbial water cooler, undoubtedly placing bets on my success…or much more likely failure. It shouldn’t please me as much as it does at the prospect of informing them it was a wash. Actually, I don’t know that for sure. Mitchell never gave any indication he was agreeable to our forced partnership. He simply stormed away without a word when I told him who I was and why I sought him out. It’s not even like my little white lie helped the situation.
“So?” The ringleader, Kaylie, steps away from the pack, her eyes bright and her perfectly painted lips poised in a hopeful smile. “How did it go?”
They’re going to find out anyway. No sense lying about it. “They thought—he thought—I was a prostitute.”
Kaylie cackles. Everyone else has the decency to at least try to hide their smiles behind their coffee mugs. The effect of which is completely spoiled by one person in the group handing a twenty over to Kaylie’s waiting rose-gold, talon-tipped clutches.
The only loser who didn’t bet against me stands in front of me with a frown, studying me from head to toe. “I really thought I chose the perfect outfit to dissuade them from that belief.”
“Wait a minute.” My cheeks heat for the umpteenth time. They may never be cool again as long as I’m stuck in this horrid assignment. “You all knew they would think I was a hired sex worker?”
“Of course. They’ve been pulling that same prank on Mitchell since the game when this all blew up.” Kaylie raises a well-manicured eyebrow in clear challenge. “You didn’t know?”
The entirety of the PR department waits with bated breath for my de facto admission of ignorance. It’s no secret they resent me for being handed this job. Why shouldn’t they? I’m the lowest woman on the totem pole as an intern, and any of them would kill for this opportunity to work one-on-one with an up and coming player on the Wolves’ roster. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been ordered to be a glorified babysitter.
“I didn’t know,” I confess on a whisper.
“It was the shoes.” David, one of my only co-workers who I’m pretty sure isn’t out for my blood, clucks his tongue like a mother hen. “I shouldn’t have put you in stilettos for this initial meeting. Never mind the nude color, they still scream sex on a stick.”
Kaylie laughs. “Nudity and sex are definitely two things they were expecting.”
“I thought the whole reason the team keeps pranking Mitchell is because he never has sex?” another co-worker, Mason, pipes up. “His nickname in the locker room is Monk for a reason.”
His nickname in the locker room is Monk? Really? No wonder he’s so salty.
David turns a severe expression toward the group still huddled around the department Keurig. “You all know his nickname, but you didn’t know for sure whether he’s finally accepted his teammates’ offerings?”
I almost want to laugh at the way they all cower before