“Look, can you do it now?”
“I’m at work,” she protested. And there was no reason to let this woman think she was a pushover.
“I’ll need an answer by two, otherwise I have to call someone else. In fact, I might just do that anyway, as we can’t afford to delay any longer.”
“But…” She bit her lip. She really needed the money. And God hadn’t exactly put a check in her spirit to say no, had He? What if this opportunity was actually from Him?
“I’m going to read through the contract now, and I’ll get back to you immediately.”
“Thank you. I’ll hold off calling anyone else until two PM.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Good.”
“Oh, one more thing. Who would be my celebrity?”
“Well, we wouldn’t normally tell you, but seeing you’re behind the others by a week I suppose I can.” Joanne whistled softly. “And oh, you got the cream of the crop, Bailey.”
The way she said that, Bailey wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not.
“He’s an athlete. You might’ve heard of him. He plays for Winnipeg’s hockey team. Luc Blanchard.”
CHAPTER 3
Unbelievable.
What a difference forty-eight hours could make. Two days ago, he’d been sitting in the GM’s office, being talked up as the next captain. Today, he was standing in an airport, waiting for his flight to Toronto, trepidation eating him like he was a new kid on the first day of school. He hated feeling insecure. Hated it. And he had a funny feeling that this whole experience he’d just said yes to was going to be one massive ride on the insecurity train. Starting with meeting the perky person who was going to be his dance partner. Ugh.
He glanced around, but nobody fitted the image of the woman’s picture he’d been sent. Bailey Donovan was super pretty, but the ballerina costume made her look so fragile, like a breath of wind could blow her away. And here he was, built like a truck, he’d probably scare her into next year with a single exhale. Why had he said yes?
A silent groan escaped. Because the team wanted it. Because his agent had pushed him to do it, saying it’d be great for future endorsements. Mostly because his mom had been excited, sounding more excited about the thought of him dancing than being captain, actually. Which was disconcerting, but whatever. His dad had laughed, but said as long as he didn’t get cut from the show first that it couldn’t hurt. That hadn’t exactly filled him with confidence, so he hadn’t dared tell the online Bible study guys, only asking them to pray for him for wisdom for “a new opportunity” as he’d casually phrased it. Yeah, a new opportunity to be publicly humiliated. He just hoped this Bailey chick knew a thing or two about helping prime movers actually move.
The announcement for his flight was made, and he picked up his bag, moving to the business line, where he flashed his phone to have his ticket scanned. The airline steward’s smile widened, as if recognizing his name, and he half-smiled then walked down the airbridge. He didn’t mind fans, and as captain, he’d need to get used to being in the spotlight more. But still, this little break in Toronto, before returning to face the media and do team stuff, felt like his last chance to be anonymous before the proverbial hit the fan. He wouldn’t be anonymous after the TV promo aired this Friday.
He was greeted at the plane door, then guided to his seat, a comfy big-sized seat for a taller-than-average man, complete with view out the window. He stowed his stuff, then got his phone out, as the chat from two days ago filled the screen.
Mike Vaughan from Calgary had asked what people were doing for the national holiday, which had met with various responses ranging from picnics with friends and family, to big city fireworks, to a tropical sunset picture from the newly-married Franklin James. Yeah, he wasn’t going to think about Franklin and Hannah on their honeymoon. He sent a shrugging emoji, more because he needed to put something in the chat to show he wasn’t avoiding them, than because he didn’t know.
His nose wrinkled. Dancing on TV. What would the others say? What would sports reporter Hannah say? He hated to think what people would say behind his back, or on national TV, especially when they saw how bad he’d be. At least Hannah was nice, and unlikely to mock him. She was a real deal kind of woman he could trust, even if she wasn’t his type. Real deal women were scarce, although he’d met a few as more of the Bible study group’s single guys had fallen into relationships. Holly Karlsson was a no-bull woman. Neither was the girlfriend of the latest of the Bible study group’s single guys to fall, Ryan’s Goth-like girlfriend, Sylvie, whose relationship with their Edmonton friend had sparked concern earlier this year. But it was all good now, even if she was sometimes a little too direct and blunt for his liking.
He hadn’t had a girlfriend for years, not since he’d found Jesus and realized celibacy was supposed to be the name of the game until he was married, and as he had zero interest in marriage or a relationship until his hockey career was done, he was prepared to wait. Which was why there was zero chance of him failing to adhere to the “family-friendly” clause in his Dance Off contract about avoiding relationships until the end of filming with his—or any other—dance partner or contestants on the show. He rolled his eyes. As if.
Nope. As much as he found this Bailey person pretty, she looked way too delicate to suit him. Now if she’d been like the girl in the café yesterday, he might’ve been interested, with her girl-next-door looks and sunny smile everything he liked, even if she was clumsier than him. But she wasn’t, so he was safe. Except for wondering what Bailey would be like, and how on earth he’d manage to still be cool enough after this experience and not be teased mercilessly by the guys.
By now the seats behind him were filling, and he wondered if maybe Bailey was on a different flight. Dance Off’s email last night had contained this ticket to Toronto, apparently for interviews and “promotion” which scared him silly. At least he’d not had anything else to organize. Which made him wonder again about this Bailey chick and how desperate she had to be to agree to do this last minute. Which only resulted in him realizing that much the same could be said about him. At least he could talk about this as being for charity. Bailey must be doing this for the dollars, or to boost her social media profile. He rolled his eyes.
“Excuse me.”
The feminine voice drew his gaze up, and his jaw sagged.
It was her. Coffee girl.
Her head tilted. “I think you’re in my seat.”
He blinked. “What? No. This is mine.”
Her eyebrows rose, as the people behind complained about being forced to wait.
He pulled out his phone, checked the seat allocation, and—man, she was right. “Sorry. I’ll move.”
The protests behind grew louder, as he stood and shifted to the aisle with a ducked head. Heaven forbid the locals got annoyed with their new hockey captain before it was even officially announced—there’d be plenty of time for that later. He brushed past her, and she slipped into the seat he’d just vacated. He plopped down next to her, head still averted to avoid recognition from their fellow passengers. He cleared his throat, glanced at his seatmate. “Um, hey.”
Seriously? That was the best he could do? But the realization that the pretty coffee woman from yesterday was sitting next to him, would be sitting beside him for the next two and a half hours, had filled his mouth and lungs with rocks. His brain, too, as he was lost for words, breath, and any coherent thoughts. How—? Who—? Why—? Lord?
He cleared his throat again—by now she probably thought he had a problem with phlegm—and tried to smile. He didn’t smile much—his teeth weren’t great, thanks to too many pucks and sticks over the years—and he knew he often got cast as the serious one in team pics. Sure, he could paste on a version of charm the GM seemed to appreciate, but it was something he’d had to work at, as it didn’t come naturally. “I’m Luc.”
She studied him, her cheeks pinking a little, before nodding. “I know.”
Huh. Had she recognized him yesterday? Plenty of other fans seemed to have, including the two women who’d been ordering and non-subtly checking him out. Which was exactly why he didn’t do relationships. Life was cruising along very well without complications like a woman. Even if this particular chick, the only one to pique his interest in recent years, was one he’d never thought he’d meet again. Until he returned for more coffee, maybe.
Conscious that they’d be seated next to each other for the next few hours, and that he needed to keep the conversation going, his thoughts tipped back to their exchange. “Well, uh, I hope you’ve heard good things.”
Her delicate eyebrows lifted, and he heard the arrogance in that statement. “Not that I only do good things. I mean…” Judging from that squinty gaze she was leveling him, he should probably stop talking. He exhaled heavily. “Do you have a name?” Yep. That wasn’t much better.
“Of course I do.” She turned to clip her belt on.
