Being the personal assistant of a professional athlete should be glamorous. In reality, it sucked.

Aurora Day sat in the lobby of the Ice Palace waiting for Michael and Tom Harding to emerge from the office of Newport Beach Seagulls' owner, Seraphina Hanson. She fiddled with the hemline of her skirt as she flitted her eyes around the room. Everything was neat and quaint. There were lots of pictures of the beach, and Aurora could tell they were of Newport. She wasn't from here, but considering the people of Newport Beach seemed proud of their affiliation with the beach, it only made sense.

She was tempted to pull out her phone and read on her Kindle app but didn't want to seem unprofessional. Michael made it quite clear that as his PA, not only did she have to be the best, but she needed to look the best as well. Not aesthetically, but she had to dress well and appear a certain way. Since he was paying a six-figure salary, she had no problem adhering to every request. Which meant she had to wait.

There were little pamphlets on the coffee table about season ticket pricing. Aurora shot her eyebrows in the sky. Despite winning the Stanley Cup last month, the ticket prices were relatively low—at least compared to Philadelphia. Granted, Aurora's hockey knowledge insisted that the west coast's hockey market was smaller, but it was rapidly growing. The fact that Seattle was going to get their own hockey team in a couple of years only proved that theory.

A door clicked open and Aurora snapped her head up in time to see Michael and Tom—both dressed in sharp suits; Michael, a charcoal color, and Tom a blue—being escorted out by a woman Aurora's age. Seraphina Hanson was as beautiful as she was ballsy. Aurora glanced at the high heels on Seraphina's feet. Those had to be at least four inches, and she was walking in them the way Aurora walked in her signature flats.

Aurora stood, pointedly ignoring Tom.

"Rory," Michael said when he reached earshot. "Do me a favor and book Tom and me for a workout session tomorrow after our morning skate at the Palace. I want to see what life is like here, what this facility can offer."

"Book me in as well," Tom said, standing much too close for Aurora's personal preference.

"I don't work for you," Aurora muttered while Michael spoke to Seraphina about times. "How many times do I have to remind you of that?"

Tom shrugged. "I like to think we're a package deal," he said. "You work for my brother, you work for me."

"After the whole debacle with Alicia Rhodes, I thought that was the last thing you wanted," Aurora pointed out, shooting her brows up and sliding her phone in her blazer pocket.

The smile slowly slid off of his face. Aurora pointedly ignored the guilt pooling in her stomach. It was a low blow, she knew, but Tom liked to annoy her on purpose so, in her opinion, it was fair.

Even she knew that was a weak argument.

"Yeah, well—"

Before Tom could finish, Michael interrupted, probably not even realizing his brother was about to say something. "You have us down for seven and then nine in the morning," he said. "I want to get breakfast as well. Is there any place around here you'd recommend?"

Aurora pulled out her phone once more, ready to take any information Seraphina Hanson was going to give her.

"The Stuft Surfer is closed for construction," she said, "but the Lighthouse Cafe at Marina Park is perfect."

"Rory—"

"Making reservations for you both at ten," Aurora said, her fingers zipping quickly on the keypad.

"We get it," Tom said. "You're fast."

Aurora shot him a look and rolled her eyes. Michael cleared his throat and she realized that she had just reacted to her boss's arrogant brother in front of Seraphina Hanson. Her face turned red—she could feel the heat sliding just underneath the surface of her skin—and she slowly put her phone away. She couldn't look Michael in the eye, not right now.

"Thank you for meeting with us, Ms. Hanson," Michael said.

"Yes, definitely!" Tom exclaimed. "You'll definitely be hearing from us soon."

Michael smacked his brother across the chest and Aurora bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning. She fell in line behind Michael and Tom, rolling her shoulders back and tilting her head up, trying to showcase that she belonged here, with these two men. Most of the time, it was easy to forget that she was from a small town in the Midwest who headed to New York to realize her dreams of becoming a published writer only to make ends meet as a secretary and that barely covered rent, let alone the rest of her bills. However, there were times she felt like a smudge against a fresh new canvas, something that definitely didn't belong and had no business trying to assimilate in this environment.

Newport Beach would be a change from Philly, from Creek Point, Kansas. But it wouldn't be completely unwelcome.

When the three stepped outside, a gentle sea breeze smacked Aurora in the face. For a moment, Aurora paused, closed her eyes, and inhaled the cool, crisp air. She could live here. At least, she could live nearby, in a flat. It might even be nice to chill the pace from the city to the suburban way of life. Sure, she would have to buy a cheap car to get around but it would be nice to see palm trees swaying in the breeze and have different places to hike—including the beach.

"…set in stone." Michael's voice pestered her from her daydream and she opened her eyes. "Rory, when do we meet with Arizona?"

"Next week," Aurora recited.

"Let's cancel Arizona," Tom said. "I'd prefer to stay here."

"Everyone would prefer to stay here," Michael said, shifting his weight before they headed from the doorway to the Ice Palace over to the Range Rover the brothers were renting. "The beach, the environment, the fact that they have the pieces to make a Stanley Cup team. But is it the right fit for us? That's what we have to find out."

"Of course we fit in," Tom insisted. Michael opened the backseat door for Aurora to slide into, while Tom got in the passenger seat. "I know I do. What's to think about?"

"A lot of things," Michael said. "Cogs don't fit anywhere, Tom. We have to find the right places to fit. What if we don't gel with Ryan and Underwood and Negan? Then what? We need chemistry in order to ensure that we find our place here. I don't want to be a bad player on a good team."

Aurora stepped back. She tried not to pay attention when the two brothers talked about things like this. It wasn't her business and she didn't like to make it her business. If Michael wanted her opinion—which he rarely ever did—she would be more than happy to give it to him. For now, though, she would focus on being his assistant and doing what was required of her.

The tall palm trees swayed in the distance. She could hear the rustle of their leaves together. There was something calming about this place. Certainly, during games, adrenaline was coursing through people, people were ready to watch a good game or engage in fights, and tension filled bodies when the countdown was on and the game was tied. But during the day, when there weren't many people here to begin with, it felt like the perfect place to be if one wanted peace and quiet.

The clear, powder-blue sky was open and vast, mirroring its darker counterpart in the ocean. From where Aurora stood, she could see the waves crash onto the beach, despite the fact that there was paved road between them. Cars drove by consistently, but there wasn't traffic—yet. She knew it would clog up soon, however. At least, that was what she read on the Ice Palace message boards.

"What do you think?"

Aurora blinked and glanced back at the two men.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked, shifting his eyes over to Aurora, placing his hands on hips. "Why are you bugging her about this?"

"I'm not—am I bugging you?" Tom tilted his head to the side. "I just want an opinion and the only person who really knows us and what we're about is good ol' Rory. Rory, what do you think about staying with the Gulls?"

In all honesty, Rory wasn't quite sure what to say, only because Tom barely asked her anything. Tom was ridiculously handsome but also a bit of a dick. It was best if she and Tom weren't in the same room together, let alone discuss anything because it wasn't going to end up in a friendly discussion. Rather, she would give her opinion, he would tell her how that opinion was wrong, and then they'd argue about something else entirely. Sometimes, the roles were reversed but the outcome was the same. Yet now, looking at him and his eager eyes, she realized he genuinely wanted to hear her thoughts on this.

She shifted her weight. "Well," she began.

"See, she doesn't know, she doesn't have an opinion," Michael pointed out.

Tom didn't take his eyes off of her but he waved his brother away. "Give the girl a chance to speak, Michael," he instructed.

Aurora ignored the girl comment, but promised herself she would come back to it later.

"I think this place would suit you both," Aurora said. She felt bolstered by Tom's enthusiasm and she couldn't help the large smile on her face as she continued to speak. "It's by the beach. The market is small, which means you guys would be able to lead actual lives here without needing to worry about paparazzi or any other types of distractions that could affect your game, Tom."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Tom asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I think you know exactly what it means," Aurora said. She turned to Michael, ready to continue, when her excitement waned momentarily. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I think it would be good. Michael, you've always said you don't really like the city vibe. Here, it's suburban, kind of even beach-town easiness you won't find anywhere else."

"True," Michael acknowledged with a nod of his head. "But I'm concerned about the development. See, the issue I have with a small market is the fact that it doesn't lend itself well to actual development. Sure, I've already made it to the NHL. I've been in the game for ten plus years, but I need to be able to stay competitive. We all know this is a young man's sport. Experience can only get you so far. I'm a few years shy of retirement, if all goes well and I'm not taken out by any injury or illness. Do they have a program that can help you develop?"

"I know Ken Brown instituted the off-season program that any player from any club can participate in," Tom said.

Michael looked at Aurora before shooting his brother a look of surprise. "And how do you know this?" he asked.

"I actually research prospective places where we could go," Tom said. Aurora picked up the slight offense in his tone. In all honesty. Aurora couldn't blame him, especially considering the fact that in Michael's entire speech about concern, he did not mention Tom once.

"Hmm."

"Anyway," Aurora jumped in. "Tom's right. Cherney is one of those rare all-year-round coaches. Hanson pays him and it's a voluntary program designed to help players keep in shape in the off-season. Nearly every player on the Gulls team last season participated in it, and it definitely helped them."

Tom snorted. "They won a Stanley Cup so that's a bit of an understatement," he said.

Michael pursed his lips and nodded his head. "Let's discuss this more at lunch," he said, opening the front door to the driver's seat of the Range Rover they were renting. "I need sustenance in me if I'm going to give it my full attention."

"Okay," Aurora said, climbing into the back.

Tom sat in the passenger seat up front.

"This place had better be good," Tom said, looking at Aurora over his shoulder, "or you're fired."

"You don't have the power to do that," she muttered, but her lips turned up in amusement despite herself.