Chapter Two
Sydney
After calling David and talking him into extending my deadline—because let’s be honest, twenty-four hours was not doable, not to talk a guy into a show he was apparently against—I packed an overnight bag and headed to Grand Junction Regional, a good hour and a half away. The only flight leaving for San Diego was at five in the evening, with a quick layover in Phoenix. After all was said and done, I arrived in San Diego at almost eight thirty. According to my calculations, that still gave me about an hour to head from the airport to the arena. Not knowing traffic, yet assuming the worst, I really hoped that was enough time.
I left my terminal and headed towards the rental car area. Seeing the line snaking back and forth, I had to fight back a groan. I moved to the back of the line and propped my wheeled bag up before digging in the front pocket to find my leather folio. In it, I had my printed confirmation codes, maps, a description of the show, random notes on the man, and any and every selling point I could possibly give Noah Caleb Prescott, award winning forward of the San Diego Enforcers. I had to convince him to sign on.
After what little I found, I wasn’t entirely convinced I would be able to pull this off.
The second child of Noah and Ryleigh Prescott, he was the first to be professionally drafted in the family. Not for lack of trying on his oldest sister’s part, though. She was one of the largest supporters of a professional women’s hockey team in the Midwest, and I almost found more information on her than I did Caleb.
Caleb was a six foot five power forward, a player known for his speed and quick moves. He wasn’t one to get into many scuffles, but he wasn’t afraid to pull a punch if it was necessary. Most of the journalists and forum posters had nothing but good things to say about him.
To be honest, I couldn’t find a single negative remark on the man.
That was on the ice.
Off the ice wasn’t much different.
He gave back to his community at home. He participated in most of the teams’ appearances at local hospitals. He was endorsed by a few brands, but from what little I could find, his name was simply attached to the companies. There weren’t print or video ads, and the few interviews I found weren’t extremely lengthy.
I did find a few paparazzi shots of him with models and actresses, but never with the same one more than once. And never so many pictures with different women in a span of time that would paint him as a typical athletic player. The one event he seemed to go to annually was the NHL Awards in Vegas, which I can’t say I was aware was a thing. He went right before his rookie season and again last June. Like most of the attendees, he was freaking gorgeous in whatever big named suit he’d wear. Most of those pictures though, he was either by himself or with a blond male that the captions labeled as his brother, Jonny.
So what I knew was the man didn’t like to be in the public eye, yet the public still loved him.
And I was supposed to convince him to say yes to a very public reality show?
I needed all the luck in the world with that one.
I triple checked my car rental paperwork before placing the folio on top of my bag. I tugged down on my brown dress pants before smoothing my hands down my thighs. My hands went to the small of my back to check the tuck of the light green, long-sleeved blouse I chose for the meeting, making sure it was tucked and tight, not billowing. I guessed I kind of resembled a tree, the brown and green thing going on, but the light green worked well with my complexion and hair.
I leaned to the side a little to try and catch a glimpse of the people ahead of me. When it looked like there would be no moving for a moment yet, I toed off one of my three-inch heeled sandals to flex and rotate my foot. Oh, that felt divine…
At five-two, every inch counted. If my body was able to handle the pain of five-plus inch heels for long periods of time, I’d wear those in a heartbeat. As it was, my baby three-inch ones killed.
I slipped the heel back on when I saw the line start to shuffle forward. Grabbing the handle of my bag, I moved with the masses, stopping yet again a few feet later. As a fan of the messy top-knot, I had tried really hard to keep my hair down for this meeting but that was so not happening anymore. The temperature difference between Utah and California was pretty significant, even at this later hour.
I leaned down to unzip the front of my bag again to find a hair tie. I opted against my go-to style for a clean, if slightly loose, ponytail in the middle of my head, part over my left eye still intact. I brushed my long side-swept bangs into place before glancing at my watch.
I was such a fidgeter. Patience was something I’d never had a whole lot of.
It was nearing nine. A full thirty minutes had passed already? That was no good.
I was that person who would have everything done yesterday if I could. I hated being late; I liked being punctual, on time, and therefore no less than fifteen minutes early.
According to the map I looked at earlier, it was ten minutes from the airport to the arena, but that was on a good day.
Again, I bent forward to the front zipper to rift around, pulling out my iPhone this time. I opened up a web browser and plugged in NHL.com to figure out where I stood in regards to the timing of the game. From what I pulled up earlier, it appeared most games ended at about nine-thirty or so. I figured that to get to the arena on time based off those numbers and the traveling times, I’d have to leave the airport in fifteen minutes to get there on time, Sydney style, or within thirty minutes at the absolute latest.
Honestly, though, the thought of getting there right on time almost gave me hives.
iPhone in hand, I crossed my arms and tapped my toes. Could this line move any slower?
As if my thoughts willed it to happen, the line moved. Two more lanes opened and two others cleared, allowing the line to move a bit more quickly.
Positive thoughts, Sydney…Positive thoughts.
***
I was late.
This did not sit well with me. Those hives I was thinking about before? I certainly felt a twitch behind my eye and was fighting back the urge to scratch at my arms. Granted, it sounded like the game was still going, if the cheers and loud music were any indication.
This late thing didn’t sit well with me, but what was I going to do, especially with the game apparently still going? Go down to the ice and talk to him?
Ok, deep breath; maybe I really wasn’t all that late.
Thanks to David, I had been able to drive the rental right up to the side of the arena, where security would watch it. No parking tickets here, no siree.
I stumbled briefly in my jog-walk from the front doors of the arena to a set of doors separating the lobby and the actual seating and bowl.
Running in heels wasn’t really my forte. I left my bag in the car, but carried my leather folio with me. When I was stopped for not having a ticket, all I had to do, according to David, was give my name. Upon doing so, the ticket usher spoke into his walkie-talkie and I was given clearance. An usher walked me around the side to a private elevator, making me feel all sorts of special.
He sent me down to the lower level, where I was met by a security guard. This one was female, but she looked a bit scary to me, so I just smiled and let her take me to where I had to go.
The woman stopped with me in a long hall as echoes from the announcer ricocheted the halls, expressing the organization’s thanks for coming out and that the kids in attendance were welcome to stick around for a post skate.
Well… I guess the game was done now.
A few feet ahead of me was a lit opening to the right, the tunnel maybe, and directly across from that was a set of closed, double doors. As we neared the tunnel and doors, I could hear talking and music from beyond said doors. Extremely loud music.
I let out a quick breath through pursed lips before smiling over at the security lady. “Thank you.”
She nodded and turned to stand a bit further down the hall, near the elevator but still watching me.
Don’t worry, I wanted to say, I won’t barge into the locker room.
While I had grown up with three older brothers, barging into a locker room full of men of all ages wasn’t really my thing.
Not knowing what else to do, I stood next to the wall across from the closed doors and crossed my arms over my chest. I supposed I would wait; it wasn’t like I had any other choice, right?
Patience, Sydney. Patience, I repeated, over and over in my head, trying hard to refrain from tapping my foot. Granted, I wasn’t too sure I could stay upright if I attempted to tap my heeled toe, so instead I shifted my weight to the other leg, wincing slightly as the pressure was released from the previous.
No sooner than the wince left my face, the double doors opened wide and men in work-out clothing, team sweats, and a few in business attire, started to pile out. Ok, maybe ‘pile out’ wasn’t entirely accurate, but they weren’t exactly coming out single-file, either.
Two terrifyingly tall men walked out, wearing identical brown wind-pant bottoms. One wore a white tee with the Enforcers’ logo taking up the entire front of the shirt. The logo was either printed vintage-style, or the shirt had seen many trips to the laundry.
The other wore a light brown long-sleeved tee with Enforcers written over the right chest area. Both had wet hair and brought with them a fresh male scent; however, the smell that wafted after them was pungent, smelling of stale sweat and old gym clothes.
I tried really hard to not turn my nose up.
The man in the long-sleeved shirt quickly glanced in my direction, causing me to straighten to my full, even if short, height. He nodded upwards once at his teammate before saying in a deep voice, “See you on the ice.” The other said something in return in a heavy European accent, perhaps in agreement. Man-in-long-sleeved-shirt walked over toward me; the nearer he came, the larger his tower of height became.
Taking a breath, I reminded myself that at five-two, most men towered over me. Then again, most men didn’t come at me with the additional inches skates gave.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Um, yeah. I mean, yes, please,” I stuttered, nervously glancing down to my leather folio. One of the things I needed to work on was my presence, and stuttering and using half-words like ‘yeah’ was not acceptable. I opened my folio and pretended to sift through papers when honestly, I had no clue exactly why I was here. What if Caleb didn’t agree to meet with me? What if he was only agreeing over the phone to get me to hang up?
I couldn’t look this man in the eye. He was…scary looking, with a yellowing black eye and a missing front tooth.
He pulled up the sleeves of his shirt as he waited for an answer.
“I’m looking for Caleb Prescott?” I asked, finally gathering the courage to look up at the man, painting a look of confidence on my face. “I’m Sydney Meadows; he’s expecting me.”
“Oh, yeah. He mentioned something about something,” he said with a nod. His hard face softened just slightly, no longer as intimidating without the stare in his eyes. “I’m Winski. Trevor.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll get him for you. He’s debriefing.”
“Ok, thank you.”
I watched as Trevor turned away and went back toward the double doors, but rather than going through them, he simply put a hand on the door jam and leaned in. “Yo, Prescott! You got a visitor.” He turned back around and crossed the pathway to enter the tunnel, grinning and nodding once toward me.
Well then. If yelling was all it took…
I took a deep breath to compose myself before running my hands down my shirt to straighten it again, as well as triple check the tuck. I was about to pull my hair tie out before thinking better of it; it would likely be a crazy mess with an annoying crease where the hair band had been. To still my shaking hands, I crossed my arms over the folio and pulled it to my chest.
The next man to walk out of the double doors was a tall blond, his hair too long and too curly for most guys – but managed to work on him. The nearly white curls were extremely tight for blond hair, and they fell past his ears and were nearing his shoulders. Unlike the previous two men, he still wore his hockey pants and socks but walked out shoeless. He also was without a team tee, and instead wore a Reebok form-fitting shirt. When he walked closer, seeming intent on coming to me, I was afraid that maybe I had looked up the wrong guy on the internet.
No.
No, no. This was Jonny Prescott.
“You wanted me…?” he asked, a crooked grin on his youthful face, no doubt due to the double meaning he threw out. He looked like a baby still, maybe newly-early twenties.
I was grateful that he wasn’t in skates; I didn’t have to look up too much further to speak to him.
“I was looking for Caleb? He was expecting me. I’m Sydney Meadows.”
“Oh,” he said, drawing the single syllable out with a slow nod. “I’m Jonny. Wrong Prescott at your service.” He extended his hand for me to shake.
I looked at his proffered hand before sliding my much smaller one into it. “Sydney.”
“You said.”
With a quick nod, I drew my lips into a tight smile before taking my hand back.
“Jonny Prescott…” he said, with a slight lift to one of his blond brows.
I simply nodded. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say.
When I didn’t respond, he looked me over so quickly I thought I imagined it. Then, with a grin he no doubted practiced on women of all ages, he said, “You’re that sexy voice from this morning.”
I felt my face blanch before going hot. I brought one of my hands to the back of my neck and squeezed gently in embarrassment. “Yes, I did call this morning. I’m sorry for the timing.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it. Look,” he said, stepping back with one foot, “I’ll just tell Cael to hurry his ass up. There’s a post-skate tonight so he should be out of Coach’s office soon, anyway.”
I couldn’t find words to say through my embarrassment so I just nodded and watched as he walked back toward the locker room. Unlike Trevor before him, he didn’t yell for Caleb. I wasn’t exactly sure how Jonny summoned him, but it was obviously a different tactic than the first time.
It wasn’t too much longer before Jonny came back out, having ditched his hockey bottoms for the same wind pants his teammates before him had worn, as well as a clean tee. Walking beside him in a nearly identical get-up, the only difference being the type of skates, was Caleb.
He looked even better in person.
Jonny and Caleb may have been opposites in looks, but oddly enough I could tell they were brothers. Where Jonny had curly blond hair, Caleb’s was brown and straight; maybe, if he grew it out longer than the half or so inch it was, it would have a slight wave to it if the quick flip by his ears was any indication. They had different jaw lines, too, and Caleb appeared to be slightly taller, but beyond that…
Shee-oot.
Fuck a duck. Peace out, girl scout, this wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. The longer I looked at Caleb in person, the more intimidated I became by him. The elder Prescott brother was hands-down gorgeous. Paired with the sleep-thickened voice I heard this morning, I could feel my lady bits tighten and my heart rate accelerate from something other than business nerves.
Caleb grinned crookedly and shook his head at a crack Jonny made before putting a hand to the side of his younger brother’s face, pushing him away. Jonny held up his hands, laughing lightly, then nodded to him as they separated–Jonny for the ice and Caleb for…
Me.
With a quick breath out, I straightened as best I could, throwing my shoulders back and putting a grin on my face. I offered my hand yet again tonight. “Caleb? I’m Sydney.”
***
Caleb
“You could probably tuck her in your pocket. How that voice on the phone came from that pixie of a girl… Damn, Cael, you better tap that, show be damned.”
I shook my head with a grin before scratching my jawline with my middle finger in a subtle jab. We turned the corner from the locker room to head out when Jonny added, “If I wasn’t in a committed relationship with Jenna…” His pause was more tell-tale than I think he realized. “I’d look twice.”
The name ‘Jenna’ was like nails on a chalkboard, so I just shook my head again at my brother. That girl sunk her nails into Jonny when he was drafted for the National Junior team and hasn’t let up. The entire family could see what Jonny simply couldn’t—she didn’t want him for him.
“I mean, never mind the fact the girl is hot, this idea she’s pulling you in for? Dating twenty chicks for a month? Damn, son…”
Jonny could talk…
Which was funny, because of my two brothers and me, Jonny definitely was the more ‘tenderhearted old soul’, as our mom often said. He wasn’t generally one to run his mouth, but lately all he did was talk chicks and tits and pussy; I had a feeling Jenna was going to be out the door sooner than later.
God, I hoped so.
I glanced up just as I pushed Jonny away from me, hand to cheek, and saw a well-dressed redhead standing a few feet off. Jonny peeled off to the ice, not before smacking me in the back, and I neared the woman who had to be Sydney.
“Caleb? I’m Sydney,” she said as she offered her hand.
“Yeah, Jon Jon said.” I wanted to be skeptical of this chick, but I had manners. I took her much smaller hand in mine and squeezed gently once, rather than shake it. Goddamn, she really was a pixie.
She was even shorter than my sisters and they were easily five-four. Myke, my oldest sister, was maybe five-six. Still, this Sydney stood damn near a foot and half lower than me; sure, yeah, I was wearing skates, but on a quick look down, I saw she was wearing heels. Barefoot, the difference wouldn’t be much different than now.
I took my hand back and crossed my arms over my chest. I watched as her pretty amber eyes flashed down to my chest then back up to my eyes. Well, I was pretty sure she was actually looking at my nose.
I reached up and ran a hand over my jaw shadow before scrubbing over my goatee, continuing a quick appraisal of the tiny redhead in front of me. I was pretty sure green and brown shouldn’t go together as a rule, but the colors worked well with her skin tone. Her blouse was unbuttoned just enough to show what minimal cleavage she had.
Yes, I looked at her chest. I was an ass and tits guy. Didn’t know many guys who weren’t.
Her neck was unadorned and with quick realization, I saw that the only jewelry she wore was in her ears. Even there, though, she wore simple, tiny diamond studs. Two in each ear.
Further down, I got at least half of what I liked to see. She didn’t have huge hips, but her ass…
I almost was expecting her backend to be as flat as her top but nope. She had a nice ass in those tailored pants of hers.
Afraid I was lingering too long to be considered acceptable, I moved my eyes back up to her face, where I now noted more than her eyes. The lighting wasn’t the greatest down here, but I thought I saw a light splash of freckles over her nose.
It made her a little sweeter.
As pretty as she was, I had to put a stop to this reality TV nonsense.
“Look. I know I said I’d meet with you, but can we make it quick? We have a post-skate with some kids and I really need to get out there.”
“Ok, yeah. I mean, yes, of course,” Sydney said with a nod.
As she and I stood near each other in the cinder block hall, Sydney went over the show with me, much as she had that morning, adding a few more details. She explained that the show would be filmed during a 30-day Hawaiian cruise, with excursions being used as individual and group dates. It was like Love Boat meets The Bachelor.
Film crews would start filming me in my natural element, being here in San Diego, as soon as the end of the week if I agreed. Then, at the end of the season, the true filming of the show would begin.
As she was about to rush into explain when I would board the cruise-liner, as if I had agreed to it, I held up my hand. “Miss Meadows.” God that sounded too formal for a woman like her. “Sydney,” I tried again, definitely preferring the taste of it on my tongue. “How about we meet over coffee or something tomorrow? Ten?”
Her eyes widened slightly, just briefly, before she nodded with a fixed smile in place. “Of course. Yes, that will give you more time to let it sink in. So long as you agree to—”
I cut her off with a grin. While yes, this show was against everything I had ever thought for myself, I had a feeling that sitting with Sydney and talking to her about the show, as if I were agreeing to it, would be the only time I’d see this gorgeous redhead again. I didn’t quite know what was drawing me to this short pixie of a woman, but I definitely wanted to see her again. Tomorrow I’d have no time constraints and she could talk all she wanted.
But before I realized the words were out of my mouth though, I said, “I’ll do it,” agreeing to her pitch.
Shit. Fuck.
The smile filling her face wasn’t one I was about to take away, and her amber eyes danced, lightening just slightly to bring out fiery red specks. “We can discuss contestants tomorrow then. Wonderful. Oh, great!”
I had to swallow a chuckle at her obvious excitement. We agreed on a place to meet and I watched her leave out of the corner of my eye while heading toward the ice.
Like I said, I liked her ass.
***
“So,” Sydney said, sitting across from me the next morning at one of the many non-chain coffee houses near Jonny and my condo. Today she was wearing a flowy black skirt with a white fitted tee that hugged her slight chest, and one of those chunky belts. The belt was that orangey cognac brown—the only brown, my sisters had informed me once, that could be paired with black. Her red hair was down around her shoulders today, showing off blonds and browns in the wavy, long tresses. If I thought she was pretty yesterday…
Damn, I wasn’t prepared for today.
Unlike most women I met, she appeared to wear minimal makeup, something I couldn’t fully tell in the dim light last night. Her complexion was that peaches and creamlike color people typically attributed to redheads, but only her nose and cheekbones were dusted with light freckles. I could see a few others along her collar bone sprinkling near her covered shoulders, too.
While she was dressed to the nines, I had shown up in a comfortable choice of jeans that I’d had for probably the better part of three years, and a hooded sweatshirt, sleeves pushed up to my elbows.
“My job is to find you your potential…dates, girlfriend, wife, whatever it is you’re trying to get out of this show,” Sydney continued. “Rather than going about this in a completely random fashion, I thought I’d start off by hearing your preferences.”
“My preferences?” I slid back to slouch a bit in my hair, reaching both hands out to wrap around my coffee cup.
“Yes. Height, build, hair, et cetera, et cetera,” she answered, picking up her legal pad only to put it back down, slightly angled this time. She slid her pen off the top of the pad and flipped it once in her left hand before clicking the end, extracting the tip.
So she was a lefty. Different.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she prompted.
I sighed heavily, a grin tugging my lips. “My preferences…” I reiterated before truly beginning. I kept my gaze on Sydney while spewing off my ideal woman—or what had been my ideal before a short, sexy redhead walked into my life the day prior because at this moment, I’d do anything for a date with her.
“Tall. Nothing more than a foot difference. Did that once.” Though, truth be told, in some ways it made sex more exciting. It was easier to work against a wall or in a shower with a shorter chick.
I watched for any change of expression on her face, but she wrote what I said with nilch, nada, nothing showing. Ok, then, I thought.
“Never really had a thing for redheads,” I said, forcing a fake grimace of apology but she never looked. Again, no reaction.
And now for the big guns. I supposed it wasn’t a nice spot to play, on account of some women being self-conscious about it, but, “Definitely have to have more than a handful to work with.”
This time she did look up, a quizzical look on her face. “A handful?”
“You know...” My voice trailed off as I raised my hands slightly out in front of my chest. I threw in a hand squeeze with both balls of air.
Sydney’s eyes flicked from my hands down to her own chest, then back to her legal pad so quickly I thought it may not have happened.
But there it was, that pink in her cheeks.
Got her.
It almost killed me to not grin in victory.
“You seem to have rather large hands, Mr. Prescott,” she muttered, “but I’ll try my best.”
This time, I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, but she didn’t seem to notice or mind. Yet again, she was in business mode.
“Kids? I understand you’re only in your mid-twenties and at the height of your career, but some women will definitely have that on their radar.” She glanced up at me, waiting for my answer.
Honestly, I hadn’t really thought of them. With hockey season taking up damn-near three-quarters of the year, and the rest being filled with camps and giving back and not a lot of downtime, I hadn’t given a lot of thought to any sort of settling down, which is partly why this show idea was such a joke.
I told her as much.
Well, the schedule part. Not the joke one.
She nodded and wrote on her pad before tapping the backend of her pen twice against her chin, then gave me a small smile. “Do you have any questions?”
“What is your role in all of,” I waved my hand near her notepad, pausing a moment before finishing, “this?”
She put her pen down only to reach for her coffee cup, taking a sip and returning the cup to the table. She then sat up a little straighter and tucked her hands down…under her ass? I wasn’t about to lean and look, but I definitely thought she was sitting on her hands. “I just completed my senior year of marketing. I officially graduate in a couple of weeks. I did a summer internship with a wedding planner out of Salt Lake City—“
I interrupted her. “Utah?”
She raised an auburn brow. “Do you know of another?”
I couldn’t stop my grin at her spunk. “Continue. Sorry.”
“As I was saying, I did a summer internship with a wedding planner, and then a classmate was talking about an internship he was doing with Sorenson. I’ve always been interested in the behind-the-scenes stuff with television and movies, so I figured I’d give it a shot, too. I don’t need the internship, having completed the one in summer, but I wanted the experience. So I’m like an intern-slash-casting assistant for my boss, David, who really is a casting assistant. The director of the show gave David the spiel and he gave me your name. My other assignments have been typical assistant duties like scoping out places. I guess with movies and scripted things, the assistant helps with readings but,” she shrugged a shoulder. “So here I am. Trying to pitch a show to you.”
“Well, you pitched the show to me. Pretty sure I agreed to it too.” I grinned over at her.
“Anything for a bunch of ladies, right?” Her smile widened. “I have brothers, I know how you boys work.”
Not so sure about the ‘anything for a bunch of ladies’ crack, as it was truly all about the one sitting in front of me, but I’d leave that alone. It looked like we were done talking about the show, but I wasn’t ready to leave yet. “Brothers? How many?”
“Three. I’m the youngest of four. Smith is twenty-eight, Sean twenty-seven and Sawyer is twenty-four.”
“And you are… Twenty…?”
“Two.”
I nodded. “I’m twenty-four, but you knew that. I have an older sister and four younger siblings.”
After an almost awkward silence where I didn’t expand and she didn’t ask, Sydney smiled again and picked up her pen. “Well, I’ll let you go. The paperwork will be sent to your agent and filming crews will likely be with you starting the end of the week. They’ll do shots like playing, practice, hanging out at home. Couple monologues. I’ll work on your cast, and I believe the cruise is set to start mid-June…” She pursed her lips as she flipped through the end of her notepad. “Or beginning of July, rather. I think they wanted to give you enough time to rest in the event you went to the championship game.”
I had to hold back a chuckle at the phrase. “You don’t know hockey, do you?”
Her eyes widened slightly before her cheeks flushed to a pretty pink. “No, not really, but that’s neither here nor there. The temporary itinerary will be emailed to you upon your signing the agreement, but you and the filming crew will board one week prior to the women. At that point, the thirty-day Hawaiian cruise will begin. The last week, your family is invited to join.
“The end game of the show isn’t necessarily a proposal, but the idea is more than just ‘a date with Caleb Prescott’. It’s more like the idea you’ll meet someone you wouldn’t get to meet otherwise. The running title of the show is Beauty. I think they need to work on it, personally but—“
“Do you know what a beauty is?” With her ‘championship game’ lingo, I was willing to bet the hockey slang went over her head too.
She spoke slowly, unsurely, her eyes going from left to right before settling on mine. “A beautiful girl?”
I shook my head, my grin tight but I could feel that shit in my cheeks. “No. A beauty is a player who’s good with his hands, loves the game, gives back to the team… The guy the team loves. But also the guy on the team who’s…” I tried to think of a decent way to word it, “good with the ladies.”
She smirked a little and nodded a few times. “Makes more sense now. I get it.” She shook her head in amusement. “You hockey players.”
As she started to put her pad and pen back in her folio, I asked the question that had been lingering in my mind since the night prior. “Are you going to be there?”
“Where, the show?” I nodded. “Oh, no. I imagine this will be the last time we see each other.” Sydney smiled again. Damn, I could probably drown on the pull of her lips on her face. “Unless of course, you made a side trip to Utah someday. I could return the coffee gesture.”
“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” I smiled to hide my disappointment before standing. “It was nice to meet you, Sydney Meadows.” I extended my hand. “Even if you talked me into something I didn’t really want to do.”
She stood too, and took my hand in hers. “Let’s be honest, you changed your mind pretty quickly.”
“Pretty persuaders can do that,” I said, knowing that it came off as a line but meaning the words. “Can I walk you to your car?” She’d gotten here before I did and I had to park what felt like a mile away.
Sydney just tilted her head down, motioning out the windows. “I’m just right there. But you can walk me out, I guess.”
So I did.
And on my way to my own car, I tried to figure out a way to see her again.