The Romance Line (Love and Hockey Book 2)

Everly

“You. Went. Off. Script.”

In the elevator one minute after I watched them record his interview, Max shrugs, giving me the most easygoing grin I’ve ever seen. I’m still in a state of complete and utter shock, but it’s the kind of shock that makes my bones hum and my heart sing.

“What were you thinking?” I ask as thrills race through me.

“I was thinking of you,” he says, like it was the simplest thing in the world that he did.

“Future wife?” I ask, because I still can’t believe he said that. I also can’t wipe the smile off my face.

“You will be,” he says, cupping my cheek. “I know your type. I’m your type.”

I’m barely able to process his bold, out-on-a-limb words, but they’re going to live rent-free in my head for the rest of my life .

Because…he’s probably not wrong.

But there isn’t much time to bask in the sheer audacity of his mic drop—not when I have a meeting to get to at the Sea Dogs arena. A meeting that will probably be helped by his statement. The fact that he said all of that has to give my boss some confidence that our romance isn’t a one-way street. That will matter. I’d never thought to ask for his backup. But I have it.

Max takes me back there quickly, parking in the players’ lot, then walking me to the stairwell, where I say, “Wish me luck.”

He shakes his head. “Nope, because you don’t need luck. You have facts.”Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Facts matter. And with the facts in my pocket, I head upstairs to the management level and walk down the hall with a plan.

When I first contemplated telling my boss about my relationship with the goalie, I figured I’d plead for her to let me keep my job.

Not anymore.

I’m not going into Zaire’s office to ask to stay.

I’m not going in there to beg for her permission either.

And I’m not going in there to lay my head on the desk and ask whether she’s going to drop the guillotine on me or not.

I am powerful, and I’m going in there from a place of power.

I march down the hall in my black pantsuit like an avenging goddess of business, ready to take on whatever comes her way.

But along the way, I spot the back of a preppy blond head. Well, this calls for a quick detour. I stride right toward Elias’s cubicle and knock on the half-wall. He looks up with a smug look on his face, like he thinks I’m about to cave to his demands.

I get the first word in. “I don’t care what you do with that photo.”

“W-w-hat?”

“Post it,” I spit out. “I don’t care.”

“But, but, but—” he sputters, clearly unable to form a single sentence.

I lean closer. “You don’t scare me. You’re a small man with a small, shriveled heart.”

I turn around and walk away from him.

As I’m leaving the cubicles, Jenna pops up from hers, clapping and cheering. “You go!”

I’m so glad I never truly doubted her.

As she cheers me on, she swivels to face Elias. “And you never volunteered for Meals on Wheels. I called the organization in your college town and looked it up. They don’t have a record of you.”

I grin at Jenna. “You are a tenacious, inquisitive, brilliant human,” I say and offer her a palm for high-fiving. She smacks back, and then I resume my march down the hall.

Because I am not walking into my boss’s office. I am marching in.

Along the way, I catalog my surroundings. The corridor is blue. The air is cool. The chance is mine.

When I reach her suite, Trevor waves me in. The door is halfway open and I push it the rest of the way.

Oh.

Clementine is here too, sitting on the couch next to Zaire. That throws me for a loop but only for a second. It’s even better that the general manager’s here. I can say my piece to both of them .

“I saw you on the schedule. Tell me what’s on your mind,” Zaire says.

“Yes, I’d love to know too. Sit,” Clementine says, then gestures to the chair across from the couch.

But I don’t want to sit. I shake my head. “I’m going to stand.” I don’t waste another second. “And I’m not here to try to keep my job. I’m here to tell you why you should keep me.”

Zaire squints. “What exactly are you talking about, Everly?”

Clementine shoots me a skeptical look. “Yes, I’d so love to know too.”

“You have an unwritten rule that says employees shouldn’t get involved with the athletes. You told me about it on the first day I started here. It’s a rule we’re all expected to follow because it could end badly for the employee. Because it could affect how they do their job. Because it could affect how people see them. But I’m here to tell you it’s a bad rule. And the fact that I’ve fallen in love with one of our hockey players hasn’t affected a single thing about my ability to do the job. And if you fire me for falling in love with a player, here’s what else you’ll lose.”

Shaking her head, Zaire holds up a hand. “Hold on. You’ve fallen in love with one of our players?”

“The pre-game show starts in about ten minutes on The Sports Network, and you’ll hear Max Lambert talking about it. But I want you to hear from me about what I’ve done so you can think about the value I bring to this organization.”

For a beat, both women look floored. No surprise there. But they’re not top executives for nothing. “I’d love to hear,” Clementine says in her cool British accent, sweeping out a hand .

“My personal life hasn’t hurt my ability to do the job at all. Since I’ve been here, I’ve helped develop segments with our broadcast partner that drive up ratings. I’ve spearheaded a project to pitch features on players across mediums, and we’ve seen a thirty percent increase in our coverage in the last year because of that. Our social media engagement has already increased since October, and is now up sixty-three percent over the last year, which has led to forty-seven percent more jersey sales. I’ve also planned events with our key partner organizations throughout the city,” I say, rattling off some of my major accomplishments. “I did all this while falling in love with Max and making him likeable again. He went from being a recluse to being a reliable player who regularly talks to the media and presents well.” I stop and take a fueling breath since there’s one more thing to say. “Also, other pro sports team owners recognize my talent and want to work with me. I’m not saying this to worry you that I’m leaving. I’m telling you that I’m valuable. I contribute every day to this PR team. And I will continue innovating.”

Zaire’s brow furrows right as she tilts her head, as if she’s adding up all the facts. “That is quite a speech, Everly.”

But I’m not done. “And since the interview’s about to air, I’m going to let you watch it. And I would love if you could let me know if you’re going to not just bend that rule for me but to get rid of it entirely for everyone.”

I thank them and leave.