Page 315 of Wild Card 13

“Yes, Ms. Thomas.” She closed her eyes for one second.

I walked into the conference room before I ruined both of our lives.

The meeting itself should have helped.

There were spreadsheets involved. Roster projections. Development camp schedules. Off-season physical reports. Charity obligations. Front office calendars. Things that usually put a man safely back into the part of his brain reserved for being a professional.

Except Lucy was at the front of the room. Lucy, in a navy dress and emerald glasses, hair pinned back, tablet in hand, looking like the most competent person in Minnesota. She moved through the agenda with calm precision. She answered questions from staff. She corrected two dates without checking her notes. She shut down a scheduling conflict with the phrase, “That will not be possible,” in a tone that made an assistant GM thank her.

I had known Lucy was good at her job.

I had watched it for months.

But knowing someone in bed and then watching her own a room the next morning did something to a man.

Alois kicked my ankle under the table.

I looked over.

He did not look at me. He faced forward, massive arms crossed, expression blank.

I looked back at Lucy. Then immediately looked down at the packet in front of me like it contained nuclear codes.

Across the table, Oliver whispered, “You good?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re reading the sponsorship calendar upside down.”

I turned the packet around.

Zee snorted.

For eight whole minutes, I did not look at Lucy.

Then she said, “Buzz, can you confirm your availability for the youth clinic on the twelfth?”

My head snapped up. She was looking directly at me. Professional. Calm. Director of Player Operations. Except her cheeks went pink again the second our eyes met.

I forgot the question.

Alois’s head turned deliberately in my peripheral vision.

“Yes,” I said. I cleared my throat. “I mean, yes, Ms. Thomas. I’m available.”

“Thank you.” Her mouth pressed together. She looked down at her tablet.

I looked down at my now-correctly-oriented packet.

Oliver leaned toward me. “Why did that sound like you were being called to the principal’s office?”

“Because I respect administrative processes.”

Zee made a strangled noise into his coffee.

Alois said nothing.

After the meeting, I tried to escape with dignity, which lasted until Lucy caught my sleeve outside the conference room. One little tug at the cuff of my shirt that no one else would have noticed. “A word,” she said under her breath.