Page 20 of Ice Queen

I quickly walk over to Caroline, who’s standing in the corner with a clipboard in hand. “What do you need me to do? Got a mic or something?”

Her eyebrow pops as she gives me a once-over. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“A Selina Samuels original, one of a kind.” I stick my tongue out and blow a quick raspberry. “Come on, I’m running out of time before I have to go change for warm-ups. I need to get off the shit list. So, help me, help you. Yeah?”

With a quick roll of her eyes, she runs her finger down the list of booths we have in attendance. I’m almost positive Coach Sterling meant for me to be like the clown entertaining the crowd before the circus actually starts, but with my mom's help, I’ve turned his little PR stunt into something that looks good on muah.

Markus - 1. Douche Canoe - 0. Well, for tonight at least.

“You’re just here for the press, Samuels. Socialize and look pretty.” Right, because I’m just inventory with a dazzling smile tonight.

“You know, like normal, but with fewer women hanging off your arm.” Her lips roll together, eyebrows raising slightly before she shoves her clipboard into my chest, turns on her heel, and walks away.

I’ve bled for this team, broken bones protecting my teammates. And tonight, my job is to prove I’m not what the media is trying to make me out to be.

My problem is, I don’t know why I’ve all of a sudden become their favorite subject. Nothing has changed since I got into the league at eighteen. I’ve been the “party guy.” I go out, and I have a good time.

And sure, I lead the league in penalty minutes because I protect my teammates. They’re my family. It’s always been that way. But the past year, it’s like someone’s made it their personal mission to make me look like a complete ass. A tarnish on my team’s reputation. A risk not worth taking. A failure. And I can’t stand it.

My head falls back behind me, my chest expanding with the depth of my inhale. I’ll be the freaking romance night Santa Claus, and then they won't have any choice but to change their tune.

Taking a deep breath, I clap my hands together in front of me, trapping the clipboard against my chest, the sound effectively freezing everyone in place.

“Hear ye! Hear ye!” I yell into the common area of the arena.

“Welcome to Sports Romance Night. A night where all your deranged fantasies about pro athletes can come true. But only in the pages of the books written by the lovely authors set up around here. If you touch an actual player tonight, I am not to be held responsible for the bodily harm caused to you by their wives or girlfriends.”

My eyes scan the area. Regular game attendees won’t be here for another three hours, give or take. So the people here are the ones who bought tickets for both the event and the actual game. That doesn’t mean there isn’t a threat wrapped in a pretty bow in here, though.

“I, however, am free for pictures, to answer questions, or be your personal tour guide of this lovely event space.” Pushing my hand through my hair, I wink at a woman who’s standing to the side.

Looking down at the rules written on a bright yellow Post-it note stuck to the top sheet, in what can only be described as chicken scratch, I give the attendees the law of the land. “There is no violence, no mean girl behavior.” Running my eyes over the crowd once more, I wrap it up.

“If you make an author, vendor, or athlete, should they come out here, feel uncomfortable, you will be asked to leave. Yeah?”

“Yeah!” A little girl shouts as she bounces on the balls of her feet, her mom's hand clutched tightly in hers.

I point right at her. “You tell me what snack you want from the concession stand, and I’ll grab it for you.”

Turning the page on the clipboard, a frown covers my face when I see it’s a picture of freaking Sterling on the next page. They think this is a joke. They think I’m a joke. No one thought that before this asshole got here. My hand tightens against the plastic until it cracks. I can’t stand him, and I guess I owe Caroline a new clipboard.

“That’s all for now. If you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to ask,” I say cheerily, hoping to play it off like it’s just nerves and not anger coursing through me. My teeth clench as I turn toward the back hallway. But then I catch it, Coach Sterling standing in the corner with a frown on his face, and Mr. Collins at his side, eyeing me warily.

You’re on, Markus. Shooting them my most dazzling smile, I place the clipboard down on top of the hightop registration table, and pretend I wasn’t trying to escape. But before I can turn around, Coach's gaze drifts past me, slow, assessing, almost predatory, and lands on my friends.

Hannah’s telling Kaitlyn something, her hands flying everywhere like they do anytime she’s really into the story she’s telling. Scarlett is lightly bouncing Cam, Monroe’s arm wrapped around her hip. Greyson stands shoulder to shoulder with his brother, creating a protective wall for Hannah and Abby.

I don’t know who he’s looking at, but I don’t freaking like the way he's looking. I step away from the table, purposely putting myself in the middle of his line of sight, where I know his eyes are on me instead of them. I don’t need to know who he’s clocking, I just need to make sure it doesn’t continue.

Luckily, the little girl I owe a snack to walks by me. I smile at the mom and her daughter. “I owe you a snack. What can I get you?”

Her eyes widen comically as she looks up at me. “Whoa, you’re like a giant.”

A deep chuckle vibrates through my chest, movement catches my eye, and when I scan the area, I catch Kaitlyn looking in my direction. She quickly ducks her head, brushing her hair behind her ear, and tunes back in to whatever Hannah is saying.

“Something like that.” Smiling, I bring my attention back to her. “I have popcorn, hot dogs, I think there’s even chicken tenders back there somewhere.”

She brings her finger to her lips, tapping it a few times as she thinks. I hear the click of a camera go off nearby, but I don’t look away. “Do you have cotton candy?”