The Slot: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance (4 page)

“What about the safety of our neighborhood?” one of the onlookers cried.

“Yeah, what about our businesses?” hollered another.

The questions fired at her like a machine gun repeating at sixty decibels for minutes until she finally put her pointer finger up to her lips.

“Move back, please. Thank you for your cooperation,” she said, knowing better than to try and answer questions.

Media rule numero uno.

When the majority of people began shuffling across the street, Eloise turned and walked back through the arena. She paused briefly to watch the players performing their drills, trying to pick out Fiorino. With embarrassment, she realized she didn’t even know his jersey number.

Note to self: study team roster before you get fired. Or die from humiliation in front of the hottest guy you’ve ever seen.

Kylie looked up from her desk as Eloise returned. “How’d it go?”

“Might have gone better,” she answered. “Kyles, have you ever regretted working here?”

Kylie brushed a wisp of pink bangs aside and stared at her. “Gosh, no. I love it here, don’t you? We work in the front office of the most talented and badass team in the NHL. Why would you ask that? Is everything okay?”

El shrugged her shoulders and tried to chuckle, but it ended up croaking out her throat like a pathetic whine. “I thought the most badass team in the NHL is the Chicago Blackhawks. Anyway, I spoke with Sheehan. The bar is coming along fine, but I’m worried. The locals have valid issues. When it’s completed, the main artery into the neighborhood will be blocked. Customers won’t be able to get to their local shops without a massive detour. Worse, they may stop at
Murphy’s Finest
and not go any further. It really will change the economy and culture of the area. I’m not sure I like Murphy’s plan, and I’m certain I
don’t
like him.”

Kylie put her hands over her ears as if it hurt to hear the information. “He’s a businessman, what do you expect?” She threw Eloise a curious look. “Why do you care about the neighborhood? If the bar is a success, it’ll mean more money in our paychecks. Don’t you want the Riot’s brand to be successful? That is your job, you know.”

Eloise sank into one of the cushy visitor chairs. “Because I met one of the players today. He’s worried about a coffee house down the block.”

“Who?”

“Cole Fiorino.”

“Wow, you talked to the heir apparent?” she asked, mouth agape. “He owns a coffee shop?”

“No.” El laughed. “His friend owns it. But, yes, I did talk to him. He seems nice and genuine, you know? Not what I expected.”

And I certainly didn’t expect him to inspire every cell in my body to fire on all cylinders.

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” Eloise admitted. “I guess, more of a stuck-up jock. An intolerable sense of entitlement coupled with zero sense of humor.” Her mind drifted back to rock-paper-scissors in the cool evening air. No. This one had a funny bone for certain.

“You mean like Ryder,” Kylie said.

El glared at her assistant. “He is
nothing
like Ryder.”

“How on earth would you know that?” A knowing smile crept across Kylie’s face. “Ah-hah. You
like
him. A hockey player. Just what you need. And a gorgeous one too. Did he make you squirm in your panties?”

Eloise stood and ignored the intimate question because it hit too close to home. “What I
need
is to find a way to make peace between the community and our owner’s interests.”

Kylie shrugged. “Why don’t you hold a – what do they call it – a Town Hall meeting? Get everyone to talk and clear the air?”

Eloise stared at her, a catlike grin curling her lips. “Miss Rose, you are more brilliant than your hair color. That’s exactly what I’ll do.”

She settled into her office and began composing an email to Sheehan, outlining the Town Hall proposal. As her fingers flew across the keyboard, she pondered Kylie’s question about why she cared so deeply about the implications to local businesses and had to admit that Cole’s relationship with his friend had influenced her. Add in Kylie’s unspoken hint that she might be attracted to the man, and her motivations became less clear-cut.

Stop already.

Eloise sighed and ran a hand through her long, chestnut waves. Was it possible to consider dating a player? The thought hadn’t crossed her mind before; too much money, too much ego, too little intelligence. But Cole Fiorino seemed different. A depth of character shone from those beautiful blue eyes that surprised her. And his physical attributes definitely weren’t unappealing. She interrupted her daydreaming by reminding herself who signed the paychecks and put the finishing touches on her proposal before hitting
send
.

Chapter Four

At seven the next morning, the corner newsstand had just opened for business. Eloise pulled up at the curb alongside and got out. As she’d hoped, a fresh stack of mini-doughnuts sat by the register. She purchased two packages, thinking back to her days as shift manager at the KwikTrip in Minneapolis. The job had supported her through college but left her with a lifelong addiction to the fluffy white rings. After a restless night, she felt in dire need of a sugar hit.

Visions of Cole Fiorino’s twinkling eyes and ripped body had haunted her dreams – the crazy kind of dream that woke you every hour yet somehow led you back to a different version of it each time you dozed off. Eloise found herself blushing as she recalled different bits of the dream. Her and Cole in a bubble bath, then getting it on in the executive washroom while Sheehan Murphy spied on them. Ugh! Cole finding her lost in the dark woods, ripping her shirt, pushing her up against a tree… that one made her heart palpitate even now.

She parked in the ramp and hurried to her office, though there was no need to at this early hour. But she had to admit, running toward the building helped calm her. As if the motion itself could chase away the haunting fantasies of someone she had no right to be so obsessed with after a couple of brief interludes.

She brewed herself a coffee and sat down to read
Inside Sports
while devouring her secret stash of treats. A few minutes before eight, Kylie arrived. She’d barely said good morning to her when Eloise’s desk phone shrilled.

“Eloise Rob–”

Sheehan’s voice cut her greeting short. “We don’t need a fucking Town Hall meeting.”

Eloise’s mouth hung open a second or two. If nothing else, her boss was certainly direct. “Excuse me, Mr. Murphy, but I think it’s important to understand the community’s point of view and for them to understand ours.”

“I don’t pay you to understand. I pay you to deal with the public and get them to shut their redneck, trailer park pie holes.”

Eloise’s temperature bypassed simmering to land at boiling. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to remain professional. “That’s true and I’ve been handling community relations for the organization for nearly five years. I know the best way to deal with the public, so please let me handle this.”

She could hear Murphy breathing heavily over the line. “Five years, huh. Well, young lady, if you want to be around for six, you’d better find a way to get those hayseeds off my job site today, not host a tea party for them. Do I make myself clear?”

Murphy hung up before Eloise could answer. Not that she had a choice – the boss was the boss whether she agreed with him or not. She looked at the half-eaten package of doughnuts on her desk, then tossed them into the wastebasket in disgust. The only other idea she had would involve a trip to the Sales & Marketing office down the hall, where more unpleasantness had hidden itself under a rock. In addition to powdered doughnuts, working at KwikTrip had given her another unhealthy legacy in the form of Kristoff Helios, the dreaded ex.

As a young, grad student, she was no match for a slick, head office exec like Kristoff when he’d flirted with her on his visits to the local stores. He’d totally swept her off her feet, but when they both vied for her current job with the Riot, Eloise had landed it instead of him.

The Riot had eventually hired Kristoff too, but as the Sales & Promotions Manager, which made him her subordinate. Resentment was a soft word to describe his attitude toward her, and a trip to his office was something she avoided whenever possible.

She forced herself out of her chair and through the reception area. “I’m heading over to sales,” she told Kylie as she exited to the hallway.

“Good luck,” Kylie murmured as she watched her leave, giving her a victory sign to boost her nerve.

Kristoff leaned against a desk, talking to one of the junior reps as Eloise marched into the sales bullpen. His expensive suit, good looks, and charming demeanor could win over almost any client and drop any naïve woman’s panties, but Eloise knew better. His Greek heritage had blessed him with olive skin and handsome features, but underneath he was slippery. Like an eel. He sensed her approach, and for a minute looked almost pleased to see her until he tamped it down and neutralized his expression.

“El, my dear. What brings you here?”

The junior rep had the good grace to look embarrassed and confused so he retreated to his desk to leave the two of them alone.

“I need some killer graphics done, ASAP,” she said, dispensing with any pleasantries and going straight into boss mode. “Can you get some signage produced for the construction site by tomorrow?”

Kristoff deployed his smooth, salesman smile. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

“Don’t play scratch-my-back, Kristoff. Just do your job, and let me do mine. I want to start a community campaign to show the locals we’re not out to destroy their livelihood… a partnership theme of some kind. Can you get your design team to draft something up?”

“Ah, yes, I heard the villagers are waving their flaming torches high.” He clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. “The job’s not all stars and spotlight, is it? Careful, if you don’t watch out, the fire might singe your gorgeous, silky hair. The perfect mane for a man to yank.”

Eloise ignored his inappropriate sarcasm. “So you’ll get on it today?”

“Sure,” he conceded with a cocky smirk. “Great idea, really. Throw the mongrels a bone. Make them think you’re their friend before you stab them in the back. You’re good at that.”

She stared him down, incredulous he could be so petty for so long. “Look, Kristoff. I’m not going there with you for the millionth time. Get over it.”

He held up one hand in a gesture of cease-fire. “I’m only making a suggestion. Barbara said she saw you outside talking with the locals yesterday and said that they seemed to respect you. A clever promotion on your part could make you the darling of the neighborhood. Then after you’ve accomplished your goal…” Kristoff paused and made a slow slashing motion across his throat.

“I would never do that, go back on my word,” Eloise said. “That’s more your style, Kristoff. I don’t need to stoop to your level to accomplish my goals.”

“Such a little hypocrite. You practically climbed over me to get this job.”

Eloise trembled with anger but would never let it show. Not to Kristoff. Not to anybody. “I earned my job through hard work, intelligence, and perseverance, and I do it well,” she said coldly. “I suggest you do yours to the best of your ability. If you have any. I’ll email my ideas to your creative team.”

***

Ryder stepped into the Riot’s training room and inhaled a big breath, taking in the smells of vinyl gym mats and sweat that pervaded the space. The whir of spanking-new high-tech workout machines sounded like music to his ears – the tune familiar yet distant. As part of the operations staff, he was allowed to use the equipment, but it wasn’t the same as being one of the players. He shook off the gnawing feelings of jealousy and grabbed a towel from the stack near the door.

He headed to the spin station for his warm up and spotted a friend there. “Hey, man, how’ve you been? Welcome to Rochester.”

Cole looked over as Ryder spoke, his forehead already dripping in sweat. He smiled and slowed his pedaling. “Hey, Ryder. I heard you were out here in Minnesota. Been great, how about you? Haven’t seen you since Junior All-Stars.”

“I know,” Ryder said, flipping his towel around his neck and mounting the spin cycle next to him. “Those days are long gone, my friend. And it sucks.”

“Not necessarily. You traded in the pads and blades for a suit, huh? Good call – much safer and a lot more job security. Look at what just happened to me. Uprooted again.”

Ryder detected a hint of patronism in Cole’s comments but shrugged it off. Things were as they were and time didn’t run backwards. He laughed appropriately as he set the tension and began to pedal. “Yeah, I’ve been with the Riot for a couple years now.”

Cole resumed his pace. “Nice. You married or what?”

“Shit, no. Who needs that hassle? More pussy around here than at an ASPCA, all looking to come in from the cold and get warm,” Ryder snickered.

Cole mopped his forehead with the edge of his towel and pedaled faster. “Well, it does get cold around here,” he agreed. “Nothing like a little fur to keep you warm.”

“Even fur doesn’t melt ice,” Ryder said, a frown creasing his brow.

Cole gave him a sidelong glance and slowed down from his sprint. “Sounds like you’ve got someone on your mind,” he said between heavy breaths. “Say, do you know that Eloise chick? Works in corporate? Poised and charming, curvy in all the right places.”

Ryder flinched inwardly but kept pedaling.
Christ, what fucking timing.
“El Robertson?” he asked nonchalantly. “Yeah. See her every day. What about her?”

“She seems nice,” Cole said.

Ryder scoffed, not really wanting to discuss Eloise now that Cole had expressed interest. Ryder could see right through the seemingly innocent question. In a few words, the centerman had already painted Eloise with a giant bullseye that said
next to fuck
.

“Appearances can be deceiving. Haven’t they sent you the catalog yet?” he asked, changing the subject. Ryder had an axe to grind with Eloise, and he wanted Cole to move on to someone else before he fucked up Ryder’s plan.

“What?” Cole’s head snapped toward Ryder, droplets of perspiration flicking off the end of his nose. He looked confused.

“You know… the line-up,” Ryder said, amping up the tension on his cycle. “The list of trophy-wife contestants. Kinda like a pageant. Take your pick any time during the swimsuit competition.”

Cole laughed aloud. “Ryder, you’re so fulla shit it’s no wonder your eyes are brown. I get it, I’ve seen the show; the stereotypical hockey wife. Big hair and an even bigger spending habit. Not interested.”

“You? Not interested in hot pussy? Since when?”

“Didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” Cole said, going into hill-mode on his cycle, his powerful thighs pumping into standing position. “But none of those bimbo-brains appeal to me. I’m not saying I’m the marrying type, but I’d want a woman with a head on her shoulders, not just a football field between the legs, thanks. And some career interests.”

“Reality check, dude. Career women aren’t going to follow you around the continent with your game schedule tattooed to their ass.”

Cole pedaled hard, inhaling and exhaling with a fervor that bordered on hostility. “All I’m saying is that there’s more than one kind of woman. And you of all people should know it since you turned corporate.”

“Sure there are,” Ryder conceded, pushing hard on his pedals, feeling the sweat begin to trickle down his neck and between his shoulder blades. Not all of it from exercise. “That’s why they send you the catalog – blondes, brunettes, redheads. All of them pre-tested, pre-approved and pre-screened for fitness, fertility, flexibility, and fuckworthiness. The four Fs.”

Cole exhaled and settled back onto the saddle, dialing down to rest phase. “I don’t need a fucking catalog,” he said, annoyance in his voice. “I’d like to get to know Eloise a little better. She’s a career woman,
and
hot as hell. We had an interlude outside the other day. She yanked my chain. Some ladies can be both, you know.”

“Forget it, man. El’s an ice arena chiller unit on black platform stilettos. Stay away from her unless you want frostbite on your dick.” Cole threw him a look as cold as the statement he’d just made. Ryder smiled to himself.
Not too keen on sloppy seconds are you, Fiorino
. Even though he hadn’t actually made it with Tastee-Freez Eloise, he didn’t mind his friend and former rival thinking he’d already licked that Popsicle.