“It’s why I didn’t want you to tell anyone.” I arrange a slice of peanut butter pie on a plate, while Gabriella starts on Lauren’s latte. “What if I back out? What if this whole thing explodes in our faces?”
“Scarlett.” She stops frothing milk to face me. “There isnobacking out. Why would youwantto? They have a room for you at the Marco estate. That’s like getting invited to hang out at some Netflix reality-show mansion. Even these girls are jealous.” She nods toward the WAGs’ table.
“There’s nothing to be jealous of. I’m just going to a wedding in a nice venue with the assistant coach.” The words are barely out of my mouth when I freeze like someone just dumped ice water over my head. “Wait. I’M DATING THE ASSISTANT COACH? That means I’m one ofthem.”
Never in my wildest dreams—and I’ve had some pretty creative ones involving Chris Evans and an elevator meet-cute—did I think I’d join the WAGs club.
“You just figured that out?” Gabriella stares at me like I’ve been living under a rock.
“I’ve never been part of his professional world, okay?” I grab the tray of desserts and head toward their table. “I’m the girl who knows everyone but never belonged anywhere.” Especially not in the Marcos’ world, where everything is polished, and I’d probablyruin the aesthetic just by showing up in my hoodie and ripped jeans.
But the thing is, they don’t know I’m a fraud. Or that this whole arrangement is really just an opportunity to get the vendor contract.
“Hey, Scarlett!” Jaz greets me with a smile. “I heard you’re dating Coach Marco? Very impressive. Especially since that man hasn’t asked out anyone inyears.”
“Well, it’s not that serious yet,” I say nervously, reaching for the strawberry pie. “And I don’t really think of him as a coach. He’s justBrendanto me.”
The girls exchange knowing looks, probably thinking I’m being modest. But really, he’ll always be the boy who hung out during summers on the beach and then disappeared into the Marines.
Jaz takes the pie from me while bouncing baby Rosie on her lap. “Coach Marco’s whipping our boys into shape, the Marine Corps way.”
Jaz works as the community engagement coordinator for the Crushers and is also married to Brax MacPherson, center for the Crushers.
I set a caramel latte in front of Lauren next, the PR manager for the Crushers who’s dating defenseman Tate Foster, aka Sheriff. She lives in the apartment above the cafe, a cozy place I’ve always loved, but she’s moving out at the end of the season for somewhere with a backyard for her dog.
If I could ever actually afford it, I’d move in tomorrow—anything to get out of the duplex I share with Eli, where we pass each other like strangers most days.
“You know Tate,” Lauren says. “He loves how strict and regimented Brendan is with the team. He told me Brendan would make a great head coach when Coach Jenkins retires.”
“As if my dad would ever retire,” Victoria says, picking up her fork. She’s a former ice-skater, and just married Leo “the Ego” Anderson, left wing for the Crushers. Leo and Victoriadated in college but only reconnected when Leo had been assigned as her ice-skating partner for his community service punishment.
“Doesn’t Assistant Coach Jakowski want the head coach position?” Lauren asks, taking a sip of her latte.
Victoria nods. “That’s why he’s ticked Brendan got the other coaching position. He thinks the only reason Brendan was hired is because of nepotism.”
“That’s not true,” I interrupt, suddenly protective of Brendan. “He earned that position.” Then I add under my breath, “Not that I’ve ever seen him in action.”
“Wait.” Lauren nearly chokes on her latte. “You haven’t seen your own boyfriend coach?”
All eyes shift toward me, making my stomach bottom out. “I work a lot of hours,” I defend weakly. “By the time I close, games are over.”
They’re all staring at me like I just confessed to never watchingStar Wars.
“That’s it,” Victoria announces. “We’re fixing this. Gabriella!”
My best friend bounces over like she’s been waiting for this moment. “What’s up?”
“Scarlett needs to see Brendan coach,” Jaz explains. “Can you find someone to cover so she can go to a game?”
“Obviously,” Gabriella says, looking way too pleased with herself. “I’ve been telling her she needs help anyway. No more hiring high school kids who think showing up is optional.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms. “If you find reliable help, I’ll go.”
“Consider it done,” Gabriella says, practically rubbing her hands together.
Lauren pulls out her phone, fingers flying across the screen. “Let me check the schedule and—” She stops, staring at her screen like something’s very wrong. “Um, Scarlett? You might want to see this.”
“What?” I lean over to look at her phone, and my heart stops.