I’m still in shock when I get back to my apartment later that day.
I stood around in the parking lot of the building with the rest of the evacuees for nearly half an hour, waiting for the mystery man I met in the elevator to show up, but I never saw him. He must’ve gotten lost in the crowd. There were so many people milling around, and it was utter chaos outside, between the blare of fire engines and the shouting of emergency personnel.
I finally approached a fireman and found out that everyone had been safely evacuated, so at least I know that Noah made it out okay. And after scanning the crowd for him one more time, I decided I was being ridiculous and went home to take a long shower.
Now that I’m back home, with the hot water running down my body, the memory of his thick thigh wedged between my legs makes my heart race all over again. It seems almost like a dream, like something that must’ve happened to someone else—since there’s no fucking way Margo Lucas would dry hump a stranger’s leg in a stalled elevator, right? But when I close my eyes, I can still remember the feel of his muscled arms around me, the solidness of his body, and the spicy, woody scent of his aftershave.
Biting my lip, I lean back against the cool tiles and breathe in deeply. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.
God, I hope so.
Noah.
I say the name a few times in my head so that I won’t forget it, then turn the shower off and go to pour myself a glass of wine before calling my sister. Heather picks up after the second ring, sounding a little out of breath.
“Hey, Mar. One sec,” she says. Her voice grows a little fainter as she adds, “April, I thought I put you down for a nap.”
“I woke up,” a sweet, high-pitched voice replies in the background.
“I can see that.”
A grin tugs at my lips as I listen to the muffled conversation between my sister and my four-year-old niece. Putting the phone on speaker and resting it on the coffee table next to my glass of wine, I grab my nail polish bottle out of the little basket beneath the coffee table to do some quick touch-ups.
“I’m not tired,” April whines, and Heather sighs in response.
“Fine,” my sister says. “You can come into the living room and watch some TV, but only half an hour of screen time, okay?”
“Yay!”
“Only half an hour of screen time?” I let out a whistle. “You run a strict household.”
“She gets plenty of screen time,” Heather assures me. “Between the iPad and when she steals my phone, I’m pretty sure she spends most of her day staring at screens. It’s something I should probably work harder to curb, but sometimes there’s just no other way for me to get housework done.”
“Hey, no judgment here,” I tell her. “I know you’re living that single mom life. And I’m such a pushover when it comes to that kid, I would let her watch TV all day if she asked me nicely.”
Heather laughs. She knows it’s true. I live to spoil my niece.
“So what’s up?” she asks. “You were supposed to call me like an hour ago.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s been a weird day. Apparently, there was an electrical fire in the building where I had my interview today. I got stuck in an elevator and everything.”
“What?”
She sounds worried, so I hurry to continue.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine! Everything was fine,” I add. “Everyone got out safely. It really wasn’t that big of a fire, but the electrical failure was enough to stop the elevators. While I was in one.”
“Oh, no.” Heather groans. “That’s such a nightmare. I’ve always been terrified of getting stuck in an elevator.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t a pleasant experience.” As I say this, an image of Noah and his gorgeous smile flashes through my mind, but I shake my head and shove the memory away for the moment. I clear my throat, hoping there won’t be anything in my voice that gives me away. “But the firefighters arrived soon enough and rescued us. Not a big deal at the end of the day.”
“Well, that’s a pretty exciting interview. Hopefully they offered you the job after all that!”
“Not exactly.” I wrinkle my nose, finishing up the polish on one hand and switching to touching up the other. It’s a tricky maneuver with a fresh coat of paint on my right fingers, but I’ve been painting my own nails for years now. I’ve gotten pretty good at it. “I don’t think they liked me very much, so I’m not exactly going to hold my breath for a follow-up call.”
Heather makes a sympathetic noise. “I’m sorry, sis. That sucks.”
“It is what it is.” I shrug. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be getting a call from one of the other places where I interviewed this week, and I actually already have an offer on the table from that tech startup. So I’ve got stuff to fall back on. This wasn’t my top choice anyway.”
“You sound very upbeat for someone who didn’t have a good job interview and then got stuck in an elevator during a fire,” my sister comments. “I mean, I know you’re generally a positive person, but if I had that kind of day, I would be in such a bad mood.”
“That’s just the difference between the two of us, I guess,” I say, failing to mention the fact that there’s actually a very simple reason why I probably sound so giddy. It’s because of the mystery man in the elevator, and how he made me feel. The things he did to me.
“I guess,” she says with a sigh. “I wish I could have that sort of optimistic outlook on life.”
I’m about to say something in response when my phone buzzes, alerting me to another incoming call.
“Hang on, Heather,” I say. “I’m getting another call. It’s from a Denver number, so I need to pick it up.”
“Of course, go ahead. But call me back afterward!”
“Will do.”
I reach my pinky out and hit the button that replaces my current call with the incoming one, then gingerly pick up the phone and bring it to my ear, trying my best not to graze my wet nails against anything in the process.
“Hello, this is Margo Lucas.”
“Miss Lucas,” a cheery voice greets me. “This is Sarah calling from the Denver Aces. You had an interview with our marketing director, Ted Gallagher, earlier this week. Is now a good time to chat?”
“Yes,” I say with maybe a little too much eagerness in my voice. “Now is a great time to chat.”
“Fantastic. Well, usually Mr. Gallagher handles these phone calls himself, but he’s in a very important meeting right now, so he asked me to do it. I have the honor of calling to offer you the position of social media manager for the Denver Aces.”
My jaw drops, and I silently wave my free hand in the air in celebration. My interview with Mr. Gallagher went well, even though I bluffed my way through the sports talk a little, pretending I knew what he was saying when he threw out what I can only assume were classic hockey terms and players’ names. But even though I don’t know all the ins and outs of hockey yet, I still have complete faith in my ability to do this job. I’m a fast learner, and I’m great at what I do.
“That’s amazing,” I say before the silence can stretch on too long. “Thank you so much.”
“Does that mean you accept?”
“Yes!” I nod, laughing. “Yes. Sorry. I thought that was obvious. I’m very excited about this opportunity, and I happily accept the offer.”
“That’s wonderful,” Sarah says. “As discussed in the interview, it will be on a provisional basis to start, and assuming all goes well, we’d offer you a full contract after a few months. I know Mr. Gallagher asked if you could be available to start next Monday when you were interviewing with him. Will that still work?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I almost add that I could start tomorrow if they wanted, but then think better of it. I don’t want to sound too desperate, and I could use the prep time. “Monday is perfect.”
“Great. Monday will mostly just be an introductory day. We’ll have you meet everyone, get settled into your new office, and of course have you sit down with payroll and HR to fill out some paperwork. If you can get here a little before nine a.m., Mr. Gallagher will have time to show you around.”
“Before nine. Not a problem. Where should I go?”
“Just come to the arena,” she tells me. “Our team’s practice rink and our offices are all located in the same complex as the arena. Mr. Gallagher will meet you in the lobby and show you around.”
“Okay, sounds great,” I say, leaving out the fact that I’ve never actually been inside a hockey arena before. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“I don’t think so. Oh, wait, yes. Dress warm.”
“Huh?”
“Well, Mr. Gallagher is going to want to give you a tour, and it can get a bit cold in the practice rink. I’ve made the mistake before of wearing a thin blouse and a skirt in the rink, and… let’s just say, I was shivering for the rest of the day.”
“Good thinking.” I smile. “Thanks. I’ll make sure to bring a sweater with me.”
“And if you have any other questions before Monday, go ahead and give me a call back. I’ll be in the office tomorrow and probably for a few hours on Saturday as well.”
“Thank you very much, Sarah,” I say. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Me too,” she replies, and she sounds like she means it. “It’ll be nice to have another woman in the office. It can be a real boys club around here.”
We hang up, and I scroll to my recent contacts, following through on my promise to call Heather right back. She answers before the first ring even finishes, as if she’s been waiting by the phone all this time.
“Who was it?” she asks, not even bothering to say hello.
“That was the assistant to the marketing director of the Denver Aces NHL team.”
She lets out a little squeak. “And?”
“They offered me a job as social media manager. It’s on a provisional basis to start, but hopefully it’ll turn into a full contract.”
This time, the noise my sister makes is a full-out shriek of excitement. “That’s amazing, congrats!” she gushes. She hesitates, then adds, “Do you know anything about hockey?”
Grinning, I put the lid back on the nail polish bottle and relax back onto my couch. I rest my cell phone on my chest, gently blowing on my nails in between talking. “Not too much, but I’ve picked up little bits and pieces from Derek. And I bet I can get him to watch a few games with me and give me a rundown of the rules and stuff.”
Our brothers are both hockey fans, but Derek is a much more dedicated fan than Josh. He’s invited me to a few games over the years, but I’ve never gone with him.
“Besides,” I add, “I was hired as a social media manager, and I do know a lot about social media, so I don’t really see my lack of hockey knowledge as being that big of an issue. Especially since I have until Monday to cram as much information about the team into my head as possible.”
“Oh god, Derek will be over the moon about this,” my sister says with a chuckle. “Anyway, I’m so excited for you. It sounds like this will be a good move in your career, and a challenge can be exciting. It’s good to get out of your comfort zone and try new things.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “And who knows? Maybe somewhere inside me is a crazed hockey fan just begging to be let out.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I can hear her smirk through the phone. “Oh, wait. April has her hand out. She wants the phone.”
I sit up a little. “Oh yeah, let me talk to her!”
There’s a shuffling sound as my sister hands her daughter the phone, then April’s voice comes through, loud and a little shrill. She still hasn’t quite grasped the concept of not shrieking into the speaker when she’s on the phone with me. Not that I mind. I find nearly everything that kid does to be nothing short of adorable.
“Hi, Auntie Margo!” she yells. “It’s April!”
“Hi, Apes. How’s my favorite niece doing?”
“Goo—” she says, because that’s how she still pronounces ‘good’. Without the D at the end.
“Tell your aunt congratulations,” I hear Heather say in the background. “She got a new job!”
“Congra-lations,” April trills, leaving out some letters in the middle.
I laugh. “Thank you, honey bun! I’m very excited about it.”
“When are you coming to see me?” she asks.
“Soon,” I say. “Once I start this new job, I’ll be a little busy for a while, but I promise to come up to Boulder to hang out with you guys, okay?”
“Yay!” April exclaims. “Auntie Margo says she’s coming to visit soon!”
“Alright, let mommy have the phone again,” Heather says in the background. April whines, and I have a feeling based on the struggling sounds that come afterward and the exhausted sigh from my sister, that April is refusing to give up the phone. After a few seconds of back and forth, and then the threat of taking away April’s after dinner treat, the phone is relinquished and my sister’s voice comes through loud and clear. “Okay, I’m back.”
“Don’t take away her treat!” I say. “I would feel so bad if I was the reason she lost her after-dinner treat.”
“You really spoil this kid. You know that, right?”
“That’s what aunts are for.”
“I heard her ask about when you’re coming to visit next,” Heather says, changing the subject. “I was actually wondering the same thing. So were mom and dad.”
“Soon,” I repeat. “I want to spend some time at this job and get my feet under me, but once I’m settled in and get a feel for what the hours are gonna be, I’ll come up for a visit some weekend.”
“Mom will be thrilled,” Heather says. “You should call her after we hang up, actually. She’ll definitely want to know about your new job. And if April is around next time I call her, she’ll spill the beans before you get the chance to tell Mom the news yourself. You know my kid can’t keep a secret.”
“This is true.” I laugh, thinking of April’s tendency to blurt out whatever is on her mind.
“So, tell me more about this job! Did they say anything to you about what your day-to-day is going to look like?”
“Not really.” I put my phone down as I sit up and grab my laptop from the coffee table. Now that Heather mentions it, I’m curious to know more about the team. “But that’s nothing a little Google search can’t fix.”
Tucking my legs up underneath me, I open my computer and start researching. First, I simply type the team name into the search bar, and what comes up is a list of stats. I don’t really know what I’m looking at right away, but the more I scan the page, the more I start to understand.
“Wow,” I say.
“What?”
“They’re pretty good. At least, if these numbers mean what I think they do. And they’ve been on a winning streak since the beginning of the season.”
I navigate away from that website and go back to the original search. I click the first social media account that pops up, then scroll through a series of poorly lit locker room photos and cheesy publicity stories about what the players get up to during the off season.
“Yikes.” I scrunch up my face. “Their social media presence is seriously lacking.”
“That’s great!” Heather says.
“How so?”
“Well, it means you have nowhere to take them but up! That’s gotta take some of the pressure off. How many players are on a normal hockey team, anyway?”
“Beats me.” I chew my lip, scrolling through a few more search results. “Lemme check out the team photos and I’ll count them. One sec.”
I hit ‘images’ in the heading at the top of the Google search, and my screen is suddenly flooded with photos of the team in their blue, black, and white uniforms. I find a photo of what looks like the entire roster and try to count, going down the line from left to right, but the picture is too blurry and I think I accidentally count one of them twice. So I click to a different photo and open it up in a separate page so that it fills the entire laptop screen.
Now I can get a better look at each player individually.
“One,” I say out loud, moving the cursor as I work my way across. “Two, three, four, fi—”
The second half of the word gets caught in my throat, choking off.
My cursor is hovering over the face of the fifth player from the left, and my eyes widen with disbelief. I can’t believe it. It’s the guy. The man from the elevator. I’m staring into his beautiful blue eyes, and he’s smiling back at me with that confident grin I caught brief glimpses of earlier today.
I look down at the bottom of the photo, where all the players’ names and positions are listed, and count my way over to the fifth one.
Noah Blake. Center/Team Captain.
