I Burned The Hockey Star Down novel · Chapter 1 of 32
Chapter 1: The Big Reveal
Dane wins the Cup, kisses Skye on live TV, locks Greer in a men's room and tells reporters he'd never date his assistant; Greer quits in his penthouse, and his phone lights up with his agent's order to cut her loose.
"After we win, I'll tell the world you're my girlfriend."
Dane Hollings said that to me in the equipment room four hours before the final buzzer.
Now the buzzer was going off, and twenty thousand people were screaming his name.
Confetti came down over the ice.
The Portland Rainmakers had just won the Stanley Cup, and my boyfriend of five years had scored the winner.
"Ten seconds, Greer," Beau Callister said beside me. He bumped my shoulder with his. "You ready for the big reveal?"
Beau was the assistant coach. He was the only person on staff who had ever guessed.
"I'm going to throw up," I said.
"Throw up after. He's going to want a picture."
I gripped the top of the boards and laughed.
Five years.
Five years of service elevators and separate flights.
Five years of walking into restaurants ten minutes after him and sitting at the bar.
His agent said a girlfriend would kill his female fans, so on paper I was his assistant. I ran his calendar, his second phone, his charity and his social accounts.
Tonight that was supposed to end.
Dane skated toward the glass with the Cup over his head.
He found me in the crowd and grinned.
I took a step toward the gate.
Then Skye Penhaligon vaulted over the VIP barrier.
"Dane!"
She landed on the ice in designer boots, slid three feet, and threw her arms around his neck.
Dane didn't push her away.
He caught her by the waist.
She kissed him, and he kissed her back, with his eyes closed, while the cameras turned the whole thing into a strobe light for the people watching at home.
The noise of the arena went flat and far away.
Beau said my name.
I was already walking.
My phone buzzed in my pocket the whole way down the corridor. Trending: #DaneAndSkye. #CupCouple.
Grady Sloat, Dane's agent, stepped out of a doorway and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Whoa, whoa. Where are we going, kid?"
I shoved his hand off. "I need to see him."
"He's doing press. You go out the staff exit."
"Not tonight."
"You work for him. You do what I say."
"I'm his girlfriend."
Grady smiled with every one of his white veneers.
"You're his assistant," he said. "And right now you're a problem."
Heavy steps came down the hall.
Dane rounded the corner in his soaked jersey, still flushed, still wearing a cap with the Cup logo on it.
"Dane," I said. "Tell him to move."
He looked over his shoulder first.
That was what I remember most. He checked who was watching before he looked at me.
"Listen to Grady, Greer. Keep your voice down."
"Keep my voice down? You kissed her on live TV."
"She kissed me. It's a stunt. The network set it up."
"And you didn't think to warn me?"
"I'm warning you now." He shrugged. "Things changed. Grady says the Skye angle is huge for my brand."
"Your brand? You promised me tonight was ours."
"Grow up, Greer."
Then the reporters came around the far corner, a whole wave of them, shouting his name.
Dane panicked.
He grabbed my arm hard enough to leave marks, yanked open the door of the men's restroom, and shoved me inside.
"Stay here till they're gone."
The door slammed in my face.
It was dark. It smelled like bleach and wet tile.
Outside, microphones clattered.
"Dane! Are you and Skye official?"
"Any truth to the rumors about a girl on your staff?"
I put my hand flat on the door.
I actually waited for him to say it.
Dane laughed, the easy, media-trained laugh I had helped him practice.
"I'm definitely not dating my assistant."
Three hours later, the victory party was roaring in the ballroom of the Hotel Alder.
I sat in the lobby in my staff fleece and stared at a fake plant.
My own phone buzzed.
A text from Dane. Bring the spare penthouse keycard up. Skye needs to get in.
He wanted his assistant to escort his new girlfriend to his bed.
I took the elevator to the twenty-fourth floor and pounded on the door.
Skye opened it with a glass of champagne in her hand.
She was wearing a faded gray band tee.
My chest locked up.
It was his lucky shirt. He'd never let me wash it, not once in five years.
"Oh," Skye said. "The assistant. Took you long enough."
I walked past her.
Dane was sitting on the end of the king bed, untying his dress shoes. His white shirt was open halfway down his chest.
"Just give her the key, Greer," he said, without looking up. "You didn't have to come in."
"Did you sleep with her last night?"
Skye laughed.
She trailed a finger along his shoulder.
"I'll give you two a minute. Don't take too long, babe. The bed's getting cold."
She went into the bathroom and locked the door.
Dane finally looked at me.
"What is your problem?"
I threw the keycard at the glass coffee table. It bounced off and landed on the rug.
"You humiliated me on television. You shoved me in a bathroom. Now she's wearing your shirt."
"It's PR. The fans love us together. It's good for the endorsement deals."
"I asked you a question."
He picked at his shoelace.
He didn't answer.
That was the answer.
I took off my staff lanyard and laid it on the coffee table beside the keycard.
"I quit," I said. "Your calendar's your problem now. So is your charity. So is your book."
Dane actually laughed.
"You can't quit. Who's going to finish my book?"
The bathroom door opened a crack.
"Babe," Skye called. "Is she crying? Get a picture."
I walked out.
I made it all the way to the elevator before I realized his second phone was still in my bag.
It buzzed as the doors closed.
A text from Grady Sloat.
After the Skye story runs, cut the assistant loose before the book. She's sat through every tape.
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