Gauging the Player: A One-Night-Stand Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romance Book 3)

league! You should totally be MVP this year!” She practically bounced in place. He would’ve argued that he wasn’t anywhere near MVP-worthy, but it would’ve taken longer, so he merely said thank you and hid his embarrassment while she gushed about how awesome he was.
“Do you mind if we get some pictures with you?” she asked. Now they were all waving their phones.
He flicked his eyes to Lily, who seemed to be watching intently. Though used to fan attention, he couldn’t say he was fond of the interruptions to his private time. But fans were the reason he got to play a game he loved for a living and get paid a ridiculous amount of money for the privilege. As his grandmother was fond of saying, a little graciousness would carry him a long way.
“Do you mind? It’ll just be a sec,” he said to Lily with an apology in his tone.
She shook her head. “Of course not.”
After too many pictures to count—and a few autographs—he begged off, and they finally scooted away.
“I expect that comes with the territory,” Lily said. “Does it happen much?”
He shrugged. “Not as much here as in San Jose, which is fine by me.”
“Do they always fondle you like that?”
“Fondle me?”
“You know. Grab your arms and chest. I’m pretty sure one of them had her hand on your butt.”
He coughed out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure one of them did too.” A sigh escaped him. “Fans are the most important part of the game, but sometimes …”
“It must get old. The lack of privacy, I mean. Not the part about getting groped by five pretty young women.”
“Actually, not every man enjoys being groped by strangers, even appealing ones. Present company excepted, of course. Though I wouldn’t classify you as a stranger at this juncture, nor would I call what we did ‘groping.’”
Yeah, he was having trouble letting that night go.
Her cheeks pinked again, turning the color of her milkshake—strawberries-and-cream—and she cast her eyes down. He liked that he could get under her skin like she was getting under his.
The mystery of what made her life so complicated reared up. But before he could ask, servers appeared and deposited their orders. He attacked his food, eager to do something besides swim in a whirlpool of confusion and frustration stirred up by the woman sitting opposite him.
An idea flared in his brain as he shoved down a bite of waffle. “Are you still doing social media consulting?”
She nodded.
His idea began to grow wings. “Do you ever handle fan mail?”
“I can. What are you thinking?”
“I get a lot. More than I have time to deal with. Sarah used to take care of it for me, but since she moved away, my fan mail’s tripled. I’ve been toying with hiring a PA to do it for me, but I haven’t had time to interview anyone. Besides, the thought of a stranger knowing all my personal business has zero appeal.”
He stacked his empty plates and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “The organization wants us to connect with fans, and social media’s the most efficient way to go about it. I mean, those ladies were only five fans. I could reach exponentially more—and skip the groping.”
Lily’s plate was still half-full, and she pushed at the crepes with her fork. Her features suddenly brightened. She dropped her fork, rummaged around in her purse, and pulled out her phone. She tapped her screen, studied it for a beat, then thrust the device at him. “This is you, right?”
He squinted, studying the small screen. “Yep.”
She pulled the phone back. “I’ve looked at your social media, what there is of it, and no offense, but it’s kinda uninspired. You have all kinds of hockey celebrity cred you could be using to your advantage.”
This statement floored him. “Wait. You’ve been on my social media?”
She gave him a sheepish look. “I might’ve taken a peek after we met last summer.”
That warmed him all over. “So you’re talking about me doing social media on topof what the team does?”
Her eyes were doing that sparkle thing again. “Yes! People could get their daily Gage Nelson fix directly from Gage Nelson, without the Blizzard filter.”
“Trust me, my life’s not that interesting.”
“I can promote all kinds of things fans would find interesting. Do you have a dog?”
He shook his head. “Just a stray cat I feed whenever he comes around.”
“What’s his name?”
“I call him Hobbes.” She gave him the scrunchy I-don’t-get-it face, which he returned with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Calvin and Hobbes? The cartoon strip?”
“Um …”
“Kid with a pet tiger, and he’s always getting into trouble? It’s a classic.”
“I vaguely remember. I’m more of a Prince Valiant kind of girl.”
“Because he’s a knight, or because of his awesome bowl cut?”
She burst out with a laugh. “Oh, it’s totally the hair. As for Hobbes, I could post a picture of you—it would look like you’re the one posting—cuddling Hobbes. Fans would eat it up. Or of you sitting on your couch, with the cat in your lap.”
Without him noticing, the waitress had removed the plates and swapped out coffee carafes. “Hobbes and I do not cuddle. Besides, what’s the point?”
“You do charity work, right?”
He nodded.
Her face lit up, growing prettier by the second. “Think of the exposure for those organizations. Pictures of you hanging out with kids, relaxing with first responders, whatever the cause. The public loves that stuff, and they’ll want to get involved because they see this hockey hunk—that’s you—doing it, and they want to emulate you.” She glanced at the phone again. “Your last post was in June?”
Carafe in hand, he tipped fresh coffee into their cups—though he didn’t need any more caffeine in his system—and gave her a nod.
“You don’t post, but you’ve got twenty-two thousand followers!” She began bubbling over. “You’ve got a ready-made audience dying to hear about you.”
When he didn’t respond—he was still processing her calling him a hockey hunkand that people wanted to hear about him—she said, “Tell me about the