Boss Girl (Minnesota Ice #2) Page 8

  Secure Boxer as a client. Stop daydreaming that it could be something more, and take care of him and his daughter as best I can financially. It’s the only way that everyone ends up happy.

  I think.

  Before I can wonder where it leaves me on the happiness spectrum, my phone rings, and I’m grateful for the distraction. I click answer, straighten the flowers, and make my way back to the car.

  “Jocelyn,” I say into the mouthpiece. “Who’s this?”

  “Matthew Lucas,” a clipped, New York accent says. “I’m calling about the endorsement deal for ComfortBox.”

  “Yes! What can I do for you?”

  “Landon Boxer. Are you working with him yet? I’m not holding the spot open any longer. We want him, but if he’s not ready to move forward, we’re going with someone else.”

  “Give me a week.”

  “Two days.”

  “Done,” I say with a smile.

  That’s why I’ve succeeded in my career. I didn’t need a week to get the job done, I needed twenty-four hours. Now I’ve got two days, and that’ll be plenty of time.

  I take one last look at my parents’ names, catching myself on the verge of a wish. I almost wished they could hear me, offer me advice, lead me to the right answer. To what question? I’m not even sure. All I can say for certain is that I like Boxer too much to corral him like I would any other client. If I can’t act on my feelings for him, the least I can do is make sure he’s happy.

  A sense of peace rests on my shoulders as I turn away, a lightness in my chest. I’ve never quite figured out if it’s the act of speaking aloud, or remembering my parents, or what it is about these cemetery visits that eases my mind, but I keep coming back, and I keep solving my problems. It’s a little bit like magic.

  And I plan to keep coming back again and again, and maybe a solution to my latest problem will present itself in time.

  Chapter 17

  Boxer

  “Plates, napkins, cupcakes...” I glance at the list Marie jotted down last minute, but it’s nearly impossible to read. Plates? What color plates? What size? Should the napkins be white? Red? Which candles go with unicorn theme?

  Speaking of unicorns, I’m fairly certain one of these mystical creatures galloped into Target and vomited all over my cart. That’s the only explanation for the amount of junk I have in here. Glitter and streamers poke out from every nook and cranny.

  I’m six foot three, over two hundred pounds, and I can barely push this load of junk through the aisles. I’d thought that getting everything would be easiest, but now I’m having second thoughts, and I can’t bear the idea of putting everything back.

  Now, there aren’t very many things that make me nervous. I’ve faced off with the biggest, meanest players in the NHL and not batted an eye. I’ve stopped a mugging mid-mug, and didn’t blink. I’ve driven over a hundred miles an hour on the 405, and still, I hardly broke a sweat.

  Ask me to plan a birthday party for a six-year-old princess, and I feel like I’ve been told to walk the plank. Except this is worse, because the plank is purple and pink and slick with sparkles.

  I hate to do this, but it’s the only thing I can think of in my panic. Pulling out my phone, I hit dial on the last number I called.

  “Oh, hey, you!” Jocelyn sounds pleasantly surprised. “Long time no talk. We’ve made it what... two hours?”

  “I need help.”

  “Of course. Anything.” Her voice turns serious in an instant. “What’s wrong? Is it Charli?”

  “No, not exactly. Well, yes.”

  “Is she okay? What happened? Was it that stupid swing set?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “No, she’s fine, it’s actually me. I’m in trouble.”

  “Where are you? I’m in the car.”

  “Target.”

  “Target?”

  “Listen.” I pause, flinching as I ask this next question. I know if I loop her into this, I’m stepping beyond the bounds of business that I’d just requested we keep, but I can’t help it. I have nobody else to ask. “You turned six once, right?”

  “Like, six years old?” She gives a tinkling laugh. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  “And you had a birthday party?”

  She hesitates. “Yes.” Her voice is a bit distant, almost sad. “The theme was horses.”

  “Oh, thank God.” I rest a hand on my forehead and pinch away the stress. “I know I’ll owe you big time, but I have a favor to ask. Marie’s mother just got sick—the nanny—and I sent her home for the week to help out.”

  “And Charli’s birthday is...?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Ah.”

  “Marie normally takes care of everything. She buys stuff, does stuff, prepares stuff... she’ll be gone until Sunday.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “Are you sure?” I look over the cart with a skeptical eye. “I have half of Target in my cart, and it’s not pretty.”

  “As long as we’re not going down the Barbie aisle, we should be good.”

  “No Barbies.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “I can’t tell you how much this means to me, Jocelyn. If I had someone else to call, I would, but my parents are upstate, and I only have a brother, and—”

  “Stop it,” she says briskly. “We’ll get through this no problem. I’m ordering you to grab a burger or something—you’ll need energy—and then sit still. I’ll be right there. Which Target?”

  “Culver City.”

  “On my way. Oh, Boxer?”

  “Yes?”

  “I was actually about to call you. Unrelated to this, of course, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Anything.”

  “You’ll... ahh,” she pauses. “Want to know what it is first.”

  “It can’t be worse than a six-year-old birthday party at the last minute.”

  “I’m hoping you’ll sign an endorsement deal with ComfortBox. They’ll fly you out to New York for a two-day shoot, so you’d be spending one night away from Charli. Seven figures.”

  “One night away.”

  “Of all that, and you heard one night away?”

  “I don’t like being gone.”

  “What if Charli could come with us?”

  “Us?”

  “Er, you. I suppose I could go with you if you needed help to organize and schedule things.”

  “This is the undies company?”

  “They sell men’s undergarments, and they want you to be the face of their new boxer campaign. It’ll be a quick photoshoot; it’ll be fun. You’ll look great—I promise.”

  “I don’t mean this the wrong way, but you’re not my agent. What do you get out of this?”

  “Nothing!”

  To my surprise, she sounds downright cheerful. I echo her in confusion. “Nothing.”

  “I just got the call from Matthew not ten minutes ago. I was going to call Duke and hand him the lead. Think of it as an olive branch. Duke will get the agent’s commission—it’ll be a nice chunk of change to start his retirement off right. You’ll have enough to set up a solid college fund for Charli.”

  “And you?”

  “Look, I just think you’re the best man for the job. I don’t need the money.”

  She sounds sincere, her voice quiet, and in all honesty, I’m speechless. I clear my throat, pretending to stall, but I already have my answer. Jocelyn’s stuck her neck out for me, and I’m not going to let her down. She’s thought of everything—including, especially, Charli.

  “You’ve got yourself a deal,” I say, huskily. “Thank you.”

  “Really?!”

  “You’re helping me with this thing, aren’t you?” I gesture to the cart, realizing she can’t see me, and clarify. “The party. This is the least I can do to thank you.”

  “Great! I’m going to call Duke. When he contacts you, pretend we haven’t talked. It’s best if he sets things up. That’s how I wanted everything to go.�
�

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks, Boxer.”

  “Jocelyn?”

  “Hmm?”

  “See you soon.”

  When we click off the phone, my palms are sweaty. In the last ten minutes, my emotions have been taken on a rollercoaster. Panic to relief to surprise to... touched? God, I’m turning into a pansy. I’m nervous just thinking about Jocelyn walking through those doors; my insides are a pile of goo.

  In some odd way, it feels as if we’ve broken through a barrier. When I needed help, I called Jocelyn. She’s coming to my rescue. Isn’t that what friends do?

  Look, I know I told Jocelyn that I wanted to sign with a friend, not a stranger, but I hadn’t meant this level of friendship. I’d just wanted her to tone down the formality and call me Boxer instead of Mr. Boxer. Now she’s helping me plan my kid’s birthday party. I hadn’t meant for things to get so far out of hand.

  When did things get so complicated? I just needed a new agent. And now, I’m afraid, I’ve found something else entirely. I’m starting to fall for Jocelyn Jones, and I’m not sure I can go back to the way things were before.

  Chapter 18

  Jocelyn

  I don’t think I’ve been this giddy since I turned six years old.

  We’d had horses and cakes and decorate-your-own-cookies, and even a magician at my party. I’d worn a pretty pink dress and invited friends from school. I still have a photo of me wearing a crown, holding the hand of my mother, who’d worn a matching pink dress at my insistence.

  Now, the memories are bittersweet at best. I haven’t thought about that time in so long, despite a picture I keep in my wallet of my special day. Though the event itself was bursting with excitement, the years thereafter were not. That was one of the last parties my parents had been alive to see.

  I blink, exiting the freeway a little quicker than needed, turning into the parking lot minutes later. It’s already mid-afternoon, and I haven’t been back to the office since lunch. It’s been years since I’ve felt so irresponsible. Maybe I’ll call in sick for the rest of the day and head home right after this. I don’t think I’ve ever played hooky from the office—my job is my life. I would have nowhere else to go.

  I especially hadn’t thought I’d spend my one day free from work at Target. I hadn’t thought I’d be back to this monstrosity again this year, let alone in the same week. Getting to Target from my condo is like trying to swim through shark infested waters with little more than a wetsuit for protection—it’s just not worth it. Especially not when Amazon delivers the very same things directly to my door.

  But if that’s what it takes to befriend Landon Boxer, I’ll swim through those waters any damn day of the week.

  “Hey, Duke,” I say into my Bluetooth speaker. I waited to call until I’d parked the car first, so I could give him my full attention. “It’s me.”

  “Jocelyn, what can I do for you?”

  “I have an offer,” I say. “Listen first, ask questions later.”

  Quickly, I explain everything to him—the finances, the travel, the endorsement deal. I throw in the rest of the information I’ve already covered with Boxer.

  “I want you to have the deal,” I say. “Boxer’s the best man for the job. Give Matthew Lucas a call today to set things up.”

  “Boxer’s not going to say yes.”

  “I think you might be surprised.”

  “Miss Jones—”

  “Do me a favor and ask.” I’m in a hurry to get out of the car, mostly because I have ice cream melting in a container next to me. “I think it’s up to Boxer to say no, don’t you? You get the money if he signs on the dotted line. If he says no, it’s five minutes out of your day. Two if you skip the small talk.”

  “I’ll do it because you bought me lunch, Miss Jones, but don’t hold your breath.”

  “Thanks, Duke. I have a feeling we’ll be chatting soon.”

  I get out of the car, but not before I grab the small container of now-melting ice cream I picked up from Gabe’s on the way over. It had been directly on my route between the cemetery and Target, and I hadn’t even made the decision to stop. My body did it on its own—paying, ordering, and returning to the car—before I’d realized what had happened.

  I march through the front doors, purse on one shoulder, ice cream in hand. It doesn’t take long to find the distressed single dad perched on the bench in front of Taco Bell with a crumpled bag on the seat next to him.

  In front of him is a cart, and by God he must have a degree in architectural design in order to fill the thing that high. It’s like a Lego project on steroids. Paper plates, crowns, and streamers are popping out of every line on the cart, rolls of wrapping paper poking out like tent poles in every direction. On top of it all is a piñata that looks like a cross between a monkey and a giraffe. I don’t understand it either.

  “There you are.” He raises to his feet, blue eyes awash with relief at the first sighting of me. “Thank you so much for coming. I dropped Charli off at her friend’s house for the afternoon, thinking I’d get all of this done while she was occupied. No such luck.”

  A wrinkle of worry eases across his forehead as I smile and extend Gabe’s as an offering.

  “Sit down,” I instruct. “Eat this, and take a deep breath. Then, we’ll get started.”

  “You brought...” He cracks open the lid of the container. “Crunch cone?”

  “I figured you might need to stress eat.”

  He reaches into the Taco Bell bag and removes two spoons. “Don’t ask why I grabbed two,” he mutters, offering one to me. “I’m not thinking straight.”

  I don’t complain, instead sinking onto the bench next to him. He offers me the first bite and, even though I’m still full from our French Dip sandwiches earlier, I accept. The moment is too sweet to say no.

  It’s still the best ice cream I’ve ever had, and Boxer seems to agree. He takes a bite, his eyes closing in a peaceful sort of rest, the worry sliding from his face like sand through an hourglass.

  He’s fascinating to watch, the change in expression almost lyrical as he opens his eyes a new man. Where pale-blue worry had hovered before, a glimmer of excitement has taken over, and it has my heart skipping a beat to think I might’ve helped put it there.

  “You’re something else,” Boxer says with a shake of his head. “I wish I could repay you somehow.”

  Almost like magic, Boxer’s phone rings. He blinks, glances down, and shakes his head again.

  “Go ahead,” I tell him. “I can wait.”

  “Hello, Duke,” he says, shooting me a skeptical glance as he answers. “How’s it going?”

  Silence descends on us as the low murmur of Duke’s voice rasps in the background. I wish I could hear what he’s saying, but it’s probably not necessary. I know the gist of it.

  “Actually, I might be interested.” Boxer finally speaks, giving me a wry grin. “If it’s really just one night away, I’ll sign it.”

  Internally, champagne bottles are popping. I’m not even sure why. I’m just happy to help, and I think this is a great move for Boxer. I might not get a cut of the money, but in a way I have a reward. Seeing him happy.

  Money will come, or it won’t. But I have a feeling that Boxer’s friendship isn’t something that can be bought, and the fact that he thought to call me to rescue him from Target imprisonment means something.

  “Get the papers, Duke,” Boxer says. He waits a second longer, then laughs at Duke’s next question. He glances at me, and responds. “Why don’t you just ask her?”

  I’m startled as Boxer hands the phone to me, but I try to play it cool.

  “Hello?” I clear my throat. “This is Jocelyn.”

  “Oh, Miss Jones...” Duke tsks in the background, and I can’t tell if he’s chiding me or if he’s amused. “Well played, my friend. Well played.”

  “Why don’t you give Matthew a call? I’ll text you his number.”

  “I shouldn’t have underesti
mated you,” Duke says. “Well done, Miss Jones. I’m impressed.”

  Chapter 19

  Boxer

  “Landon Boxer.”

  I stop in the middle of the aisle, turning slowly to face a horrified-looking Jocelyn Jones.

  “What?” My heart pounds. “What’s wrong?”

  “Who do you think you are?” she asks.

  “Sorry?”

  “Mixing Pocahontas with The Little Mermaid?! Honestly, Boxer.”

  She holds up one set of paper plates and one package of napkins. Finally, her face blooms into a smile, her light laugh sending tremors across my skin that have me wanting to pull her into my arms. Instead, I rest a hand against my heart and shake my head. “You scared me. I thought you were going to be sick or something.”

  “Then you throw an Aladdin piñata into the mix? On top of the weird giraffe thing? You only need one piñata.” She removes a fat, bright blue genie from the cart and places him back on the shelf. “It’s a good thing you called me, or else this party would’ve been a mess.”

  “Horrible.”

  “Like Disney vomited all over your house.” She pauses. “You are throwing it at home, right? I guess I didn’t ask.”

  “Fourteen girls. All at once.” I close my eyes, already fighting off a migraine just imagining the high-pitched chaos. “I am about to offer Marie all my signing money from this endorsement deal if she comes back.”

  “You don’t have any help?”

  “We’re flying to visit my parents the week after, so they’re not coming down for this party. My brother will send a present like he always does. I’ve never had to think about help before. Marie always just... took care of us. She sent out the invitations a couple of weeks ago, so it’s too late to cancel.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  I grimace. “I tried to combine three princesses, and I didn’t even realize that was a faux paus.”

  “It’s not a faux pas,” she corrects, narrowing her eyes at me. “It’s a sin.”

  I make the sign of the cross, which brings a laugh from her. “What if...” I shake my head. “Forget it. We’ll be fine. Or, maybe you can draw out a plan for where things go? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”