Wild Love (Campus Nights Book 4)

by Rebecca Jenshak

  “Yeah. We got in late last night.”

  “We?”

  “Oh, uh, I drove up with Johnny Maverick.”

  “Right. Of course.”

  We catch an elevator to the top floor. Everyone we pass smiles at Blythe or tips their head in greeting. I’m happy to see lots of people in more casual attire and lots of sneakers.

  “This is me.” She walks into a large corner office. The view from her window looks down to the same street as the apartment and a crossroads. “I’ll run through all the details of your contract tomorrow after orientation, but this is where you can find me if I’m not in a meeting, and if I’m in here, then I’m always available if you have any questions.”

  Her office is tastefully and beautifully decorated. Very modern and chic and so her. The white desk has gold metal legs and is entirely clutter-free except for her laptop and a cup of tea. She motions to a large box behind me. “That’s the product for the endorsement. I will bring it down to you this afternoon or tomorrow morning once you get your desk assignment.”

  My fingers itch to see what’s in there. Protein bars? Athletic wear? The suspense is killing me.

  We head back out of her office, and she leads me to a conference room. “Let me introduce you to the other two interns in our group.”

  Inside, people are moving around. Long tables are pushed together and face the front of the room where a projector displays a welcome PowerPoint slide. “Today is a general session for all interns. They’ll go over everything and show you around the building. Lunch is catered and…” she trails off. “Am I talking too fast? Sorry, I tend to do that.”

  “No.” I laugh softly. “I think I got it all. I’m really excited.”

  She smiles so genuinely at me before stopping next to a girl with shiny brown hair, dressed to kill like those people on the street that looked like they were off to bust through the glass ceiling. Only far more fashionable. She’s career Barbie.

  “Dakota, this is Quinn.”

  I greet Quinn and get a polite smile and once-over. Blythe takes a step next to a guy wearing a Wildcat tie that I don’t think he’s wearing ironically. “And this is Reese.”

  “Hello,” he says and does a one-arm wave that’s a little goofy, but I can tell already suits him.

  I take a seat between them. This is so surreal. I cannot believe I’m here.

  Blythe grins at her dutiful interns sitting together. “I’ll check in with you all this afternoon. Welcome to the Wildcats.”

  10

  Dakota

  After several more welcome speeches from various members of the Wildcat front office, we’re given a quick tour of the facilities. We start at the ticket office and then see all the main offices where most of us will be working. From there, we go down to the practice rink, which is sadly not in use, then we’re guided to the game ice, which is also woefully empty, but wow, is it impressive.

  Actually, the whole building is remarkable, from the green bleacher seats in the main arena to the fabulous paint job in the hallways with framed black and white photographs of the team over the years. It’s like the Hall of Fame back at Valley decided to have a baby with a hockey arena, and that baby got all the functional qualities of the arena and all the extra fabulous genes of the Hall of Fame. There’s even upbeat music playing softly over the speakers in the hallways.

  I am in awe.

  There’s a buzz about the upcoming season. These people really love their hockey team, and I grin when Johnny’s name is mentioned several times with other newly signed players they’re excited about.

  Admittedly, with every corner we turn that doesn’t have a big, burly hockey player on the other side, I’m more disappointed. It’s increasingly possible that my bestie got in my head with the whole hockey hottie nonsense. But come on, we haven’t had one player sighting this morning.

  Then when I can practically smell the sweat and pheromones, they just wave a hand toward a long hallway where the players work out, watch film, and dress, and instruct us to turn around. I was really hoping for a peek into the locker room. Not for a glimpse of a perfect ass, although that would have perked this tour right up, but because I want to see if it’s as over the top as I imagine.

  And now they’re shuffling us back to the conference room. The slide on the projector reads Wildcat History and has a picture of a team from back in the eighties if the Burt Reynolds mustaches and mullets are any indication.

  “Oooh, maybe now we’ll get to meet some players,” I say as I take my seat between Quinn and Reese. “I’ve got this whole image in my head where they parade them in front of us to show us what all our hard work is really about. Maybe Jack Wyld gives us a touching speech, and then we all get a fist bump and an autograph. Go, team!”

  Quinn shoots me a weird look.

  “Doubtful. Not after last summer.” Reese’s voice is quiet as he mutters the sentence out of one side of his mouth.

  “What happened last summer?” I’m whispering, but I have no idea why.

  “Last page of the handbook,” he offers at my confused expression and points the end of the green Minnesota Wildcats pencil in his hand.

  I flip through the little paper booklet we were each given first thing this morning and skim the paragraph on workplace relationships.

  “Seriously?” I whisper as I reread it, homing in on the we strongly discourage dating between any Wildcat employees clause. They provided helpful examples of Wildcat employees to further drive home the point. Manager and team member, coworkers, and intern and player. It doesn’t explain what happened last summer, but the result is pretty straightforward.

  It isn’t like I was really going to date a player, but I am surprised to see it in black and white.

  Jack does not come in to give us a rousing pep talk. Neither do any of the other players. After many more slides on the Wildcats and the internship program, we’re finally shown to our workspaces, and all my hopes of a famous athlete sighting on my first day are dashed.

  Exhausted from sitting too long, but still so giddy I can’t stop smiling because OMG, I work here, I sit at my new cubicle in the intern pool. We’re grouped with other interns in our department, so it looks like I’m going to be spending a lot of time with Quinn and Reese.

  I spin in the chair, and Quinn gives me an amused smirk. I think I’m growing on her. She hasn’t said much today except to let us know that her dad is friends with the owner, and she scores an invite to the season kickoff party every year. Am I jealous? Not at all. Am I going to befriend her in hopes she gets a plus-one? Maybe. Kidding… I think. I really need to get Reagan out of my head. I’ve worked around athletes for years. Still, this feels different.

  Reese is also local, like Quinn. It’s his second year interning at the Wildcats, but he’s a lifelong fan, backed up by the many random stats and records he recites about the players any time one is mentioned. The first thing he sets on his new desk is a hockey puck.

  It’s after five, but we’re waiting for Blythe to get out of a meeting and give us instructions for tomorrow. When she appears, the entire floor stops to watch her. She’s got that something about her, and I swear she walks like every space is her personal catwalk.

  “I’m so sorry. I got held up in a meeting. How was your first day?” She glances between us.

  We mutter a chorus of tired “good”.

  “Go home and let your brains recover from information overload. We’ll get started first thing tomorrow.” She smiles, hands clasped around her cell phone. “See you in the morning.”

  Reese loosens his tie and pulls it off over his head. “Some of the other interns went to Wild’s, the bar down the street. You guys want to grab a drink?”

  “I’m in,” I say, getting my purse. I’m too excited to go sit in my empty apartment.

  Quinn stares down at her phone as she answers. “The players won’t be there. They avoid this area during the summers. Even the ones that come into the arena.”

  Reese and I
exchange a look, and Quinn stops messing with her phone long enough to look up and roll her eyes. “There are so many better bars in the area. The only appeal of Wild’s is the hockey player sightings, but whatever, sure. I have a nail appointment downtown at seven, so I might as well stay.”

  “Great.” Reese tucks his tie into his pocket. “Let’s do it.”

  I text Reagan while we walk. She tells me that she and Adam are at the library but promises to call when she gets home to hear all about my day. I consider texting Maverick to see if he wants to join us, but I doubt he wants to be accosted by a bunch of eager interns. If they’re anything like me, salivating for a first run-in, then he’d be sorry he showed. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Johnny would probably eat it up.

  Wild’s has a cool vibe. It’s your basic sports bar. TVs tuned to sporting events, Wildcats memorabilia on the walls, dartboards, and pool tables. It’s bright inside instead of the usual dim lighting that gives off that don’t look too closely at the grime mood of some bars. The table we sit at isn’t sticky or rickety. I guess when you have pro hockey players hanging out, you have to step up the cleanliness.

  “Are you a Wildcats fan?” Reese asks me. In a surprising move, Quinn offered to grab the first round and is at the bar getting our drinks.

  “I guess so.”

  He chuckles, deep and throaty but friendly. Then points to Quinn standing on the quiet end of the bar next to two guys. The bartender brings the drinks, and she gives them a parting glance before heading back to us.

  “Do you know Declan Sato or Leo Lohan?”

  “No.” I shake my head and then give the guys another up and down. “Oh, shit. Are they players?”

  He nods as Quinn sets our drinks down with a triumphant smile.

  “Guess they do come out in the off-season,” Reese says to her.

  “They aren’t exactly the most social of players. They’re no Jack Wyld.”

  “Why? Because they don’t chat up random puck bunnies at the bar?”

  Oh snap, does he mean Quinn?

  “I am not a puck bunny.”

  I’m with her in the horrified expression on her face. Slut-shaming is so nineties.

  Reese’s face pales. “Shit, I didn’t mean you. I meant… never mind. I’m sorry.”

  She picks up her drink and fingers the straw. “Besides, if I were, my standards would be Jack Wyld high.”

  Oh, Quinn. I think I might like her.

  “Anyway,” Reese says. “Now you’ve had your first official sighting.”

  “Not like it matters since they’re off-limits this summer.” Quinn frowns.

  I note she says this summer as if she fully intends to bag a hockey player someday—a top player by the sounds of it.

  Reese drops his voice. “You can thank Jack for that rule.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  He shifts in his chair and leans in, resting one elbow on the table. “Last summer, there was an intern, Crissy, who was rumored to be hooking up with a player.”

  “Jack?” Quinn asks. “I doubt it. Probably some chick looking for attention.”

  “Maybe.” He nods. “I didn’t know her. I was in the media department last summer, but Crissy was doing a rotation in the social media department, like us, with Blythe at the same time she posted the picture.” He sits tall and uses his hands like he’s painting the scene for us. “Her, with a sheet pulled up to cover her, but obviously naked and then someone, allegedly Jack, lying in the bed behind her.”

  “Allegedly?” I ask.

  “Just a back and part of a shoulder. Impossible to make out,” Reese clarifies. “She posted it from the team’s page, though with the caption, CHEATER. It blew over pretty fast since no one could be sure it was him. Besides, our captain can bang the entire state as long as he keeps playing like he’s been. But, they put the no-dating-players rule in right after that incident.

  “First of all, Jack doesn’t do exclusive relationships, so the idea that he cheated is silly.” Quinn purses her glossy lips.

  “And second?” Reese prompts.

  “It’s dumb that they made a rule because one person couldn’t keep their shit together.”

  “Wow,” I say, stunned. I’m shocked at the gall it would take to do that. And to risk the job. I’ve seen pictures of Jack, and he’s gorgeous, but to go to that extreme and publicly call him out?

  We sit in silence for a few moments before Reese breaks the silence again. “Arizona, what led you to Minnesota?”

  “The job, of course.”

  “I mean, lots of internships out there. Why one so far from Arizona?”

  “Running from something?” Quinn asks. There’s a sparkle in her eyes. I could have guessed she likes the drama, but it’s confirmed when I see how ecstatic she is at the prospect.

  “No. A friend from college recommended me for the job.”

  “Where do you go to college?” Reese asks.

  A burst of pride sparks under my skin. “Valley University.”

  His smile spreads. “They won the Frozen Four this year.”

  I nod. “Yep.”

  “Man, they had a great season. I wanted to be in Kansas City for the final game, but I couldn’t make it work.”

  “I was there, and it was awesome.”

  “Wait… a friend from college. You don’t mean…”

  “Yep.” Another dose of pride. It was amazing to hear Maverick’s name dropped so many times today. The people of Minnesota are really excited that the Wildcats signed him.

  “What?” Quinn looks between us. “What am I missing? Who do you know?” She narrows her eyes at me.

  “Johnny Maverick. We went to college together.” It’s weird to think of that in the past tense. He won’t be there when I go back.

  The corners of her mouth pull down into an unimpressed frown. “Never heard of him before today.”

  “You will,” Reese says and lifts his beer bottle to the center of the table. “To the Wildcats.”

  Quinn and I touch our glasses to his. “To the Wildcats.”

  I stick with Reese, and he introduces me to a lot of people. Since he interned last summer and is local, he has all the inside knowledge, and I feel like I’m drinking from the end of a fire hose. I want to do such an amazing job this summer.

  Quinn eventually ditches us for her nail appointment, but I’m glad she came out. She’s unlike any of my other friends, but there’s something about her brazenness that I kind of dig.

  Speaking of friends, Reagan calls while we’re playing darts. I excuse myself and find a spot at a quiet section of the bar.

  My best friend’s face fills the screen, and I smile back at her.

  “Rea!”

  “Kota! I miss you.” She sticks out her bottom lip. “Tell me about your first day. Was it amazing? Did you meet any hockey hotties? I miss you so much!”

  “I miss you too.” And I do. We’ve been inseparable for the past three years. There are few days since we met that I haven’t seen or talked to her.

  “And hockey hotties?” Her mouth pulls into a wide smile.

  “A couple of sightings here at the bar, but just backs of heads. It’s just as well. They made it clear at our orientation today that fraternizing with the hockey players is not cool.”

  “You can’t date the players?” Her mouth forms a perfect O, and her eyes widen. You’d think I just told her I can’t leave my desk to use the bathroom.

  “Oh, come on, it isn’t like I was in a real position to do that anyway.” The only player I will be spending time with this summer is the one I’m working with on the endorsement. And Maverick, of course. Well, assuming he wants to hang out. He might be busy with team stuff.

  “Please, you have WAG section written all over you,” she teases. “The way you wore Maverick’s number at the Frozen Four, and then he scored a hat trick. That’s enough to convince any guy you meet there that you are the perfect accessory to a great season.”

  I snort-laugh. “Except I
won’t be here once the season starts.”

  “I believe in you. Make it happen.”

  Channeling my dramatic friend, I place a hand on my chest. “Hey there. Do you want to casually date for the next two months? I’m leaving at the end of the summer, but my vagina is so magical. I guarantee that you’ll have a great season.”

  I giggle and look to Reagan, who I expect to be laughing along with me. Her brown eyes are even wider now. “Uhh, Kota.”

  “What?”

  She points, and I swivel in my chair and come face-to-face with Johnny and Jack Wyld.

  Maverick is chuckling under his breath, and Jack has an amused smirk. Holy hell, he’s good-looking up close. The same height as Maverick, but broader and sporting just the right amount of scruff. His dark hair is slicked back. He’s sex on legs. I retract my earlier words because I can see exactly how he might make a young girl go crazy and toss her sanity and job out the window.

  “How much of that did you hear?”

  “Enough to want to buy you a drink.” Jack lifts his hand to signal the bartender.

  “I’m going to hang up now.” Reagan’s voice draws me back to her smiling face on the phone. She singsongs, “Have fun.”

  She disconnects, and I have no choice but to face Johnny and Jack.

  Maverick takes the seat next to me. “Jack, this is my friend Dakota. Kota, I’m guessing you know Jack.”

  “No,” I say, then shake my head. “I mean, yes, I know who you are.”

  Jack extends a large hand. “Nice to meet you, Dakota.”

  11

  Johnny

  “You should see your face?” I bite back a laugh as Dakota stares slack-jawed at Jack moving across the bar to Dec and Lohan. “I so didn’t expect you to be starstruck.”

  “I…” Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she continues. “I was just caught off guard. Jesus, he’s a lot.” She shakes her head, making the long, red strands fall over one shoulder. She composes herself and hits me with a killer smile. “What are you doing here?”