Free Winning Streak by Katie Kenyhercz

her ego, but not this time. This was so much better. When Madden said it, he didn’t just mean he thought she was pretty. She wasn’t blind. The man did his share of checking her out. But he also listened. He cared. And that meant more than all of the starry-eyed lemmings she’d accrued over the years. “I should know better, but I like you, too.”
    Now his grin was back to full strength, dimples and all. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
    “You know, I believe that.”
    Playful shock filled his eyes and dropped his mouth open.
    She laughed and snapped him with the tank top as if it were a locker room towel before putting it back in her bag. “I’m guessing you’ll be in meetings tomorrow and early Wednesday morning right up until trades are announced. I’m going to dance practice at seven that night, but it wraps up by eight. I could meet you for a drink after. The Artisan Lounge is reporter-free, kind of out of the way, and not usually crowded. Low lighting. What do you say?”
    “I say you had me at reporter-free.”

Chapter Eleven
    Tuesday, March 4th
    Madden leaned his head back and un-clicked his seatbelt as the garage door closed behind him. Fourteen hours at the office and they’d made five deals. Not that he had a lot to do with it. He sat there for decoration while Carter did most of the talking on conference calls. It went beyond a pride thing. It felt genuinely awful when the people who meant the most in the world to you didn’t think you could do your job. Still, doing anything for fourteen hours was exhausting, even being an ineffective statue.
    Sleeping in the car sounded like a viable option. It would save time in the morning when he had to be back at zero dark thirty to stand around like a placeholder. He’d thought hard about asking to share Saralynn’s sleeping bag, but even she cut out around six. Plus, it wouldn’t help popular opinion about him to be caught office-camping with the head of PR.
    The door leading into the house opened, and Cole stood there, backlit by the chandelier in the hallway. Having a roommate wasn’t always convenient, but the kid meant well. And it was probably better than sulking in the dark mansion alone like Batman, one superhero he no longer wanted to emulate. Batman might always get the girl, but he always lost her, too.
Hopefully, those days are behind me.
    He slid out of the car and bumped shoulders with Cole on the way inside. “Hey, Robin.”
    “Huh?”
    “Nothin’. You want pizza?”
    “Ahead of you. It’s on the kitchen counter.”
    “Boy Wonder, you earn your keep.”
    “Oh, now I get it. Hey, why am I the sidekick?” Cole trailed him into the kitchen and took one of the stools at the island counter.
    Madden sat on another and plucked a piece of pepperoni pizza from the open box. “Because you look better in tights.”
    “Fuck off.” He laughed. “So what’s the word? Who’s staying, who’s going? I know I’m not, but I’m curious.”
    Madden took a big bite, eating half of it in one mouthful, and wiped the grease on his chin with the back of his hand. “You’re
never
leaving as far as management’s concerned. We’ll trade every last player for schmoes who will take a salary cut if it means giving the rest to you.”
    Cole shook his head. “You know that’s not me. I like playing in Vegas. I was drafted here, and I’ve already won two Cups. I’m not going anywhere.”
    “If you put that in writing, my sister will name her firstborn after you.”
    “Yeah, right. Come on. Who got the ax?”
    Madden picked another piece of pizza, bit off the end, and sighed. “Scotty.”
    “Shit, are you serious?”
    He nodded. That one hadn’t been easy. Scotty had a few pretty good seasons, and a couple teams had been interested in him. “He’s going to Tampa.”
    “So who’d we get?”
    “Filipelli.”
    “Jesus, that’s incredible. I mean, I love Scotty, but Filly’s a legend. Why don’t you look like you