Fair Play (Hat Trick, Book 1) by Samantha Wayland Page A

questions that
proved she’d long-since dispelled any doubts about her acumen for the business.
She had them hooked and was slowly reeling them in.
    Arguing with Lamont had been exhilarating and Garrick could
see the same thrill in the flush on Savannah’s cheeks, the light of
determination in her eyes. He knew what he and Savannah argued made sense. These
were sound options. Maybe he didn’t have the business-side experience, but he’d
watched the business of hockey for a long time and done his homework. Read the
articles, the analysis, watched which teams flourished and which failed. He’d
always been curious why and tried to find the answers.
    He could only hope Reese Lamont would listen to what he’d
learned.
    Savannah was winding down her arguments, having now fully
detailed the weaknesses of their key rivals—and damned if Garrick didn’t feel
stupid for not seeing so much of this before now—when she turned back to her
audience and paused.
    Rupert immediately went to her side. “That was fantastic!”
    She smiled.
    “It certainly is a lot to consider,” Reese allowed,
thoughtful.
    She shot Garrick a nervous glance.
    “Are you thirsty?” Rupert asked.
    She put a hand to her throat. “Yes. I left my beer on the
bar.”
    “It’s gone warm by now. I’ll get you a fresh one.” Rupert strode
to the bar with Reese close behind.
    The minute their backs were turned, Garrick threw his arms
around Savannah and lifted her into a great big bear hug. He didn’t even care
if she felt the steel bar in his pants.
    He let go and she stumbled back, blinking.
    He just grinned and jammed a hand in his pocket to hide the
evidence of just how fond he was of her at this moment.
    Reese called from behind the bar. “What are you having,
Savannah?”
    She looked at him blankly.
    “What do you want to drink?” Garrick prompted softly, trying
not to chuckle at her bemusement.
    “Oh. I uh…I love Moosehead.”
    Garrick looked at the ceiling, schooling his features, but a
snort still escaped.
    “What?” she asked.
    Reese’s groan carried from behind the bar. Rupert rolled his
eyes as he delivered the beer.
    “What?” she asked again.
    Garrick sighed, resigned, and smiled down at her. “How can you
tell that someone loves Moosehead?”
    She looked at him, adorably confused. “How?”
    “Antler marks on their thighs.”
     
    Garrick held Savannah’s jacket for her. She didn’t bother to
protest the chivalry. Sliding her arms into the sleeves, she looked around the
Lamont foyer one more time before she turned back to Garrick and buttoned up.
     “Really? Moose head?” She shook her head.
     “It’s a rite of passage,” Garrick said. “Every New
Brunswicker has to tell someone that joke at least ten times in his life or his
citizenship is revoked.”
    She chuckled. “Oh really? I’ll have to bear that in mind as
the single most compelling reason I’ve heard to date for not applying
for citizenship.”
    Garrick was still grinning when Rupert and Reese arrived to
say goodnight. They all shook hands. She genuinely hoped to see them again—and
not at the official sale or dismantling of the Ice Cats.
    “Will you think about what we said?” Garrick asked, his hand
still clasping Reese’s.
    Reese nodded. “I will. Though, to be fair, I should tell you
that if a reasonable offer comes in, I’m going to take it.”
    Hope and frustration were a familiar mix of emotions tonight.
He wasn’t talking about shutting them down, at least, but Savannah wanted more.
A renewed commitment from Reese. A new owner would bring a host of unknowns, though
at least it would mean jobs for them and a lot of other people for a while
longer.
    “Thanks,” Garrick said.
    “Yes, thank you,” she added. “For listening. And for a
lovely night. I hope we see you again soon.”
    Reese’s warm smile slipped, his brow drawing down. Her heart
ached at his obvious confusion, and only then did she remember that this man
reportedly never