The Devil Wears Blue Jeans (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 1)

by Mary J. Williams

  The men Darcy worked for weren’t inclined to give her as much as her male counterpart and she had little leverage where salary negotiations were concerned. Resigned, but determined that someday her financial position would change along with the power she wielded, she persevered. As a result, she skimped but rarely saved.

  Finally, times had changed. Not only did Darcy’s new job as the Seattle Knights’ general manager mean she answered to no one—save the team owner—financially, she could finally breathe easy.

  Moving from city to city, job to job as she worked her way up the football universe ladder, she hadn’t the time nor interest to worry about things like cedar-lined walk-in closets or a bathroom with the kind of multi-headed tiled shower she assumed only existed in dreams—or five-star hotels. In her case, one was the same as the other. Unattainable. Until now.

  Darcy closed her eyes and for the first time in forever, allowed herself a moment to relax. In the next year, she would earn more than the last twenty combined. And say what you want that money can’t buy happiness, she figured the author of the phrase never worried about paying the bills.

  All the sacrifices, the going without, the barely scraping by were in the past. If Darcy weren’t afraid that once she started, she might not know how to stop, she would have wept with joyful relief.

  “Hey, what’s the hold-up?” a voice called from the living room. “If you don’t hurry up, I’ll be on my second drink before you start your first.”

  Darcy ignored the pile of suitcases and sealed cardboard boxes that filled one corner. Unpacking could wait. She had time. What she needed now was a large glass of whiskey, a humungous pepperoni pizza—slathered in sliced black olives—and a sympathetic ear to listen to the self-indulgent rant she knew was bound to pour out at some point in the hours ahead.

  Her satisfied smile turned into an outright grin as Darcy spied Miranda Winslow curled up in the corner of an overstuffed blue sofa that was positioned to appreciate the view of Lake Washington through the bank of floor to ceiling windows that dominated one wall of the cottage.

  “I told you not to wait,” Darcy said.

  “Me? Wait?” Piper snorted as she lifted her glass of vodka for another sip. “When have I ever been shy about consuming free alcohol?”

  Darcy chuckled. Lord, she loved living in the same city as her best friend. Though they’d kept in touch since high school, different colleges, then their jobs, meant meeting face to face time came at a premium.

  Three years ago, Piper moved to Seattle and opened an accounting firm—her name front and center. Now that Darcy worked for the Knights, they had picked up right where they left off. Hanging out, talking for hours about nothing and everything.

  Her dream job and her best friend only a few miles away? Could life get any sweeter?

  “You turn down a free drink? Never.” Darcy chuckled. “Give me a minute to catch up.”

  Collapsing onto her end of the sofa, Darcy took the glass Piper handed her. Though the women were alike in many ways, they diverged in their choice of liquor. Piper went for vodka, icy cold. Thanks to one of the many men who passed through her mother’s life, Darcy preferred whiskey. The smokier and more complex, the better.

  Darcy let the aged bourbon rest on her tongue before swallowing. Heat coated her throat—welcome and familiar—before settling in the pit of her empty stomach. Enjoying the burn, she emptied the glass in one swig.

  “Careful, slugger,” Piper warned when Darcy reached for the nearby bottle. “At least wait until the food arrives. The last thing you need is to get shit-faced the night before you officially start your new job. Haggard and hungover is not a good look on anyone.”

  “Haggard? The skin I treat morning and night like a goddess wouldn’t dare betray me.” Darcy scoffed but settled for a prudent splash of the amber liquid. “As for a hangover? What’s that?”

  “Ah, youth,” Piper said with a hefty sigh. “When your body is forgiving, and your mind easily forgets prior transgressions.”

  “Meaning?” Darcy asked.

  “In your twenties, you could drink everyone under the table and wake up the next morning fresh as a daisy, do your job, workout, maybe go on a date the next night. Easy peasy.” Piper’s lips lifted into a wry smile. “Pushing forty is different. Your metabolism has slowed and—”

  “Forty?” Darcy sputtered. “We’re thirty-six. Hardly ready for the scrapheap.”

  “Pushing forty,” Piper said with a shrug. “Numbers are my life and I can do the math with both hands tied behind my back. I love my thirties. When the big four-oh hits, I’ll embrace the next decade of my life with open arms.”

  “And, as always, you’ll be fabulous,” Darcy said.

  One of the many things she loved about Piper was her friend’s ability to embrace whatever life brought her way and come out the other side standing tall with a smile on her face. Amazing quality considering the example she had during her formative years.

  Darcy shook her head. Neither of them had ideal childhoods. However, she never questioned her mother’s love. For all her mistakes where men were concerned, Marion Stratham was her daughter’s biggest supporter. No one cheered harder or louder the day Darcy found out she was the new Seattle Knights’ general manager. Unfortunately, Piper couldn’t say the same about her mother. Harpy bitch didn’t begin to describe the woman.

  “I am fabulous,” Piper said with the kind of self-confidence she rarely had to fake. “Are you nervous?” Piper asked.

  “About the new job?” When Piper nodded, Darcy waited for a beat before answering. “A little. I’m qualified. Passionate about the game. Lord knows I paid my dues.”

  “Amen, sister,” Piper said.

  “I’ve worked so hard.” Thoughtfully, she sipped her drink. “When I received the news, I was over the moon.”

  “Who wouldn’t be? Dream jobs are hard to come by,” Piper pointed out. “A woman general manager in the NFL? Hell, in any professional sport. You’re a freaking trailblazer. Says so right there on Sports Illustrated.”

  Darcy glanced at the cover she’d framed and displayed on the bookshelf. Many considered her accomplishment to be an anomaly. Most expected her to fail. She was smart enough to know that she might. Building a winning team was hard enough when the football world was on your side. But one thing was certain. If Darcy went down, she would go swinging for the fences.

  “Super Bowl or bust.”

  “Not this year,” Piper said.

  “Why not?” Darcy asked with a shrug.

  “Winning a championship is your five-year plan.” Piper raised an eyebrow. “Football isn’t my area of expertise. However, I know a few people who know the game from the foundation up. The Knights aren’t Super Bowl material, are they?”

  “Not at the moment.” Again, Darcy shrugged. “Pieces are missing. But I have a plan.”

  “Don’t you always?” Piper grinned. She didn’t ask for details. “I told Levi not to worry. With you at the helm, the Knights are in good hands.”

  Darcy’s senses perked up at the mention of Levi Reynolds. The backup quarterback for the Knights for the past three seasons, he might not have the clout of a starter, he was a veteran presence in the locker room, well-respected by his teammates.

  “You and Levi are friends.”

  “Without benefits,” Piper said with a laugh.

  “I know. Proof that a man and woman can have a close relationship without sex getting in the way.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “Ever heard the phrase, the lady doth protest too much?”

  “Nothing to protest about,” Piper explained with a flip of her long, red ponytail. “When Levi looks at me, he sees a pal. A buddy. I feel the same.”

  Darcy had her doubts. She’d seen the way Levi looked at Piper when he thought no one noticed. Like a man who wanted a lot more than a friendly hug to end the evening.

  Not her business, Darcy reminded herself. If Piper and Levi were satisfied with t
he status quo of their relationship who was she to rock their boat? Besides, she had more important matters on her mind.

  “What did Levi say?” Darcy asked. “Are the players worried about having a woman in charge? So far, everyone’s been cordial. Then again, they aren’t likely to tell me to eat shit and die, bitch. Not to my face.”

  “Yikes.” Piper’s hazel eyes lit up with concern. “You went dark awfully fast.”

  Darcy knew she could tell Piper anything including the fact that recently, dark didn’t begin to describe some of the things she’d heard and read about herself. But tonight, she didn’t feel like dwelling on the negative jerks who refused to move their thinking about women and their place in society out of the dark ages.

  “Has Levi said anything to you about the mood of the other players?”

  “There was some grumbling when word came down about you.” Piper patted Darcy’s arm. “A little, not a lot. Mostly, they’re taking a wait and see attitude.”

  “Wait and see, I can live with.” Darcy’s gaze narrowed as the image of Joshua McClain popped into her head. “I get the feeling the new head coach isn’t inclined to be so generous.”

  Knowing her part—as any best friend did—Piper was ready to eviscerate anyone who badmouthed Darcy.

  “What did McClain say?” Piper asked, one fist clenching.

  “More attitude than words.” Darcy tried to be objective when she remembered the encounter. She wasn’t sure she succeeded. “He has a jock mentality. He played the game. He was an elite football player. He’s a winner. He, he, he. A lifetime member of an exclusive boys club—no girls allowed.”

  “You aren’t a girl. You’re a woman,” Piper pointed out.

  “Exactly.” A glint of honed steel entered Darcy’s gaze. “What Mr. Joshua McClain has yet to learn is that we aren’t on the field and the rules aren’t the same.”

  “The man’s a no-talent, smirky hack,” Piper said.

  “Smirky.” Darcy closed her eyes and sighed. “I like the word. Fits McClain to a T.”

  “If Mr. Smirky Pants doesn’t treat you right, I’ll personally toilet paper his house. And egg his front door. And shove a potato up the exhaust pipe of his car for good measure.”

  Listening to Piper’s childish plans for revenge, the tension seeped from Darcy’s shoulders. Lord, she was grateful for her friends. A select few women who understood like no one else could the daily travails of maneuvering through the business world.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. That I’m here. Both of us, in Seattle. Spilling my guts over the phone is nice; in person is better.” Darcy clinked her glass to Piper’s “Alcohol and you. The combination is damn near perfection.”

  “Agreed,” Piper said as she flipped open the extra copy of Sports Illustrated Darcy had on the coffee table. She landed on the side story about new head coach Joshua McClain. “He’s handsome. Kind of sexy.”

  Darcy arched a brow.

  “Irrelevant, I know.” Piper shrugged. “Just saying, if you add up all the potbellied, saggy-jowled, butt pinching douchebags you’ve worked with over the past twenty years, you’ve earned a bit of eye candy.”

  No one would argue the point that Joshua McClain was easy to look at. Darcy sighed. And more than kind of sexy. He a freaking aphrodisiac on a stick. And, damn, the man smelled good.

  Darcy gave herself a mental shake. As Piper pointed out, those attributes were irrelevant. Well, the fact that he smelled good mattered. She once shared an office with a man who gave off the odor of stale gym socks and liberally applied Aqua Velva. Just the memory made her shudder.

  “Long as he’s a good head coach and doesn’t make my life a living hell, McClain’s pretty face could look like a smashed tomato and I wouldn’t care a fig.”

  “You trust Riley’s judgment,” Piper said.

  “Where business is concerned, Riley is as pragmatic as they come. Her devotion to the Knights is another level of awesomeness. We bonded in college over our mutual love of football.” Darcy smiled at the memory of how Riley used to do her best to blend into the woodwork. “She was such a mousey little geek. Brought out my protective instinct.”

  “Riley Preston? Mousey?” Piper looked unconvinced. “Are we talking about the same woman? Gorgeous? Personality plus? Wicked sense of humor? With more money than God?”

  “Wealth can’t buy self-confidence,” Darcy said. “Riley needed to leave Seattle to grow up and come into her own. When she came back, she was a different woman.”

  “She’s a billionaire, right?” Piper whispered the words with an awed expression.

  “Mm. I suppose.

  Darcy didn’t mean to sound blasé. Truth was, she didn’t think a lot about Riley Preston’s fortune. When they met, both young women were struggling to find their footholds in college and the world. Through football, they found common ground and the loyalty that grew over the years ran deep.

  The need to prove to Riley she hadn’t made a mistake was another reason Darcy couldn’t fail in her new job. The faith needed to hire her, to endure the criticism and scorn, was something precious and rare. There was no way she would let her boss, her friend, down.

  “Riley believes Joshua McClain is the right person for the job as Knights’ head coach,” Piper pointed out. “Shouldn’t you?”

  Darcy knew Piper was right. She understood her problem with Joshua McClain had more to do with her history than anything he’d done. Yet, he annoyed her and for reasons she couldn’t articulate, she wasn’t in the mood to let the feeling go. Unaware, her lips formed a pout.

  “Of course, I trust Riley,” she grumbled. “I’m living in her guest house, aren’t I.”

  “Which means she trusts you, not the other way around,” Piper reminded her.

  “Stop with the logic,” Darcy said.

  “You plan to stick your lower lip out like a five-year-old every time Mr. Smirky Pants walks into the room?”

  “Hey!” Darcy protested, but she sucked in her lip.

  “No need to give McClain an easy target.” Unrepentant, hazel eyes sparkling with good humor, Piper merely shrugged. “I doubt he’d smack the pout from your mouth, but a kiss is a different matter.”

  Knowing Piper’s warped sense of humor, Darcy didn’t take offense. Instead, she rolled her eyes.

  “You need to stop reading so many romance novels. They’ve warped your brain.”

  “The books relax me,” Piper said. “Besides, if McClain was foolish enough to try a kiss, you’d knock him flat on his ass.”

  “I would,” Darcy agreed. “If the kiss weren’t consensual.”

  Darcy’s eyes widened in shock, appalled she could think such a thing let alone say the words aloud. She hoped Piper would let the slip pass. When she saw her friend’s grin, she knew the chances were slim to none.

  “Do you want Mr. Smirky Pants to kiss you?”

  “No. Of course not. Absolutely, positively, nada.” Darcy sighed as Piper’s smile grew wider.

  “But the thought has crossed your mind.” Piper glanced again at the picture of Joshua McClain. “He has a stellar mouth. Pillowy lips.”

  “Maybe you should kiss him,” Darcy taunted.

  “Maybe I should.” Piper considered the idea. She sighed. “Been a while—too long. Joshua McClain looks like a man who knows how to do the job properly.”

  “Enough.” Darcy shook her head to clear the image Piper drew with graphic accuracy. Pillowy lips, indeed. Sheesh. “Remember, I have to meet with the man tomorrow morning.”

  “Sorry.” Piper sobered. “Honestly. I know how important a good working relationship is between you and Mr. Smirky Pants.”

  “And drop the nickname.” Darcy sighed. “Accurate though the title may be, the last thing I need is to call him smirky to his face. At least not on the first day.”

  “What are you going to call him?” Piper asked. “Mac?”

  “A name reserved for his friends, so no.” Darcy
reminded herself to at least try and keep an open mind. “Maybe one day. Tomorrow, I’ll play the name game by ear.”

  “That’s my Darcy.” Piper winked.

  “Riley and I have known each other since college,” Darcy continued. “She’s devoted to the team. Probably the best owner in football. Not to mention the smartest person I know. Present company excepted.”

  “Thank you,” Piper said with a laugh. “McClain might surprise you and turn out to be an ally and an asset.”

  “I know Riley wouldn’t hire McClain if she didn’t believe he was the best fit.”

  “No doubt.” Piper nodded. “I hear a but coming.”

  Experience had taught Darcy some hard lessons. Men—mostly—did not think women belonged in sports beyond waving their pompoms. Tomorrow she would begin to discover if Joshua McClain was one of the many or among the few who could look past her breasts and appreciate her keen football mind.

  “I prefer to go in knowing my enemy.” Darcy tipped her glass, letting the last drop of whiskey fall onto her tongue. “Right now, McClain is an enigma I haven’t figured out.”

  “He’s a man,” Piper reasoned with a toss of her dark red hair. “How complicated can he be?”

  Darcy snorted. One of the reasons she and Piper continued to be friends long after childhood was the dose of healthy cynicism shared. No rose-colored glasses allowed.

  “Even the simplest soul is complicated in his own way,” Darcy said.

  “From what I’ve read, Joshua McClain is not a simple man.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Darcy said with a sigh as Piper reached for the bottle of vodka. She shook her head when her friend nodded toward the whiskey. “As you said, I need a clear head. Whoever McClain turns out to be, I must stay on my toes. I will not give the man a single advantage to use against me.”

  The knock on the door brought Darcy to her feet.

  “Pizza’s here.”

  “Perfect timing,” Piper said. “I need food.”

  “You need to switch to water,” Darcy pointed out as she grabbed her purse and took enough money from her wallet to include a sizable tip.

  “Party pooper,” Piper groused as she moved to the kitchen and dutifully took two bottles of water from the refrigerator.