Sinner (Shelter Harbor #1)

by Aubrey Irons

  “I’m her date,” he says without missing a beat “Who are you?”

  Jared’s face scrunches up in confusion as he sways on his feet, clearly drunk.

  “N- no,” he says, still looking confused. “No, I’m her date.”

  Landon turns and winks at me as I hide my grin in a sip of beer. He turns back to Jared.

  “No, I’m quite sure I am.”

  “Bullshit,” Jared spits out. “I matched with her, man. I picked her.”

  “She’s not a carnival prize, pal.”

  This time I do snort a laugh.

  Jared’s mouth scrunches up, making him look even more childish.

  “Look, fuck off okay? You’re totally cock-blocking me, dude.”

  Landon smiles. “I’m not sure I can take credit for that.”

  “This is my date, dick.”

  “Your date.”

  Jared nods.

  “And yet, you’re late and drunk.”

  “And at the wrong place,” I throw in.

  “And at the wrong- wait, seriously?” Landon turns to me, cocking a brow.

  I nod.

  He whistles lowly as he turns back to Jared, shaking his head.

  “That’s pretty bad, buddy,” he says with a wince on his face. “What’s your name, by the way?”

  “Jared,” he huffs.

  “Well, Jared my friend-”

  “I’m not your friend, bro.”

  Landon nods, ignoring him as he puts an arm over his shoulders.

  “You’re right, Jared, I’m not your friend.” He sighs. “But you know what I am?”

  Jared shakes his head.

  The smile drops from Landon’s face like a rock, and his eyes narrow.

  “What I am, is ready to drag you out of here by the neck of your fucking t-shirt if you don’t leave my date alone. Cool?”

  Jared stiffens, his eyes going wide as he looks up at Landon as if suddenly realizing how big the other man is.

  “Fine,” he finally mutters. “Fine, whatever, bro.” He turns back to me and suddenly flutters his fingers in front of my face.

  “Unmatched, bitch.” He walks backwards away from us, still waving his hands. “Unmatch-”

  He’s cut off when he backs right into three biker-looking guys playing pool, who immediately shove him towards the door.

  I’m almost crying with laughter as Landon turns back, shaking his head and knocking back the rest of his drink.

  “Fucking, Tinder.”

  He turns to me, a grin on his face as he shakes his empty glass.

  “We should probably we get another round.”

  I wipe a tear from my eyes as I look up and just lose myself in his.

  “Absolutely.”

  Present:

  He’s not grinning at me anymore. The smooth talk, that charming, lady-killer grin from that night back in Houston are gone.

  And of course, I know exactly why.

  Landon Reece – former linebacker for the Rattlesnakes, and before that, college MVP, broken records, the whole nine yards.

  Yeah, I might have looked him up since that night.

  Now he’s in management, heading the board of directors for the team his uncle, Sam Horn, owns. This team and this field are a kingdom, and the man glaring at me is the next in line for the throne.

  Well, or was, I suppose. Until I got added to the mix.

  That’s why he’s not smiling anymore. That’s why those sharp, green eyes are narrowed at me; that chiseled jaw clenched tight as the pen he holds in his hand.

  We hold each other’s gaze, like stone sentinels, like this is a blinking contest and we’re kids, and the prize is this team.

  This is silly.

  I didn’t ask for this. Hell, I didn’t even know Sam Horn as anything more than an industry name until ten minutes ago. And yet, here I am about to take over ownership of a major league football team from Denver, Colorado. Despite the fact that I live in Houston. Despite the fact that I already work for a major league team. And it’s certainly despite the fact that my team, the Bulls, are pretty much rivals with Denver.

  I blink first, looking away. Like I said, this is silly. This isn’t a contest.

  “I’m sorry about your uncle,” I say quietly, hoping it calms this storm between us.

  “He’s not actually my uncle.”

  I frown. “Oh, I didn’t realize.”

  “No, he’s - look it doesn’t matter.”

  Landon’s eyes narrow at me again.

  “Forgive me, Ms. Roth,” he says icily. “But I’m finding it hard to understand how it is I never knew about you when Sam seems to have such high regard for you.”

  “Oh, you never knew about me?” I say flatly. “Interesting.”

  “In relation to Sam,” he says thinly.

  My face sours as I fold my arms across my chest. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No,” I say crisply. I don’t need his attitude.

  “Do you even know Sam?”

  “Take a wild guess.”

  Landon’s mouth goes small as he shakes his head.

  “Robert, this is fucking ludicrous.”

  The attorney takes a deep breath. “Sam’s will is quite specific.”

  “Her?”

  “I’m standing right here.”

  “Believe, me, I noticed.”

  Asshole.

  He turns back to the lawyer.

  “Robert, this is lunacy.”

  “These are Sam’s wishes.”

  “His insane wishes.”

  Robert says nothing.

  “This can’t even be within league regulations. She works for a rival team.”

  Robert nods as he turns to me. “That will actually need to be cleared up immediately in order to move forward with this.”

  I frown. “I actually like my job.”

  “Tough,” Landon mutters.

  We lock eyes for another second, both of us clearly seething.

  After David, and the Facebook crap, and my failed attempt at phone app dating, he was the perfect escape and excuse with which to do it. Gorgeous, charming, just visiting from out of town.

  In short, completely unavailable for anything besides getting my clothes off, getting me in bed, and getting my mind off of shitty ex-fiancés and their shiny new “second chance” families.

  And yet, the whole point of a one-night thing is for it to be one night. The whole point of an escape like that was the ability to get a little wild, let go, and not worry about the consequences, because there are none. Because you’ll never see that charming, slightly arrogant, impossibly good looking man who works for your rival team ever again.

  So much for that idea.

  And he’s clearly thinking the same thing. Robert’s still rattling on about something to do with the specifics of the estate transfer, but it seems we’ve both basically tuned him out as we stand there staring at each other.

  Suddenly, Robert says something that seems to snap Landon’s attention back to him.

  “What?”

  Robert clears his throat. “I said, it’s a thirty-day probationary period, per Samuel’s wishes. In thirty days, your board will vote to either approve and move forward with the new ownership, or to liquidate and sell the team.”

  Landon swears, whirling and pushing a hand through his hair before balling it into a fist.

  “Wait, in thirty days, your organization is going to sell the team?” I shake my head. “The Rattlesnakes are one of the most popular, most profitable teams in the league, why on earth would the board sell out?”

  “Ah, well-”

  Landon whirls at the older man. “Robert.”

  The attorney gives him a look. “Landon, she’s signing an extremely comprehensive nondisclosure agreement.”

  Landon sighs before turning back to me. “The Rattlesnakes aren’t as financially solid as people think. There are more than a few shareholders who’d be more than happy to sell right now.�
��

  “Okay, so-”

  “So that’s not happening. Not under my watch.”

  He turns and paces towards the windows overlooking downtown Denver before he whirls back to me.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  “No,” I snap. “Happy?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “Yeah, well deal with it.”

  He holds my gaze, and we say nothing for a moment before I break.

  “Look, the answer is no, okay? No, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never owned a fucking football team before.”

  “No kidding.”

  I glare at him.

  “But I do know football.”

  “Good for you. But you don’t know Sam Horn.”

  I go silent.

  “No.”

  “And you live in Texas.”

  “Yep.”

  “And you work for another football team.”

  I chew on my lip and nod.

  “Who suck.”

  I glare at him. “Hey-”

  “They’re terrible, Serena.”

  Okay, he’s right. The Bulls are the bottom of the league. But I’ve got loyalties, and loyalty means a lot to me. My best friend London, and her father Archie Jacobs have basically been my family since my dad passed – before that really, from when my mom died young.

  Houston, the Bulls, the Jacobs family – that’s all I’ve ever known.

  Until this.

  “For the record, this makes about as much sense to me as it does you.”

  Landon smiles thinly. “Wonderful, we do agree on something.”

  Robert stands. “If we could all sit and go over some of the details-”

  “Look I’m not some lost little girl, you know,” I spit at Landon.

  He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you look right at home.”

  “Fuck you.” I shake my head as I turn and go for my bag.

  “You know what? Screw this, I’m out of here, I want nothing to do with any of this.”

  I have a job. I have a life back in Houston. And whatever this shit storm is that I’ve seemingly walked into, there’s no way it can be worth all this.

  “Ms. Roth!”

  I’ve started to turn for the door when Robert stops me.

  “Do you have any idea what a share in this team is worth?”

  “I’m not interest-”

  “One million dollars,” he says evenly. “A share.”

  I freeze. “What?”

  Landon swears and turns to the window again as Robert nods. “Each share in this football organization is currently valued at one million dollars. And you and Mr. Reece’s owner-control puts you at twenty-four and a half shares.”

  Holy shit-

  “Each,” Robert finishes.

  And that’s when the floor drops out.

  “Robert, can we have the room for a minute?”

  I’m still reeling as Landon’s voice cuts through the silence of the room. I look up to see his eyes glaring right into mine.

  Robert nods. “I’ll be in my office.”

  “Thanks.”

  The door to the conference room shuts with a click, and then I’m alone with him.

  “I assume this means you’ll be staying now.”

  I blink, nodding absently and trying to even process the number I’ve just heard.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Landon nods, his mouth tight across his jaw.

  “Look,” he mutters, pulling my eyes up to his. “This might be happening whether I want it to or not, but if you think for a second that what happened in Houston is going to color our work relationship in any-”

  I bark out a mirthless laugh “Oh please, get over yourself.” I roll my eyes as I shake my head at him.

  His face doesn’t flinch. “I’m quite serious.”

  “So am I.”

  Landon moves closer to me. I take a step back and find myself bumping into the conference table, and I swallow thickly as I drag my eyes back to his face.

  “You’re in over your head here, Ms. Roth.”

  “Well yours is inflated enough for the both of us, so looks like I’ll be just fine.”

  His eyes narrow at me. “Last chance.” His eyes hold mine. “Last chance to walk away from this.”

  It’s the utter arrogance that finally does it for me. Maybe it’s also a little of that competitive spirit I inherited from my dad - my inability to say no to a challenge. And it’s certainly has more than a little to do with the insane amount of money on the table with this whole thing.

  But mostly, it’s Landon Reece’s arrogance.

  No, I will not be walking away from this, because walking away means he wins. And I will not let a smug, cocky prick like Landon win.

  “Got a pen?” I say, my voice suddenly sweet, my face neutral.

  Landon raises a brow at me. “For?”

  I force a smile to my face.

  “Oh, I just have some papers to sign.”

  Our eyes lock for one more second before he whirls, strides for the door, and storms out of the room.

  But though I may be the last one standing in this conference room, I know it’s not a win. Worse, deep down, I know he’s absolutely right.

  I am over my head here - way over my head.

  I’m over my head with him, but there’s no turning back.

  Chapter Four

  Landon

  The ringing in my ears finally goes quiet as I slam the door to my car shut with a satisfying chunk sound.

  What the fuck just happened.

  I let the air out through my lips in a thin stream. My fingers push through my hair as I glare out the windshield at the front door to the offices of Standish, Lehman, and Harris. She’s in there right now with Robert Lehman and probably Standish and Harris too at this point, signing whatever they need her to sign. Just nodding away, and taking what’s mine with a damn smile on her face.

  That was a goddamn ambush.

  I crank on the engine, jam the manual transmission into drive, and peel out of the parking lot.

  This isn’t me. This version of me right now isn’t who I am or how I act. I don’t get mad, or emotional, or thrown off like this. Not in years at least. I’m collected, I’m cool, and I am always in charge of the situation.

  But I got blindsided in there.

  I can’t think straight. I have no idea what the hell just happened, and I have no idea what in God’s name she’s doing here.

  Serena Roth.

  The enemy.

  My mind flashes back to that night in Houston as I roar through the streets of Denver back to my office at the stadium. Houston, the night of my failed attempt at poaching London Jacobs - the head talent scout from the Bulls. It was supposed to be retaliation. What better way to punish the Bulls for stealing our star quarterback right before the start of the season than by stealing their head talent scout and negotiator - the very one who poached our player - out from under them?

  Except it didn’t pan out. London Jacobs said no to my offer, leaving me sitting at the fanciest damn restaurant in Houston sipping champagne by myself.

  The dive bar next door seemed much more appropriate after that - a place where I could loosen my tie and lose myself in a sea of neon anonymity.

  Until, of course, I saw her.

  And then there were rounds after rounds of drinks, the weirdest non-date of all time, and staying up all night with the semi-cold champagne up on the balcony of my hotel room.

  There was watching her face as she came, just as the sun came up.

  Except that was all another place and another time. That was four weeks ago. That was a one-night thing that was supposed to stay a one-night thing.

  That wasn’t supposed to show up at Sam Horn’s estate hearing today receiving half of this damn team.

  The storm clouds follow me through the stadium parking lot, out of the elevator, and down the hall to my office.

  “Oh, Mr. Reece!”

&n
bsp; Lydia, my secretary, jumps from her desk as I come storming down into the waiting room.

  “I’m so sorry, but she-” Lydia bristles, drawing up her full five-foot and half inch frame and scowling over the marbled rims of her cat-eye glasses.

  “She would not take no for an answer, Mr. Reece,” she huffs.

  Goddamnit.

  This day keeps getting better.

  “I can call security if you-”

  “Thanks, Lydia, I’ve got it.” I barely stop to flash a quick ‘help me’ look at my secretary before I swing open the door to my office and stride inside.

  “Hey, tiger.”

  I growl low in my throat as I let the door shut behind me.

  “What are you doing here, Ashley.”

  Ashley Kemp gives me a pouty look, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder as she slinks off the edge of my desk she’s been perched on. Her boots are tall, her skirt is short, and I know that shirt has more buttons than that.

  “Well that’s no way to say hello.”

  “Ash,” there’s a warning edge in my voice as I stay right where I am by the door and cross my arms over my chest. I am not in the mood for bullshit like this.

  “You never called last night,” she says coyly, bringing a finger up to her painted lips and letting her nail trace across them as she stalks towards me.

  I don’t do this. I don’t do dependency, and expectations. Those are relationship words, and I, Landon Reece, do not do relationships.

  This right here is a clear indication that things have officially gone too far with Ashley.

  “I was busy,” I say brusquely. My hand comes up to pinch the bridge of my nose. “Actually, I’m still busy,” I say, hoping she gets the hint and we can avoid the dramatics I’m all but positive are about to happen.

  “Awww, well it’s a good thing I’m here to get some of that tension out, hmm?” She purrs as she slinks towards me and puts a hand on my arm.

  Well, so much for hints.

  “I’m busy, Ash,” I say again, sharper this time as I push her hand away from me.

  Her mouth purses. Yeah, she’s getting it now.

  “Well you’re not very fun today.” That obnoxiously childish pout comes back to her face. “Are we still on for our Wednesday thing?”

  Our Wednesday thing.

  Yeah, alarm bells are ringing.