“How many weeks have you been seeing each other?” His dad released Meg’s hand and folded his arms.
Okay, with introductions over, Jax was ready to ditch his parents.
“You should come to our—” his mom started to say, but his dad cut her off.
“How many weeks?” his dad repeated.
Jax frowned. What was up with his dad?
“About three weeks,” Meg said.
His dad’s gaze shifted to Meg. “Since the day of his accident?” he said in a low voice.
What the hell? “Dad,” Jax said in a warning voice. Apparently his dad had read the police report and recognized her name.
His dad held up his hand, his gaze still on Meg. “You’re Meghan Bailey, the woman who nearly killed my son?”
His mom gasped. “No.”
“Listen, both of you,” Jax said, moving between his dad and Meg. “Meg is the woman who slammed on her brakes when I stepped in front of her car because I was fuming after learning about how much you’ve been donating to the Flyers.”
Thankfully, no one was close enough to overhear the Emerson family dispute, but Jax didn’t care if they were. He was sick of his dad’s control and manipulation.
His dad’s mouth opened, then shut. “You’re out of line, son.”
Jax took a step closer and lowered his voice. “No. You’re out of line. And whatever is going through your mind right now, just stop thinking it. Now.”
His dad blinked. “I need to speak with you as soon as possible. Privately.”
The man was unbelievable.
“Todd,” his mom said. “I’m sure Meghan is a lovely woman, and she didn’t mean Jax any harm.”
His dad didn’t blink, and neither did Jax.
From behind Jax, Meg said, “I’ve got to say goodbye to Nashelle, so I’ll, um, talk to you later.”
Jax didn’t turn, keeping his gaze on his dad. “Meghan, can you meet me by the locker room?”
“Okay.” Her voice sounded faint, but truthfully, he was glad that she was leaving the circus that was his parents.
He watched her climb up the stairs again, then he turned back to his dad. “Spill it. Now. You have thirty seconds.”
“Privately, I said.”
Jax folded his arms. “Now.”
His dad glanced about, then set his hands on his hips. “I’ve filed a lawsuit against Meghan Bailey. She’ll be getting papers served tomorrow. I’ve done extensive research on her as a person and her business. She’s not someone any son of mine should be involved with.”
Jax felt like he was watching a bad horror flick where the reality was so skewed, it wasn’t even close to reality. “Please tell me you’re joking.” He looked at his mom, but her eyes were wide with disbelief.
“I’m not joking,” his dad said. “She set you up. She’s after your money.”
If there was ever a time Jax had wanted to break his dad’s nose, this was it.
“Cancel the lawsuit,” Jax ground out. “And if you don’t, you’ll be hearing from my attorney.” He turned then and headed away from the man he couldn’t stand to look in the eyes any longer.
He felt like throwing up. How could his dad do this? If anything, Meg should be suing Jax for stepping in front of her car and causing damage. He slammed into the locker room, and everyone looked over at him. No one said a word. There had obviously been some celebrating going on, but now the locker room went dead silent.
Jax changed and showered and dressed without speaking to anyone. He needed to tell Meg about the lawsuit, even if it was stopped before any papers were served to her. But how was he going to tell her what his dad had done? Would she hate Jax too?
Jax still hadn’t come out of the locker room, and Meg was starting to get antsy. Every player had come out, and she’d felt more and more conspicuous as they noticed her. A couple of them said hi—like Lucas. Nate merely lifted his brows as he passed. No words were exchanged.
Maybe Jax had gone another way? Maybe he was still talking to his dad?
Whatever it was, Meg knew that it couldn’t be good. Her stomach was in knots since meeting his parents. Only seeing Jax and knowing he was good and that they were still dating would ease her heavy heart.
Yeah, she had known his parents would find out at some point that she was the one involved in the accident. But the fact that his dad knew her name was kind of odd. But he seemed to be an observant guy, so maybe that was why? She honestly didn’t know.
Another player exited the locker room. No, it was the head coach. Lindon. He glanced at Meg as he passed, gave a nod, then continued on his way.
So even the coach had left. Where was Jax?
She checked her cell. It had been a full forty minutes, and still no Jax. Maybe she should just go home.
Nashelle was likely at her place by now, and it wasn’t like Meg could call her grandma to come pick her up. No matter; she opened the Lyft app on her phone. The prices were at a premium right now because of the hockey game. She selected her location and was about to book a ride when footsteps sounded. She looked up to see Jax come out of the locker room.
He was dressed up more than usual, wearing a navy blazer over a white button-down shirt open at the collar. His jeans looked expensive, and his shoes were polished dark-brown loafers.
Meg straightened from where she’d been leaning against the wall. She suddenly felt underdressed, wearing the hockey jersey she’d bought on a whim right before the game. Jax’s gray eyes scanned her, then met her eyes. She couldn’t read his expression. He’d just won a huge game, then got into an argument with his dad over her, and now . . . he was dressed up for what?
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, stopping in front of her. In one hand, he carried a large duffle. “I had to make some calls.”
She nodded, because her throat felt too tight to speak. Phone calls having to do with what? Not that it was any of her business, but obviously he didn’t want her overhearing.
“What’s that on your phone?” he asked.
She looked down at the app she’d opened. “Oh, I wasn’t sure how long you’d be, so I was going to order a Lyft.” She looked up at him, trying to read him, trying to figure out what she should be saying or doing.
“Cancel it.”
“I haven’t scheduled it yet,” she said, slipping her phone into her purse. He was still staring at her, rather intently. “Is . . . everything okay?”
“There’re some things we need to talk about,” he said.
Meg’s stomach plummeted. So things with his dad had gone awry, over her, and now Jax was going to let her down easy. Her eyes stung, and her throat felt raw. But she wouldn’t cry, not with Jax watching her.
“Okay,” she said in as light a tone as possible, but it came out as more of a squeak.
“But first we need to go meet my agent.”
“We?”
“Yeah, I’d like you to come, if that’s all right?”
Meg’s mind whirled. What did all this mean? Was he going to break things off with her or not? Why would he want her in a meeting with her agent? And . . . he was waiting for her to answer. “Um, okay. Although I feel really underdressed now.”
The edge of his mouth lifted as his gaze dipped, then met her eyes again. “You look fine. I like you wearing my number.”
She let out a breath. This was good, right? The butterflies in her stomach thought so.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand.
Her heart leapt at the touch of his skin against hers and at how his fingers linked into an easy grasp. She was still dying to know what he wanted to talk about, but for now, she was happy with his affection. Because she was pretty sure he wouldn’t hold her hand if he planned on breaking things off.
He was quiet as they walked out of the arena to the parking lot, and Meg was okay with that. The tension in her stomach had eased, and Jax was holding her hand.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they neared his truck.
“Clint’s hotel,” Jax said. “He and Marcus are meeting us in the hotel restaurant.”
Meg turned to face him as he unlocked the passenger door for her. “I really don’t want to be in the way. I mean, I’m sort of the odd woman out.”
“You’re with me,” Jax said. “There’s nothing more to discuss.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.” He set his duffle bag in the back seat, then moved closer to her, his gaze intent on her. “What are you worried about, Meghan?”
She looked away from his intense gaze. “I’m being paranoid, I guess. I mean, you introduced me to your parents, and look how that turned out. Meeting your agent feels really personal.”
Jax’s jaw clenched, and he put a hand on the truck next to her, bringing their bodies in closer proximity. “We’ll talk about my parents later. But for now, I don’t want you to think twice about them. Trust me on this, okay?”
She nodded.
“Good.” He lifted his hand and brushed his fingers along her neck. “When I saw you show up in my jersey tonight, I was a happy man.” His fingers traced the collar of the jersey, then rested on her shoulder.
“You’re easy to please, then,” she whispered, placing a hand on his chest.
His gaze remained intense. “I think it’s just you.”
Meg rose up on her toes and curled her fingers around the lapels of his blazer. His gaze darkened just before she pressed her mouth against his. Jax groaned and pulled her close, deepening the kiss. Meg’s heart pounded both with relief and the slow intensity of Jax’s kissing.
This man had somehow worked his way into her heart and psyche. A passing car’s headlights flashing against them made Meg aware of how very public this kiss was.
She drew away, even though Jax didn’t relinquish his hold.
“Keep kissing me like that, and you’re not going home tonight.”
Meg’s entire body flushed hot. “I just missed you, I guess.”
His brow lifted. “When?”
Had she confessed too much? “Whenever I’m not with you.” There, if that wasn’t plain speaking, she didn’t know what was.
Jax leaned down and kissed her ever so lightly. “I miss you too.”
She smiled, her heart soaring.
Another car passed, and Jax said, “We should go, even though the last thing I want is to be around other people right now.”
The drive to the hotel wasn’t far, and Jax left the truck in the hands of the valet. Then he led Meg inside. Her nerves buzzed in anticipation. She’d never felt more like part of a couple than she did now with Jax, and a sense of surrealness filled her.
Heads turned as they walked through the lobby. Jax would make an impressive figure even if he weren’t beloved by all of Chicago. And he was with her, holding her hand, telling her things like he missed her and he wanted her to be part of his meeting with his agent.
Three men sat at a table near the window of the restaurant. When they all three stood, Meg had no trouble picking out Clint, and next to him stood a guy with a thick beard who looked like he could be Clint’s brother.
The third man must be Marcus, the agent. He was shorter, with brown hair, fashionably spikey. He wore a nice suit, though no tie.
“Jax Emerson,” Marcus said. “Nice to meet you at last.”
The two men clasped hands.
“Thanks for waiting,” Jax said. “This is Meghan Bailey.”
“Hello,” Marcus said, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Meghan.”
She smiled, hoping that she didn’t look as nervous as she felt.
“And this is Clint,” Jax continued the introductions, “and his brother, Grizz.”
The bearded guy grinned. “That’s me.”
Clearly that was a nickname, right? She remembered Jax telling her that Clint’s brother was a pro baseball player, repped by Marcus as well. The two brothers gave Jax a bro hug and shook hands with Meg. Wow. She was way out of her element here. Every person in the restaurant was taking surreptitious glances at their group. Meg didn’t blame them. She could hardly believe she was with this group of guys herself.
They all sat down again, and Jax indicated for her to sit by Marcus, which put her between Jax and Marcus. Making her more a part of the conversation and not on the fringes of it like she expected. She had nothing to contribute, after all.
Jax draped his arm across the back of her chair, not touching her but making it clear that they were together.
Clint just smiled at the two of them, and Grizz sat back, browsing the menu.
“You guys didn’t have to wait to order,” Jax said.
“We weren’t waiting for you,” Clint said. “Grizz here is taking forever to decide.”
Grizz chuckled. “I’m almost there. Three more minutes tops.”
Clint shook his head with a laugh.
“Perfect. That’s all the time we’ll need too,” Jax said, sliding a menu between him and Meg and opening it. “What sounds good?” he said more quietly, just to Meg.
She seriously doubted she’d be able to eat a thing surrounded by these guys. But everyone seemed focused on her now. Okay . . . She scanned the salads and pastas and steak and seafood options. “Um, the Chinese chicken salad looks good.”
“That’s what I thought,” Grizz said. “I’m getting that too.”
Was he joking? Meg was going to be a blushing mess.
“With a top sirloin on the side,” Grizz added.
Jax chuckled. “Thought so. I’m going to get the top sirloin too.”
It seemed the waiter had keen hearing, because he suddenly appeared at the table. “Ready, folks?”
Everyone put in their orders, and Meg slowly started to relax. They were all normal men when all was said and done, right? And she knew Jax, so that should make her feel comfortable.
“So we’ve all been doing some brainstorming while waiting for you to get here,” Marcus began.
“Should I be worried?” Jax rumbled.
The guys laughed, and Meg smiled.
“Your stats are through the roof,” Marcus continued. “You’re gonna have your pick once we announce you’re up for trade.”
“Are there issues with my contract? Did you already look into that?”
“I did. Scott sent everything over, and I was able to review your contract before tonight’s game. The opt-out clauses started two years ago.” Marcus picked up his water glass and took a sip. “We’ll have to go through protocol stuff, but I’ll take care of all that.”
Jax nodded. His fingers brushed against Meg’s shoulder absently.
Marcus took another drink of his water. Meg wondered if the man was nervous. He seemed pretty calm and collected, but he was drinking a lot of water.
“There’s another option,” Marcus said, his tone sounding unsure.
“What’s that?”
Marcus glanced at Clint and Grizz before answering. “It was suggested by Clint, actually.”
Jax’s fingers stopped moving on Meg’s shoulder. “Spill it.”
“Well,” Marcus said, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward, “we can renegotiate your Flyers contract.”
The tenseness coming from Jax was palpable. “That’s not at all why I hired you, Marcus—”
“Think about it, Jax,” Clint cut in. “The negotiation can stipulate that your paycheck is not predicated on donations or sponsors.”
Jax didn’t say anything for a moment. “Can that be mandated?”
“We can write anything into the contract we want, and if they sign off on it, then it’s a done deal.” Marcus tapped the table. “Think of it this way. You’re the face of the Chicago Flyers right now. The last two games have been sold out completely. This hasn’t happened for years. Hockey is resurging throughout the city. That kids’ hockey camp you guys did? Brilliant.”
Jax nodded, but his tone didn’t sound convinced. “You know how personal my reasons are. I’ve put in plenty of time to the Flyers, eight ye
ars to be exact.”
“Career’s just getting started,” Grizz deadpanned.
Jax scoffed but made no retort.
Marcus reached into a computer bag set by his chair. He pulled out a file, then opened it. “Here are the fundraising numbers from the youth hockey camp.” Turning the sheet so that Jax could read it, Meg caught a glimpse of the final number.
“Wow,” Jax said. “Over a million for a one-day event?”
“This is everything, from the camp to the spectator fees, to the silent action going on in the lobby, and finally, direct donations that came in.”
Jax didn’t speak for a moment, and Clint jumped in. “That’s a real boost to the Northbrook club. Where are you going with this, Marcus?”
“Well.” Marcus leaned back in his chair. “I’ll tell you where this is going. The manager, Mr. White, took my call earlier today. Said that they’re starting weekend training clinics. They’ve got over two hundred kids registered already, from ages twelve and up. They’re even considering putting together a few girl-specific clinics. Come the next club season, they’ll have enough teams and competition with neighboring cities and states to make girls’ hockey viable in Chicago.”
Jax picked up the fundraising report. “These numbers are separate from the fundraiser gala that Bree Stone spearheaded last month, right?”
“Right,” Marcus confirmed. “The youth hockey camp fundraiser goes exclusively toward the kids themselves. Scholarships, equipment, training, hiring coaching staff . . . the whole works. With you and other former Northbrook athletes putting your face to this, the money will continue coming in.”
“How do we continue putting our face to this?” Jax asked.
“More hockey camps, more fundraisers. We can get creative, especially in the off-season. Bree Stone sent me over a list of suggestions.” Marcus filed the papers away as two waiters approached, carrying trays loaded with food.
“I can still help with the hockey camp living somewhere else,” Jax said. “All my other former teammates are doing that.”
“Right,” Marcus said. “But having one of the players in Chicago would make a difference.”
“Here you are, sir.” The waiter broke into the conversation and set down two plates in front of Grizz.
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