by Cindi Madsen
The washed-up part was a bit too accurate until now, but he was in the process of changing that.
“Just one question,” Simms said as Lance went to step around him, clearly as bad at listening now as he’d been a few years ago. “Charlotte James works for you?”
Lance blew out a careful, measured breath. He wanted to tell him not to approach her without his say-so, but then the guy would undoubtedly tell her he’d threatened him. “Yes.”
If Simms thought he could work the angle of Lance sleeping with one of his employees, he’d meet the brick wall of Charlotte’s ironclad consensual romance agreement, and for the first time, he was glad she’d insisted on it. Mostly to keep her name from being dragged through the mud as Simms worked on grinding his personal ax.
Just the idea of anyone talking shit about her ignited his anger and made his teeth clench. I can’t control what people think, I can’t control what people think. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“I’m just surprised.”
A threatening noise slipped out as Lance leered at him, and the idiot at least had the good sense to back up a step. “She knows more about football than you do. She’s smart, and she cares about the team, and I’d expect better than sexist drivel from you, Simms. Actually, that’s a lie. I don’t expect anything but a cheap ploy to sell a story, no matter who it hurts.”
Simms held up his hands as if he was surrendering, and Lance hoped that was what he was doing. It’d be bad PR for him to punch the guy, and he wouldn’t even care all that much if it didn’t mean that Charlotte would be pissed and it might mess with their last night before they had to return to the real world.
Heading back to the office in San Antonio would make it easier to do their jobs, but complications would also arise— He wasn’t foolish enough to think they wouldn’t simply because he didn’t want them to.
“You do realize who she is, don’t you?” Simms asked. “Who her dad is?”
Of course he did. She was the human resources manager who drove him crazy as she also drove him wild with desire. He also knew it bothered her that her dad was a gambler, although he racked his brain, trying to remember if she’d ever said his name.
“You don’t know,” Simms said, glee creeping into his expression. “Her last name sounded so familiar, but it’s common enough that it took me a bit of Googling to figure out why.”
“Just say what you’re going to say. I’m busy.” He wanted to claim it didn’t matter and walk past him, but his worries about trusting her fully rushed to the surface, desperately wanting to be reassured.
“Pete James.”
It did sound familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
“The coach from UTSA who was fired for gambling—against his own team.”
…
“Goodbye,” Charlotte said, hugging Stacy as she was getting ready to leave with her new husband. They were so crazy cute, and with things going so well with her and Lance, she didn’t experience even a tinge of jealousy. Just happiness that she’d gotten to meet her and the rest of Lance’s family at such a happy time.
“I’m so glad we got to meet you. There I go, using ‘we’ now, but, like, we are a we.” A cute twitterpated squeal followed Stacy’s words, and she pulled back to look Charlotte in the eye. “I know I’ve been a bit airheaded, but next time we see you and Lance, we’ll have more time to hang out.”
Charlotte nodded, liking the sound of that.
Mitch neared, automatically stretching his hand out for Stacy’s. As soon as they linked fingers, he gave Charlotte the nod. “Later, Charlotte. Tell my brother he owes me a rematch on the field.”
Mere seconds later, Lance approached their group, so Mitch saved her the trouble and went ahead and repeated it himself.
Lance barely cracked a smile, which was rare whenever he and his brother messed with each other. Clearly he was preoccupied.
Charlotte nudged him and muttered, “This is where you return the trash talk. Tell him that you have me as your official tight end now, and I can sort of catch and everything, so we’re totally going to kick their asses.”
He peered down at her with a perplexed expression, the same one he wore whenever he was brainstorming or processing. It only lasted a second or two and then he snapped out of it, smiling at his brother as he congratulated him and Stacy yet again and told them to enjoy their honeymoon.
It seemed a smidge forced, though. Not the well wishes, but-more like Lance’s mind was still spinning on something else— Perhaps he’d learned something new about one of their current or prospective players.
“Is everything okay?” she asked. “Is it work? Because we’ve got a plan in place, and your dad declared we have our good juju back, so nothing to worry about there.”
Before he had the chance to answer, Maribelle rushed over and handed them long sparklers, asking Lance to help light the ends so the couple could run through the archway they were going to make with them.
The next few minutes were a blur of sparklers and the happy couple rushing toward a decked-out limo with streamers and “just married” hearts. Then Aaron nearly set Austin’s hair on fire, so all of the sparklers were dashed out with nearby glasses of water.
Charlotte began gathering trash and carried everything she could fit in her arms to the closest trash can.
“I appreciate that, dear,” Maribelle said, “but you don’t need to do that. The hotel has a whole crew that’ll clean up.”
Of course they did. In so many ways the Quaids seemed like everyone else, but there were those little reminders that everything they did was on a much grander scale.
Maribelle took both of her hands in hers. “I’m sure I’ve probably made it clear already, but I like to say things to people I care about, so they don’t have to wonder. I’m so glad my son brought you along. Even if I suspect it was originally to thwart my setup attempts.”
Charlotte bit back a smile. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”
“Well, as I told him last night, you far surpass the women I was originally trying to introduce him to, so joke’s on him. Or is it on me?” She shook her head. “Either way, I’m happy. I’m also going to take full credit for being the push that got you two together.”
Charlotte didn’t really care who got credit, only that she was incredibly happy things had worked out the way they had. “I’m so glad I got to meet you all. The wedding was beautiful, too. Thank you for including me in the activities and making me feel so welcome.”
“You are welcome. Anytime. I’m guessing you two will be taking off early tomorrow morning?”
Charlotte nodded. “Yeah, we have a lot to do in the next couple weeks. There are players and staff to acquire and big announcements to be made. It’ll be a whirlwind till Draft Day. Then there will be training and pre-season and…” It all hit her at once, an exhausted sort of excitement— It’d probably slammed into Lance a few minutes ago, and now she understood why he’d felt further away. “Let’s just say the foreseeable future is going to be very, very busy.”
Maribelle used her grip on her hands to pull Charlotte into a hug. “Take care of him for me, will you? I’ve been worried about him for a while, even before he inherited the team. Sure, he’s younger than most owners, but pressure is rough on people, emotionally and physically. That concern for your kids never stops, you know, in spite of how often they insist they’re fully grown and you don’t need to worry anymore. As if that’s all it takes.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. Although a pang followed as she wondered if her dad ever truly worried about her. She’d always felt like it was the other way around. But they were working on it, and she couldn’t let herself give up hope yet. Not until she at least saw for herself if the treatment had helped, and if things went any differently from here on out.
“You have no idea how much it comforts me that Lance has you,” Maribelle said as she dropped her arms and gave her a big smile.
Warmth wound through her,
and she set a mental note to ensure Lance’s parents were invited to the first big game. Then they could see how much Lance had accomplished.
She’d tell herself not to count her chicks before they hatched, but she felt it in her bones— This season was going to surprise people, even if it took a couple years to fully turn the franchise around.
Lance walked up to them, and Maribelle threw her arms around him. He hugged her right back, and another swirl of affection twisted through Charlotte at seeing such a big dude with an obvious soft spot for his mom.
They exchanged another round of goodbyes, and then Charlotte slipped her hand into Lance’s.
Once they hit the sand, she bent and removed her high heels, the way she had on that first night he’d walked her to the hotel from the restaurant. Luckily they were far easier to get off than on.
A hint of residual embarrassment crawled through her as she recalled that night, at how she’d freaked out and had him catapult her over the balcony. At least that version of her might be consoled by the fact that she’d ended up here, holding hands with Lance, fully committed to making this relationship work.
Even more comforting, they’d completed the necessary paperwork, although they were breaking the rule about supervisors not dating their direct reports the tiniest bit.
A thread of worry still remained about what others would think, but she did her best to bat it away. What mattered was they worked as a couple and made each other better. Best of all, there wasn’t a strange power balance—had never been. And if anyone thought she only kept her job because she was sleeping with the boss, she’d rattle off a boatload of stats and tell them to shove it.
Well, she’d say it in a nicer way because she was the human resources person, after all.
Feel free to fill out a form, and we’ll review all concerns.
Then promptly throw them away, you jerks.
Now she was irritated by the possibility of people having a problem with them. What was Lance’s mantra, the one that got him through the constant speculation about his life?
Oh, yeah. You can’t control what other people think. Might be time to adopt it as her motto as well.
Thanks to the absence of her heels, she felt even shorter than usual, especially as she glanced up, up, up at her sexy boyfriend. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m exhausted. Although my brain’s decided to ignore that fact and kick into high gear, in spite of doing my best to tell it to shut up.”
“Want to bounce any of those thoughts off me? It might help.”
He sighed, the weariness he’d admitted to coming through. “Let’s get to our room first.”
“Okay.” With the sun gone from the sky, the sand had cooled off considerably, but if she dragged her toes, she still felt some of the warmth. “Where does one even go on their honeymoon when they’ve already been staying at a beautiful beach resort for a week?”
“I think they’re doing a quick tour of Europe before he has to be back to start the offseason workout program with the rest of the team.”
“What’s going to happen when the Mustangs play against his team?”
Lance shrugged. “We used to play for different teams, and while they were always hard games, we managed to work it out.”
Something was off. He seemed to be holding her at bay a bit, his words coming out shorter and more emotionless than usual. She tried not to take it personally. Clearly the stress and pressure of the upcoming week were hitting him now that the wedding was over, the same way they were tugging at her. He was probably also sad to be leaving his family but trying to do the macho thing and not talk about it or let it show that he actually had feelings. Men.
Charlotte had promised his mom she’d take care of him, and she planned on doing just that. They’d definitely have a conversation about whatever was weighing on his mind—along with his moods, because she wasn’t going to let him push her away. But since she desperately needed to get off her feet and out of her dress, she’d honor his request and wait till they arrived at the room.
Our room, he’d called it.
When they reached the resort’s main entrance, she stepped into her shoes, grimacing at the gritty sand and how it acted like, well, sandpaper against her feet. On the upside, her feet should be super smooth. On the downside, ouch.
She didn’t bother fastening the buckles on the ankle straps, since she only had to make it down the hall and into the room. She hooked her hand on the crook of Lance’s elbow, leaning heavily on him as they walked down the hallway. Exhaustion was seeping into her body, and she rested her head against his shoulder.
It’d only been a few days ago that it’d drifted there of its own accord. She smiled at the memory of him guiding her head back down after the embarrassing realization she’d been using him as a pillow. How awesome was it that she could now freely indulge in resting her head on his shoulder? On his chest…
Not only was she eager to crawl into bed, but also to curl up next to him.
Of course he had promised her a Part II, and that woke up certain areas of her body, which in turn, chased off most of her fatigue.
Lance fished the key out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and flipped on the lights as they stepped inside. Between last-minute contracts and the wedding prep, the place was a disaster, papers and computers and clothes strewn everywhere.
Fortunately her suitcase sat in the mix. She grabbed hold of the handle and rolled it toward the bathroom. “I’m going to rinse the sand off my feet and change into something more comfortable. And that is a pick-up line, in case you were wondering.”
He was turned away, so she couldn’t tell if it was one that’d landed.
Well, sex would help with the stress, too. First they could blow off some steam that way and then they’d talk, and she’d find other ways to keep his worries at bay.
Charlotte sighed as she kicked off her shoes. She walked over to the tub and began filling it with warm water. Then she opened her suitcase and found the very sheer nightie the girls had talked her into buying at the lingerie shop stop during the bachelorette party.
…
He was going to have to say something. He couldn’t have sex with her and then ask about her dad. Yes, she’d told him the guy was a gambler, but he needed to know if she’d purposely left out his name, along with the other exact details.
Even if he’d rather forget about it and get lost in her. He wanted to go back to before that asshole threw who her dad was in his face. Simms had stood there waiting, too, wanting to record his reaction.
I know her. Maybe he hadn’t known her for long, but he’d always considered himself a good judge of character.
Yeah, like with Sage. And your fullback. You did a great job putting your trust in them.
But Charlotte was different.
His phone buzzed, and he dug it out of his inside pocket.
Only it wasn’t his phone—he still had Charlotte’s cell and she’d just received a text. From Dad.
Only the beginning of the message showed: I hear you, but I just need to get a leg up…
Lance’s heart pounded hard in his chest. The thunder of it echoed through his head, so loud he was sure that Charlotte would be able to hear it, even through the closed door of the bathroom. That she’d sense he was dangerously close to crossing a line.
But wasn’t it his job to keep his company safe? To ensure he could give their new quarterback and coach everything he’d promised? There was so much money at play, and he couldn’t have anyone working for him whom he couldn’t fully trust.
He’d seen her enter her code. Had made that joke about how simple it was.
It’d be so simple to type it in real quick. To just take a peek.
Back and forth he debated.
It was a violation.
Then again, so was telling people outside the organization about the team’s plans, especially if it involved a man who would use the information to gamble. To cheat.
It almost seemed like so
meone else was in charge of his body as he punched in the code, telling himself he’d only look at that one text. Just to ensure he wasn’t making a mistake putting so much on the line by trusting Charlotte so fully. He could even understand helping out someone you loved, but he couldn’t stand for it, and he had to know.
Dad: I hear you, but I just need to get a leg up. Thanks for the tip.
What tip? Lance scrolled up, but the text above it didn’t go along with the conversation.
Dad: Give me a call. I need a check in.
Check in on who the Mustangs were talking to? On contract negotiations?
The next message down was from Shannon, and he tapped on it, too—he was already in, after all.
Charlotte: Guess what? Lance asked me to be his girlfriend! Eep!
Shannon: Nice catch! I mean he sort of breaks your football rules on EVERY SINGLE LEVEL, but he’s smoking hot and his net worth is through the roof.
Football rules? Did she usually only go for players? Of course now he was going to be making more than the players, so maybe that’s why she made an exception. Charlotte hadn’t struck him as a gold digger, but she’d mentioned how fancy the hotel was more than once. She’d also been working in the NFL long enough that she’d know how to play the innocent, struck girl.
She hadn’t responded to that text, either. Hadn’t said she didn’t care, or that wasn’t what was important to her.
Sage had acted like she didn’t care, but when it looked like his career was going down in flames, she’d sure jumped into another man’s bed quickly—one who was going to continue to make millions of dollars.
His phone rang and he jumped, his guilt getting the best of him. He scrambled to answer.
The guy rattled off his name and something about being from some paper? Lance had been distracted by noises coming from the bathroom and wondering if Charlotte was about to step out and didn’t catch everything. “I just heard that you guys signed Gavin Frost as your new quarterback. I’m going to be running it in tomorrow’s paper and on the blog. Care to comment?”
