Going for the Goal

by Sara Rider

  Except that was bullshit. He’d go to the ends of the earth if it meant getting her back. The problem was, she wouldn’t let him.

  “What did you do?” Mike asked.

  He took a long sip of beer, letting the bitter flavor fill his mouth. “Patched a hole in her wall and gave her the key to my place.”

  “Seriously? That right there’s the problem,” Luke said like he’d just discovered the cure for cancer. “You tried to win her over with a utility knife and an electric sander. That’s not exactly the pinnacle of romance, dude.”

  “Go big or go home,” Mike added.

  “What are you suggesting I do?”

  Mike laughed and picked up his controller. “Shit, I don’t know.”

  “Claire once advised me to steal the principal’s microphone during an assembly and publicly beg Jenni Neilson’s forgiveness after she caught me making out with the lead cheerleader at a party.”

  “Did it work?” Mike asked.

  “No, unless Claire’s plan was to secretly make sure I ended up with a week’s worth of detention. But I did end up taking that cheerleader to prom.” Luke leaned back with his arms behind his head and waggled his eyebrows.

  Mike threw a cushion at Luke’s face.

  “None of that’ll work. Jillian didn’t want a public relationship. That kind of shit would push her further away,” Nick grumbled.

  “So, what? You’re just going to give up?” Luke asked.

  Nick scowled, but even Mike was looking at him incredulously. “No. I’m going to do what she wants. Keep my head down, stay out of trouble, and win the Stanley Cup. But first I’m going to drink the rest of your beer and show you how it’s done on Xbox.” He hit the start button on his controller to resume the game. The opposing players stood lifeless on the screen while he ducked around them and scored in record time, which was when he realized Mike’s controller was sitting untouched next to him on the couch.

  Nick sighed. “Fine. There was one thing I wanted to do for her. She’ll probably hate it, but it’s going to drive me crazy if I don’t. Satisfied?”

  “Just let us know how we can help,” Luke said, grinning.

  “Are we going to get arrested over this? I’m too pretty for a mug shot,” Luke whined.

  “Not if you go watch the hallway and warn us if anyone comes,” Nick growled as he unlocked Jillian’s office door. He’d copied the key along with the one to her apartment, planning to repair her shoddy desk, but now he had bigger plans. A woman who worked as hard as she did deserved an office that was as sleek and elegant as she was.

  Despite using a newly cut key, he didn’t have trouble with the lock sticking. In fact, it gave way so easily, the whole door could have been pushed open with one good shove. Definitely something he needed to talk to the building manager about.

  Mike stepped into the windowless gray room behind him. “Jesus, this place is a dump.”

  Nick bristled at the insult but kept his mouth shut. That was the reason they were sneaking into her office while she was on an overnight trip to see a client in Texas—something he only knew about because he’d asked if she would be at the game tonight after she’d broken her weeks-long radio silence with an email to let him know the Vipers were close to offering him a contract renewal package.

  “Start measuring.” He handed Mike the measuring tape and a pad of paper and got to work on the wobbly leg on her desk. Fixing her busted Ikea furniture wasn’t exactly a grand gesture, but the damn thing had been keeping him up at night worrying that it would collapse on top of her. The real plan was to temporarily repair the desk and come up with the specs for a complete overhaul. Something he’d hire one of the top interior designers in the city to do so there’d be no chance of him mucking it up.

  Luke burst into the room. “Guys!”

  Nick grabbed his tool kit, ready to bolt from the note of panic in Luke’s voice. “Shit, is she here?”

  “No. I just realized we forgot to make a reservation for the breakfast place I like after this. It’s going to be packed and I had my heart set on their smoked salmon Benedict and home fries.”

  Nick was torn between punching his friend for scaring him half to death, and laughing. Since Luke had managed to break some of the tension in the eerily quiet morning hour, he went with the latter option. He checked the time on Jillian’s desk clock. “It’s only six fifty-seven, and we’ll be out of here in fifteen minutes. We’ll make it before the morning rush.”

  “You say that now, but you don’t know how many people line up for their eggs.” He rubbed his stomach before returning to his post in the hallway.

  Nick pulled out the desk chair, trying to ignore the way her scent seemed to linger in the worn leather, and settled under her desk with his tool set. He ran his hand along the veneer-covered plywood to search out the length of the crack and caught his hand on something small and hard at the joint. “What the hell?”

  Mike heard him mutter and came to look at the source of the problem. Nick frowned as his friend’s expression darkened, suggesting he wasn’t wrong to think this was something other than a cheap plastic screw.

  “Let’s go,” Nick said.

  They packed up quickly and locked the door.

  “Done already?” Luke asked.

  Nick shook his head. “Change of plans. Someone planted a microphone in Jillian’s office, and I’m pretty sure I know exactly who the son of a bitch is.”

  25

  “ ‘We regret to inform you that our program offers students internship placement at NYAPSA-accredited agencies only and therefore we cannot include Nichols Sports Management on the eligibility list for the upcoming semester.’ This is bullshit!” This was the fifth email of its kind in Jillian’s inbox in the last six weeks. She slammed her laptop shut and adjusted her phone closer to her ear. “Every sports management program across the state is banning me from their intern placement lists.”

  “So? Screw ’em,” Genevieve said. “When the door closes, find a crowbar and smash through the window. It’s what you do best.”

  “If my appeal to the Association for reinstatement is successful, I’ll have to contact each program individually to get them to reconsider putting Nichols Sports Management on the eligibility list. It’s going to be a huge pain in the ass.” There had been a time when Jillian shared Genevieve’s unwavering optimism and take-no-prisoners attitude, but for the past few weeks, she’d been mired in self-doubt. She wasn’t used to it and she sure as hell didn’t like it. The aftermath of her disqualification from the Association had shaken her confidence like an apple tree in a hurricane. The fact that ending things with Nick lent credibility to her appeal should’ve been a silver lining, but losing him caused a hurt that sliced through her like a chainsaw.

  “Oh, honey. You’re a female sports agent. This was never going to be easy. If none of the schools are willing to send you their students, then find your own intern.”

  God, if only it were that simple. The universities with sports management programs pre-vetted the applicants, making sure their grades and aptitudes were up to par before sending them for internship opportunities, something she was too busy to do herself. “I don’t want just anyone. I want someone serious about their career. Someone I can groom into a more permanent role in my company. A protégé. Not some random person off the street who applies for the job on a whim.”

  “And how well has that worked for you so far?”

  “Hey, I . . .” Jillian growled. “Okay, fine. It hasn’t worked at all.” Getting elected to the board was supposed to change that. Earn her the kind of prestige that should have resulted in a flood of applications from top-quality interns in her inbox.

  “Face it. You’re a control freak.”

  “And you’re lucky I let you talk to me this way.”

  Genevieve laughed. “Look, I get it. I’m the same way about my bu
siness. It’s hard to hand over your baby to someone else. No one will ever be good enough or smart enough or willing to sacrifice everything to see it succeed the way you will, but if you don’t get some help soon, you’re going to burn out. Besides, we both know that’s not what you’re really upset about. I’m going to ply you with drinks next weekend, when I’m back from London, until you’re ready to open up and talk about what happened with Nick. Try to keep your spirits up until then, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jillian lied, knowing she’d already kept Genevieve up too late, given the time difference between the two continents. Besides, her best friend was right. It wasn’t the first time she’d been knocked down in this business, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. She needed to brush it off and keep moving forward. Of course, that would be so much easier if she had Nick at her side. He’d made her feel brilliant. Invincible. Loved.

  She pushed away her bowl of clam chowder, which had long since gone cold, and dropped her head into her arms. It was getting harder to keep the emotions she’d frozen inside herself from splintering. Everything reminded her of him. The replastered wall had taunted her until she’d finally painted over it, hoping it would keep her stomach from twisting into knots every time she walked by. It didn’t help. The texture was still too smooth, the color too shiny, just like everything had been with Nick.

  He was more than a client. She loved him, and because of that she had to push him away, no matter how much it hurt to act like he meant nothing to her. How much it killed her to ignore his calls and texts. If she were honest with him, he would go after Liakos and jeopardize everything they’d worked for. She couldn’t let that happen—not when she was in a position to prevent it.

  She picked up her head when a knock sounded at her apartment door, and gasped when she looked through the peephole. Nick was supposed to be stepping onto the ice on the other side of the country right now. Her panic overrode her brain and she swung the door open. “You can’t be here . . .”

  Oh.

  “Hey, Jillian, how’ve you been?” The handsome face looking back at her wasn’t Nick’s. It was Ben’s.

  She moved aside to let him in. “What are you doing here?”

  He flashed a grin, teeth blindingly white against his deeply tanned skin. “I have a job interview.”

  “That’s wonderful! Nick must be so excited.” She choked on the last words. She and Ben had exchanged a few text messages since she’d ended things with his brother, but they’d steered clear of discussing Nick and their breakup.

  “He doesn’t know yet. Doesn’t even know I’m in town. It’s a surprise visit. I don’t want to get his hopes up if it doesn’t work out, but I think I have a decent shot. At least, I hope I do.”

  “Of course you do.” She squeezed his hand. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “Water with a side of brutal honesty?”

  “Can’t say that’s on the menu. How about Earl Grey and a healthy side of avoidance?” She filled her little plastic kettle and switched it on. The excuse to look away from the face that so closely mirrored Nick’s was all too welcome.

  “Earl Grey would be perfect. But we still need to talk about Nick. And you.”

  Her shoulders tensed. She took her time hunting down her best white china mugs, sugar bowl, and creamer, which she almost never used, but eventually she was out of excuses. She brought the tea to Ben at her high, square barstool-style table, clearing away her laptop and cold soup before joining him.

  “So, tell me about the job.” Her excitement for Ben wasn’t forced. He had a genuine warmth that made it impossible not to like and root for him.

  “It’s for a production assistant position with an off-Broadway company. I’ll miss the kids, but I won’t miss teaching high school physics.”

  “That’s great.”

  Excitement sparkled in his eyes. “The pay is terrible, but it’s a good stepping-stone. I’ve finally accepted that taking a loan from Nick wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it means going after what makes me happy. I’ll pay him back eventually, and I know my being close-by means more to him than money. The thing about Nick is that he doesn’t offer something if he doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t let people in easily, but when he does—”

  “He takes care of them. I know.” She exhaled heavily and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “He’s pretty miserable right now. And so are you. I can tell by the mascara smudges under your eyes.”

  “What?” She swiped her fingers beneath her bottom lashes. “Lancôme does not smudge!”

  “I’m kidding! But be honest. Are you happy right now?”

  She pursed her lips, trying to force the lie. It wouldn’t come. Eventually she shook her head.

  “Then why? I know his emotional IQ is a bit stunted, but he sounds like he’s completely in the dark about what happened. He wants to fix things.”

  She took a sip of her tea and cursed under her breath when the hot liquid burned her tongue. “He didn’t do anything wrong. I broke up with him to protect him.”

  Ben frowned, and she found herself explaining the entire fiasco with Liakos. The lies. The threats. The ultimatum that forced her to break things off with Nick with ruthless efficiency.

  “Why not tell him the truth?”

  She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to untangle some of the invisible chains locking tight around her chest. “Because we both know Nick wouldn’t sit back and let Liakos get away with this if I did. He’d go after him. He’s playing better than ever, his public image has turned around completely, and the Vipers are finally remembering his value. One fight would undo everything he’s worked for.”

  “There are things he cares about more than money or winning the Cup.”

  She shook her head. Nick would sacrifice just about anything for the people he loved because he was hardwired that way, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to win the Stanley Cup more than anything in life. “He cares about his teammates, too. The Vipers have been on an incredible winning streak after everyone had all but written them off. For the first time all season, they’re playing like a winning team. The truth would tear them apart, and then how would Nick feel? This is the only way to give him what he wants. I can’t let him sacrifice everything he’s worked for. He deserves a chance to make his dream come true.”

  “He deserves to be happy.”

  “The Cup—”

  “Might not make him as happy as being with you. Just think about it, okay?”

  She bit her lip, trying to keep the last shreds of her resolve from fracturing. Looking at Ben’s handsome face, so similar to Nick’s, made her want to forget all logic and tell Nick the truth. Beg for forgiveness. “I will.”

  “I’m checking my inbox right now.” Jillian’s heartbeat thundered as she clicked open the attachment Allan Tyson had just emailed, but she tried to keep any trace of excitement out of her voice. The PDF was as plain as could be—size 12 Times New Roman font against a blank white background—but inside was the culmination of everything she’d been working for since the minute she’d signed Nick Salinger. “It’s here. I’m interested to know what prompted the timing. It’s a bit on the early side for a contract renewal, wouldn’t you say?”

  She waited patiently while listening to Tyson’s measured breath through the receiver, curious to see whether he’d offer a truthful answer. “He’s shown some good leadership on the ice lately, and a number of his teammates have brought up his intangible value.”

  A sour taste coated her triumph. Liakos had come through after all, but at a cost she still couldn’t stomach. “I’ll have a look at it and discuss it with my client. Of course, we’ll have to compare it with the other potential offers on the table.”

  “Yes, well, we look forward to hearing your thoughts.”

  She ended the call with the necessary niceties and immediately scanned the document. A
two-year extension, but no pay increase. Not surprising considering Nick’s age, but at the same time disappointing. He’d been playing like a rock star, easily leading the Vipers through to the second round of the play-offs. Most disappointing were the overly strict behavioral clauses tucked away on the seventh page. But every negotiation needed to start somewhere. At the core, it was still a damn good offer.

  She leaned back in her desk chair and let her gaze wander to the framed prints on her office wall depicting different points of success in her career. Her law degree. A fuzzy picture taken on her phone of the first contract she ever signed. Jaime’s cover shot from last summer’s Bodies of Sport magazine issue. They all represented the kind of achievements that made her hard work and long nights worthwhile. This one should be no different, but the overwhelming pride she felt at accomplishing something every other agent assumed impossible was overcast by heartache.

  She couldn’t avoid him forever. Her conversation with Ben had replayed in her head on a constant loop over the last few days. Could she tell Nick the truth without jeopardizing everything? Would he even be willing to listen?

  Either way, she needed to face him soon. There were too many specifics in the contract to go over, and she wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t treat him the same way she would any other client. Hell, that wasn’t even close to the truth of what he was. He was so much more than any other client, and having an excuse to finally see him again sent ripples of excitement through her belly. The Vipers had a home game tonight, and while there was no way she’d interrupt his pregame routine by springing this on him, she wasn’t going to let her ticket go to waste.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon poring over the finer details of the contract and finishing up some lingering business before stopping at home to touch up her makeup and change her clothes a million times before settling on her favorite pair of jeans, which would keep her warm and still look good. With every passing minute, the hesitation and trepidation about seeing Nick that had plagued her for the last six weeks seemed to fade, replaced by unabashed excitement.