Page 27 of The Sweet Spot

“Her name is Brynlee...” I tell her and watch her smile at me. Sometimes I wonder how we ever thought getting married for the sake of her being pregnant was a good idea. We were always better as friends.

“Fine. I want to do dinner with Brynlee so I can see Kennedy and her together.”

“I’m going back up to Boston later today. Dinner has to wait until I come back. Do you know when you’re leaving for Japan?” I ask, not sure I’m ready for her answer.

“They want us there in a month, but I think Shaun pushed back for two months. I think they’re going to meet somewhere in the middle with five or six weeks.” She picks up her purse and points it at me. “Now put on some damn clothes. This whole McSteamy thing you’ve got going on is a bit much, Deacon.” She kisses my cheek and crosses the room. “Let me know when you figure out when you’ll be back, I want to do dinner, Deacon. I want to see our daughter meet your woman. And, let me know if you need help with Kennedy’s room.”

She walks over to the door and turns with her hand on the knob. “She’s going to have to stay with you for a bit before the official move. We’ll need to get her comfortable with it before it actually happens,” she tells me, but it almost feels like a mental checklist she’s going through for herself.

“Isla...” I call out until she finally stops and looks at me. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re a good father, Deacon. And I’m a good mother. This is what’s best for Kennedy. But you better get really good at FaceTime and have a spare room for me. Because I plan on flying home as much as I can. I’ve never been apart from her for more than the month you get her each summer, and I don’t know how I’m going to do it.”

I shake my head, and she laughs. “Tell Brynlee I’m sorry for interrupting whatever I interrupted this morning.”

“Yeah. I probably won’t be mentioning that.”

She shrugs and walks out, and I’m left standing in the middle of this hotel room, wondering how my world just tilted on its axis for the second time in twelve hours.

DEACON

I’m waiting to be escorted into Max Kingston’s office later that morning when Brynlee walks out of it and directly into my chest. My hands grip her shoulders momentarily before dropping, and she mumbles, “Excuse me,” then hurries by without looking back.

Shit. I guess she just gave her official letter of resignation. She’d mentioned she was planning on doing that this morning.

I’m in crisis mode, running on no sleep. And as if that wasn’t enough, my little hit-and-run, who just scurried away, has taken up all the extra space in my brain. I’m definitely regretting not trying to catch a few minutes of shut-eye after Isla left and hoping my reflexes are sharp enough to go toe-to-toe with the powerhouses in this room.

Max sits opposite me behind a massive desk. His reputation precedes him in every circle he’s known. This man has helped take the sport of hockey to a new level and put this team in the rarefied air of the greats before them. His sister stands next to him, just as formidable, having run the Philadelphia Kings at an equally high level. With her arms crossed over her chest, she’s looking at me like she’s less than impressed. And that’s without knowing all the ways I defiled her daughter last night.

I fight the smile pulling at my lips as I remember the look on Brynlee’s face the first time she came and start mentally counting the hours until I can make her do it again.

These siblings run one of the most profitable companies to ever own one sports franchise, let alone two. And even though we’ve already done the interview, negotiated terms, and offered and accepted the position, I’m still half expecting them to tell me this is all one big joke. That they’ve judged me and found me lacking in some way and are rescinding their offer. Because hiring someone my age for this job is nearly unheard of.

The fact their family has been staying at my parents’ inn each summer since I was playing pond hockey in peewees make it all the more difficult to believe.

“Thanks for coming in, Deacon.” Max motions to the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” I respond as I sit, my eyes pulling to his massive windows that open to the rink below. Pristine ice gleams with the red, white, and blue Revolution logo proudly taking up residence at center ice.

“We’ve got Hunter conferenced in.” Scarlet motions toward the phone.

“Yes, you do, and at an ungodly hour too, might I add,” my agent answers, always unhappy with meetings that take place before noon.

“Listen, Hunter, this should be fast and painless,” Max tells him as Scarlet scowls at her brother.

“Don’t kiss his ass. You make enough money off our players, combined, to send your grandkids’ grandkids to private boarding schools on our dime, Hunter.” Her smile is calculated and cool as she picks up papers from Max’s desk. “A nine a.m. meeting won’t kill you.”

Max and I are each handed a copy of the contract we’ve already agreed to. “Were there any questions or concerns with the contract?” she asks, looking over Max’s shoulder.

“No. Everything looks good on our end,” Hunter answers as I skim over the highlights again. It’s all there. The salary. The bonuses. The expectations from both parties.

“Us too,” Max agrees and signs his copy before handing it to Scarlet to do the same. Once she’s done, I sign as well and try to act like I’m not a kid whose dream just came true. I hand the contract back to Max, who exchanges it for a manilla envelope.

“A copy of the press release that’s going out later this week is in there, as well as the keys to the house and your contact for the relocation.”

“Thank you for the opportunity,” I tell them both as my mind races. “I have some loose ends I need to tie up in Boston over the next month. But I’m looking forward to working with you. On a personal note, my daughter is going to be coming to live with me full-time. I was wondering if there is anyone on staff who could possibly help me get her transferred into... Well, I guess I need to decide on a school first before I get her transferred.”

Max pulls a card from his desk drawer. “My wife, Daphne, sits on the board of Kroydon Hills Prep. They’re a K–12 school.” He looks at his sister and smiles. “All our kids have gone through there. Scarlet and I went there back in the day too. It’s a great school. If you want to give Daphne a call, I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

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