Page 45 of Fall Wherever They May

I close my laptop. “Yes. After the meeting, please clear my schedule for the rest of the day. I have some things I need to take care of." I stand from my chair and follow her to the conference room.

Teagan, Trey, Luke, and the assistant coaches are already seated at the conference table. I find an empty chair next to one of the assistant coaches, Michael Gallagher, and take a seat while Hannah sits at the other end of the table beside Teagan. Trey’s laptop is connected to the big screen at the front of the room. A brooding hockey player’s picture is plastered on the screen.

“Most of you may know this face.” Trey begins. “But for those of you who don’t, this is the goalie for Boston, Sean 'Mac' Mackenzie. I called this meeting to go over some prospects and trade deals, but also because Ivan has come to share in confidence that he will be announcing his retirement at the end of the season.”

I had no idea he was considering retirement, though he is in his late thirties, so I guess that makes sense.

“I’m not a fan,” Luke says, resting his elbows on the conference table. He levels Trey with a pointed look. “I don’t have time to babysit a player who flaunts around his revolving door of women and bad boy reputation. We don’t need that kind of distraction in this organization.”

Trey rubs his hand along his jaw. “That’s why I’m coming to you all. If Teagan can work with him on the PR side of things and whip him into shape, I think he could be an asset to the team. Not to mention, Boston is looking to trade him.”

“Why do they want to trade him if he is so good?” I frown in curiosity.

“For the exact reason I said. The guy is a PR nightmare and causes distractions for his team. Look, I will coach whoever you put in front of me, but I’m warning you against making this deal. Ultimately, the decision is yours and Aspen’s,” Luke says.

Trey levels with Luke. “I want him. He may have a reputation, but he’s also one of the best goalies in the league. He will also boost ticket sales. He’s good . . . really good.” Trey directs his attention to me. “Aspen, what are your thoughts? If Teagan can work with him, would you be willing to give him a shot?”

I mull it over, then look to Teagan. “Is this something you can handle?”

Teagan nods her head. “Yes, I’ve been looking into him for the past month. He just needs some good coaching on the PR side of things.”

Silently thinking, I look to Trey. “How much is his contract with Boston right now?”

“He’s at 8 million annually. There are rumors of offers coming in at 9.25 million with a three-year contract.”

My nails tap on the conference table. I don’t know much about purchasing or trading players, so I’m pulling this out of my ass. The only reason I’m here is because I’m the one with the money, and I have to sign off on the contract. “How much of our budget would he use up if we bought out his contract?”

“Not much.”

I direct my attention to Luke. “Ultimately, you are the one who has to deal with him day in and day out. Get with Trey and work out whatever you two want. You know this isn’t my wheelhouse.” I focus on Trey. “If this guy is as good as you say he is, and Luke agrees, offer no more than ten million. You can gowith a three-year contract; it’s up to you both to decide. Is that reasonable?”

Trey and Luke nod their heads. “That’s more than reasonable. Now, moving on.” Trey changes the picture on the screen to Callan in his hockey jersey. A million tiny tingles shoot up my spine and to my head. Even in this picture, with no expression marring his face, he’s gorgeous: olive skin tone, one tiny frown line that rests right beside his left eyebrow. His brown hair is dark, cut the same as always: short on the sides and faded into a little length on the top—messy, how he wears it most days. My nails itch to scratch the stubbles that shadow his sharp jawline. I always thought he was beautiful, but the more I’ve grown to know him and his heart, the more he lights my soul on fire and the more attractive I find him.

And I swear, every time he looks at me like he does with those pretty hazel eyes, I’m left craving to suck and bite his plump, fucking kissable lips. I bet he’s a fantastic kisser. I mean, with lips like his, how could he not be?

Trey pulls me from my thoughts when he says, “Callan Miles. Thirty-one years old. Best center in the NHL right now. His contract is up at the end of this season, and his agent says—”

I cut Trey off. “No.”

Everyone whips their head around to look at me, and I fumble to recover. I know I’m acting on my own selfish agenda, but I don’t want him to go anywhere. “Like you said, he’s the best in the league.” I shrug. “Do what you need to do to renew his contract. Next.”

Trey nods as I take a sip of the water in front of me. “The thing is: his contract right now is at 42 million. The way his agent is talking, we would have to offer him at least a 49-million-dollar extension for three years, and there’s a possibility we would have to offer him even more just to compete with the offers coming in from other teams in the league. Whatever wedo, we can’t go over our salary cap. He could choose to retire or leave the team on his own accord once his contract is up.” I sputter my drink and begin to cough.

After I recover, I say, “Do it. Make the offer; just don’t go over the salary cap.” I don’t care how much it costs me to keep Callan on my team.

I hope he wants to stay. What if he decides he doesn’t want to be here anymore? Oh God, how will Tucker deal with his leaving if he decides to go? His heart will be broken. Fuck, my heart will be broken.

Luke nods in agreement with me. Luke’s voice saves me from freefalling further into a pit of spiraling thoughts. “I agree. Don’t let Miles go. He’s worth every penny. I know he’s close to reaching retirement, but I say give him three more years at fifty-two million. That puts him retiring with us around the age of thirty-five.”

“If he wants more than that, I’ll sign off on it, and we can renegotiate other contracts to stay below the salary cap,” I add.

The last thing I need is to be assessed extra taxes or to face any fines from the NHL.

With that settled, other faces appear on the screen as we discuss who we are sending back down to the farm team and which college players we are looking at drafting. We wrap up the meeting, and as we filter out of the conference room, Hannah catches up with me. “Nice recovery there, boss lady.” I chuckle.

“You know you need to talk to HR soon.”

“Look, nothing is going on with us, but if that changes, HR will be the first to know. I’m not above my own rules. I’ll be the first to sign the contract, but as it stands right now, we’re just friends.”

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