Page 2 of The Wedding Deal
Charlotte glared at him, lips pursed. “Well, it was also against section two of the employee handbook. As was asking the guys, uh”—she cleared her throat—“where they’d stashed their balls. Or if they had any to start with.”
“So let me get this straight…” Lance leaned forward and folded his forearms across the top of the desk. “People came to you to complain about these things I said to motivate them to pull their heads out of their asses?”
“I think they considered it insulting as opposed to motivating. And just an FYI, saying ‘pull their heads out of their asses’ also goes on the inappropriate list. In addition to being on the vulgar side, to build a happy and productive workplace, we need to treat others well and help them feel safe. Try more carrot versus stick in your approach, and I believe you’ll get better results.”
The line of his jaw tightened, and his words came out clipped. “You think I don’t know what it takes to rally a team? To push them into action?”
Charlotte ignored the instinctual flight response coursing through her and held her ground. “On the football field, yes, but office dynamics are different. I brought you a copy of the employee manual, and I’m sure that reading over the policies will help you better understand.” She slid the thin book off the top of her pile and tossed it in front of him. “Since we’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, I’ll just hit the highlights: wepolitelydiscuss differences of opinions; all employees deserve respect; and we work hard to ensure that relationships between employees are appropriate and harmonious. Apleaseandthank younever hurt, either—kindness is catching.”
Lance picked up the manual and flipped through the pages so fast he couldn’t possibly have read a single word. It dropped back to the desk with athud, and he placed his hand on top of it. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Charlotte.”
Something inside of her flickered at the way he’d said her name, all deep and a pinch intimate, and she quickly snuffed it out. So he had a sexy voice to go along with his drool-worthy looks, which she absolutely wasn’t going to let throw her off. In fact, she wasn’t going to think about his sexiness at all. Nope, she’d simply ignore how snuggly his crisp white shirt fit across his built chest and the way his Mustangs-appropriate red and black tie hid the fact he’d undone his top button, giving him a slightly disheveled edge. She definitely wouldn’t think about the dark scruff covering his chiseled jawline or how underrated the rugged businessman look was.
All those were merely observations she’d catalog along with everything else in her brain about Lance Quaid.
The important thing was he’d said thank you without sounding even slightly sarcastic. Even if he didn’t mean it, a lot of workplace etiquette was faking it till you made it. “Just doing my job.”
“I assure you that I’m going to straighten everything up at the meeting. That way you can get this off your plate and focus on the more important parts of your job.”
The urge to explain that employee relationships were an important part of her job was strong, but she figured it was one of those pick-your-battles situations. The biggest battle was over, and as that sank in, tension leaked out of her neck and shoulders. “Oh good. I was worried this would go a lot rougher.”
“Not at all.” He picked up a pen and spun it through long fingers she presumed came in handy when gripping a football. “I’m a perfectly reasonable guy.”
“Glad to hear it.” All that worry over nothing. She backed away from the desk, her steps much lighter with the pressure of scolding her boss officially off her shoulders. Maybe the transition wouldn’t be so bad once they all got more used to each other. She probably shouldn’t have judged him so harshly, either, simply because she hated change and was missing her old boss. “Okay, so I’ll see you at the meeting.”
He inclined his chin. “Until then.”
…
Lance strolled into the meeting room with its theater-like layout and cushy seats that faced a screen where the team often watched film. The facilities had recently been upgraded, and as much as he loved his grandpa, he didn’t understand why he’d poured so much money into frivolous things that his staff hardly deserved.
The head coach, general manager, offensive and defensive coordinators, director of pro personnel, CFO, and director of scouting sat in the front row, shooting the shit and not even bothering to look up when he came in.
There were a dozen or so other people in attendance—the specialized and conditioning coaches, who were seated in the second row—as well as a few members from the front office, including the brunette HR manager who’d stormed into his office earlier. Despite the looming meeting, he bit back a smile at the way she’d reprimanded him for his insults and vulgar language, tossed an employee handbook at him, and demanded he read it.
He wasn’t sure how he’d missed her in the blur of introductions, but his eyes lingered on her now. Her long, chocolate-colored curls contrasted her pale skin and perfectly framed her almond-shaped eyes, pert nose, and lips he’d bet were pursed more often than not. She gave him an encouraging head nod from her seat in the second row, and he walked to the center stage area of the room.
A little over three years ago, he’d been carried off the football field, and he’d known in his gut it’d been his last game, even as he tried to tell himself he could come back. He’d already had surgery on his torn ACL his senior year of high school, and instead of giving it time to fully heal, he’d pushed through the pain in order to play in college. After his second surgery, the doctors warned him that if he pushed much more, he could lose most of the mobility in his knee.
That almost hadn’t been enough to keep him off the field, but months after the surgery and a lot of physical therapy, he still couldn’t move as fast as he needed to, and he put what was best for the team above what he wanted. Now that his mom’s father had left him the Mustangs, he planned to do the same thing he had back then and make decisions that would be the best for the team. This was his second chance to do what he loved, and he wasn’t going to kowtow to his staff’s fragile feelings.
Seriously, what a bunch of overgrown babies.
He fastened the middle button of the suit coat he’d thrown on before the meeting and cleared his throat, impatiently waiting as the chatter in the front row gradually died down and all eyes finally lifted to him. “We’ve got a problem—a big one. Everyone’s gotten a little too comfortable, and a lot too complacent, and this whole organization’s turned into a total shitshow.”
Charlotte leaned forward, a finger in the air, and when he glanced at her, she mouthed,“Nice, remember? Be nice.”She mimicked waving something in front of her face, her way of reminding him to use the dangling carrot method, he was sure.
“It’s an unorganized mess,” he revised, and she gave him a thumbs-up, along with an encouraging smile. She had a great smile, too, one that made her cheeks stand out and softened her uber-serious, all-business edges. For a second, he forgot he was in the middle of a speech.
That’s it. No more looking her way.
She probably wouldn’t be smiling for much longer, anyway.
“I tried to give you all a chance and tell you what I thought you’d need to hear to light a fire under your asses, but instead you decided to whine and complain, and that’s not who I want for my team. You think it’s funny to have a fucking parade to celebrate a so-called perfect season without a single win? Well, now you can parade yourselves on out of here.” He narrowed his eyes on the front row. “Jimmy, Steve, Mark, Scott, John, Thomas, and Clint, you’re all fired. Thank you for your time with the Mustangs, but I’ve decided to go another way.”
Jaws dropped, and silence fell.
“Is this a fucking joke?” Jimmy asked.
