Page 3 of The Wedding Deal
Charlotte stood, a panicked gleam in her eye. “Now if we can all just keep calm, I’m sure—”
“This whole team’s a fucking joke,” Lance said. “And I refuse to be a punch line. So, as I said, the entire front row’s dismissed. Gather your things and go. Security will escort you out if necessary.
“As for the second row, you’re on thin ice. Prove yourselves or you’ll be looking for jobs with other teams as well. And if any of you’d like to resign”—he gestured toward the exit—“there’s the door.”
With his big speech delivered, he turned and strode out of the room. His heart beat faster, not from nerves but adrenaline. And okay, maybe a little bit of nerves. He had five months to restructure an entire team and have them up and running for preseason.
But he had contacts. There were plenty of guys waiting for a chance—both players and coaches—ones who wouldn’t squander it. This should’ve been done years ago, honestly. The older he’d gotten, the kinder and more sentimental his grandfather had become, and luckily Lance didn’t have those things to get in the way and cloud his judgment.
Once he was back inside his office, he reached for the whiskey decanter and glasses Grandpa Price had kept in the minibar behind his desk. Now he knew why.
The door to his office burst open and Charlotte stormed inside, none of the hesitation she’d done her best to hide during their earlier interaction. This time she was all fire and fury, and as his heart beat faster for another reason entirely, he again wondered how he’d missed her before.
The lid of the decanter clinked against the top of his desk as he discarded it. “Hello again, Charlotte. I’m guessing you came to commend me for taking care of things so thoroughly?” He shouldn’t stoke the flames, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. She claimed to want professionalism, so he’d go over-the-top with it and see how much she liked it then. “I told you I’d fix it so you wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore, and I always keep my promises.”
“That’s not how… You can’t just…” She pressed her fingers to her temples and began to rub circles there. “You said you were a reasonable guy.”
“I am. I gave them a chance to get it together. Instead they complained to you about my methods and how I’d dared to demand they do their jobs, which shows me they were too far gone for second chances. And considering our pathetic record, it’s more like their fifth or sixth chance.” The only reason he’d given the coaching staff a shot at all was for his grandpa, and he was almost glad they’d failed because now he could do what he’d wanted to do in the first place. “In order to make the Mustangs a team we can be proud of, we need to start over.” He picked up his glass and tipped back the contents, sighing at the way the honeyed liquid burned and soothed on the way down—it was the good stuff. He set down his glass and met Charlotte’s gaze.
Laziness was nearly impossible to overcome, but passion could be shaped and molded, and this woman had it in spades—even if he’d love to point it toward other areas of the company. “I’m hoping you’ll stick around to help me with that.”
She crossed her arms, emphasizing her curves and her frustration at the same time. “Because you suddenly have a whole mess of job postings to make that’ll result in hundreds of résumés to sort through?”
“Yes. And because of all the people in that room, you’re the only one who’s been bold enough to tell me what you thought to my face. I have a feeling you’re very good at your job.”
“Oh, I am, but I’m not sure you want to hearallof what I’m thinking.”
He poured a couple more fingers of whiskey before glancing at her. “Did you want a glass?”
A semi-insulted sound came out. “Drinking on the job? That violates section three of the employee handbook.”
He bit back a smile, because there was stoking the flames and then there was asking for something to be hurled at his head. Idly he wondered how good her aim was. “So that’s a no?”
“No, thank you.”
He lifted his glass, swirling it to keep his hand busy, even as his eyes remained on the woman across from him. “But a yes to helping me restructure the organization, I hope.”
Exasperation creased her features. Uptight wasn’t his usual type—although, it’d been long enough since he’d dated that he wasn’t sure he even remembered what his type was—but there was something about her buttoned-up manner and the way she recited the sections of the handbook that sent a flicker of desire through him.
One he quickly smothered, because he had a whole organization to restructure and he knew better than to get involved with someone from work. A big ol’ spotlight was being shined on him now that he’d taken over the team, and from here on out, he wanted to make headlines for winning games, not for ridiculous reasons.
He’d had more than enough of that to last a lifetime, and he’d be perfectly happy if he never had to speak to a reporter again.
“I need this job,” Charlotte said. “I’ve been with the team for seven years and worked my way up, and I don’t want to have to start over somewhere else. More than that, I love my job. Like I said, I’m good at it.”
“And you’ll have plenty of chances to prove that to me by posting the listings and helping me sort through the replies.” She hadn’t been wrong about him needing help with that. He’d prefer someone familiar with the organization and positions involved, but if she wasn’t willing, he’d find someone who was.
She gave him a saucy head tilt. “Oh, I have to prove it to you?”
“Sure you don’t want that drink? You seem kinda wound tight.” He lifted his glass in unreciprocated cheers, and she scowled at him. After downing the contents, he tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening the silk noose. “I’d rather not fire you, Charlotte. What I’d like for you to do is channel all that frustration, turn it into positive energy, and”—he smacked a palm on the desk for emphasis—“help me do what’s best for the team.” He gave it a beat to sink in before adding a disclaimer. “But I’m not handing out guarantees, either.”
The tactic he’d often used while on the field didn’t have her standing straighter and hopping to it. Instead his inspirational speech earned more of an eye roll. “Let me guess, there are no guarantees in football?”
“Exactly. More crying than you’d expect, though. Possibly more than in baseball.”
The corner of her lips quivered slightly, so she’d obviously understood that he’d thrown her modified movie reference right back at her. Clearly she wasn’t ready to fully give up her anger quite yet, either. “Fine, I’ll help you restructure the staff. But this doesn’t mean you’re above the rules. You can’t simply yell ‘you’re fired’ at someone and be done with them. There are forms and certain protocols, and I hope you’re prepared for severance pay requests and wrongful firing lawsuits that might be brought against you.”
“I’ll take your suggestion under consideration. But for now, I think we’d better get to work on those job postings.”
