Page 7 of The Wedding Deal
“You have to try again someday,” Mom added, as if he needed a reminder of how close he’d been to being engaged before he’d been injured and every single part of his life fell apart. “If you need a push, I’m happy to provide it. Along with the names of a few lovely ladies who’d be happy to attend the wedding with you.”
“Oh, so I get a plustwo?”
She clucked her tongue at him, but she was also trying not to laugh, he could tell. At least he’d managed to add a smidge of happy to her night—he honestly was worried about how she was coping with her grief, and what would happen once the wedding stuff wasn’t there to distract her anymore. “How about I give you their phone numbers and you can call them up and see if you click with one of them? Then we can take it from there.”
Saying he didn’t have time to chat up anyone between calls that involved rebuilding the Mustangs was useless. Mom wouldn’t hear it or believe it. Even now, this conversation was cutting into time he should be dialing up associates.
For his mom, he’d take the time.
Cold-calling girls she thought would be perfect for him and getting stuck in awkward, too-long phone conversations? Not so much.
He could only imagine how much worse it’d be when he arrived back in North Carolina, where his entire family would also be “helping” to set him up. His family had always been close, but sometimes they were close to the point of being intrusive.
If he were smart, he’d find a nice girl to take with him so he could skip all the painful forced interactions with women they were definitely planning on springing on him. Then at least he’d get a choice.
Of course he hadn’t been on a date in months, and asking a woman to travel with you on a first date—to a wedding, no less—seemed either crazy or desperate. Or both.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said.
“Not an option. It’s a mom thing that never goes away.”
He smiled, in spite of it meaning she wouldn’t be giving up her matchmaking attempts. “I’ll see you on Monday, Mom. Just don’t book too many activities. I’ll have to do a lot of work while I’m at the hotel.”
“I’ll talk you out of that when you get to the beach,” she said with a laugh, and he shook his head, even as affection wound through his chest.
You’d think his family would understand, what with their football legacy, but like the staff he’d recently fired, they’d grown complacent. Too comfortable. And he wanted that for his family.
But for himself…he wanted something more. He wanted to take control of that legacy and not only return it to its former glory, but to prove he was more than a washed-up quarterback whose career ended way too short.
If he couldn’t break any more records on the field, he’d do whatever it took to ensure the team he’d just inherited did it on his behalf.
Chapter Three
Charlotte reached for her coffee cup, only to find it empty already. Her voicemail was completely filled, and her email inbox was spilling over as well. On top of all that, she was tired, her speed dating night to blame for the exhaustion and residual grumpiness. You’d think by now she’d be used to it. How almost any time a guy found out she worked for the Mustangs, they decided to quiz her on football facts, as if to test how well she actually knew the game.
She always passed; they did not.
Why, oh why, did I let Shannon talk me into going along?
At leastshegot two numbers for prospective hopefuls.
Since her brain made it clear it’d be on strike until it received more caffeine, Charlotte grabbed her mug and headed to the breakroom. The office was like a ghost town this morning, so many of the rooms dark, and the remaining staff walked around on eggshells, barely speaking above a whisper.
Naturally there was only a splash of coffee left in the gurgling pot, and in spite of the fact it’d be burned and taste like crap, Charlotte poured it in her mug before starting another batch. She downed the sludge, grimacing when the lukewarm substance formerly-known-as-coffee slid down her throat.
So not worth the caffeine.
She grabbed the box of Texas Tasters Buttery Crackers and shoved a handful in her mouth. Breakfast of champions right here. Bonus, they could double for lunch, and she had a feeling they probably would have to with how much work she had to do today. It was sad how often she skipped lunch, and how little effect it had on her tummy and hips.
Unlike Shakira’s, her hips did lie. They said go ahead and eat that, it won’t matter. And then they’d get bigger, and her clothes would get tighter, and with that in mind, she decided to go ahead and believe her lying hips anyway and eat more crackers.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder, freezing when it was Lance.
“There you are,” he said, and she automatically glanced around the room to see if she’d missed someone else’s presence.
She shoved the crackers to one cheek, cursing how dry they’d left her mouth. “Me?”
He cocked his head, one corner of his mouth turning up. “Yes, you. I was looking for you.”
