Page 81 of The Mistletoe Trap
The owner indicated the two extra-tall wingback chairs across from his large wooden desk. “Have a seat.”
“I think I’d rather stand,” Gavin said, and at that, Quaid’s eyes narrowed to razor-sharp slits.
“Are you injured again?”
“No, sir. My shoulder feels great, and I’m ready to kick ass this weekend.” Gavin meant that. He was just struggling with the execution, since his brain wouldn’t stop spinning over the woman he loved and how she might never speak to him again, so his life suddenly seemed extra empty and pointless. You know, typical football player shit.
Lance visibly relaxed, so at least there was that.
“Long story short, some of my teammates found out that…” Gavin rubbed at his neck. “They found out that my girl and I…”
All that time walking from the gridiron, and he hadn’t managed to figure out how to word it right. “I fucked up. It’s my heart that’s injured. I know that’s not your problem, and I swear I’m not someone who enjoys drama. For some reason, Coach Bryant thought I should talk to you about it, and the guys all agreed, and I’d wager a guess it’s just because they’re sick of dealing with my mopey ass.”
Gavin’s chuckle was supposed to downplay the situation but fell more into deranged territory. “On second thought, I’ll have that seat. Unless you’d rather I just go.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I don’t want to waste your time, and I’m sure you’ve got a lot on your plate.”
Lance raked a hand through his dark hair. “Go ahead and take a seat. As nice as it is that Bryant thinks I’m an expert on the subject of love, there were a lot of other factors involved when I pulled off my prank in an attempt to win back the woman I love. He obviously doesn’t understand how hard it was for me to swallow my pride that day, either.”
The pen Lance Quaid picked off his desk flashed as he wove it through his fingers, a dexterity exercise Gavin had done himself many times. He’d bet a pile of money it was a holdover habit from Lance’s own days playing QB. “If you’re at that same level, where you’re willing to do whatever it takes…?”
Gavin nodded. “I’m completely miserable without Julie. I love her, and I want to tell her and show her, and even if I can just get her to give me one more chance, I’ll take it.”
“Time spent in the pursuit of love is never a waste. Although, both of us will be better off if I call for backup and get someone in here who’s far more qualified to help.”
Using the end of his pen, he punched a button on his phone, and Charlotte answered.
Gavin had met the human resources manager first over the phone, during his initial interview, and then again when he’d arrived in San Antonio to sign the contract and fill out enough paperwork to cramp his hand.
“Hey, babe,” Lance said, reminding Gavin he and Charlotte were more than coworkers—they were engaged to be married. “You know how much I love your big, sexy brain, right?”
A soft female voice carried over the speaker. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or suspicious. It seems like you might be buttering me up, and I’m worried as to why. Especially since you’re doing so over the office phone.”
A lovestruck smile spread across Quaid’s face, and jealousy pinged through Gavin. He’d had that and he’d ruined it, and he could kick his own ass all over again for not recognizing it sooner. “Only following procedure, so HR doesn’t write me up. Office phones are for business, and that’s why I’m calling my favorite employee.”
“Then thatsexycomment was inappropriate, and do I need to read you the part of the handbook on favoritism?” Charlotte replied, and Gavin could hear the smile in her voice. It was the sort of happiness that came from talking with the person who knew your best and worst traits and chose to overlook all your flaws to focus on the strengths.
How frustrating that he could see so clearly only after he’d screwed up with the person who’d always done that for him.
As if Gavin wasn’t already drowning in sorrow, another wave crashed over him, and it was a good thing he’d taken a seat or his knees would’ve likely buckled and dumped him on the floor.
“Gavin’s not uncomfortable, are you?” Lance glanced up at him, and the jovial air fled the room, along with his wide smile. “Strike that. He is, but for another reason entirely. Turns out our star quarterback needs our help in the romance department, and from the look on his face, it’s urgent. I could use my Sam.”
Gavin had no idea what that meant but wasn’t going to pry—being here seemed too intrusive to people who had way better things to do as it was.
“My giant brain and I will be right there,” Charlotte said, her voice taking on an urgent edge. It was the steely resolve in her tone that Gavin clung to. “Don’t worry, Mr. Frost. I’m sure between you, Lance, and me, we’ll find enough fellowship magic to fix whatever’s been broken.”
Chapter Thirty
Julie was mainlining raw cookie dough while watching her third Hallmark movie of the day when the doorbell rang. The unexpected noise caused her to jump and squeeze the tube, and a glob of dough landed on the thigh of her yoga pants. “Oh, man. Now what am I going to eat for dinner?”
For most people, an unannounced visitor might not be an oddity, but no one ever visited her apartment. Not without notice, as in she’d ordered food to be delivered. Each one of her nerve endings pricked up, and she sat straighter and stared at the wooden rectangle as though she’d suddenly developed X-ray vision.
Instincts were funny things. They warned of impending danger, and while she’d always considered hers in tune, they’d failed her over Christmas break. She wasn’t sure she was ready to forgive them for that, either.
She glanced at the TV, dismayed that whomever it was had interrupted the moment the hero realized he’d bungled everything. The heroine was also having her own realization about how much she missed the man she’d accidentally fallen for.
Something Julie remained fairly certain happened only in the movies. When it came to dudes, anyway. While she could admit she’d broadcast her fair share of mixed signals—and that she hadn’t handled the fallout very well—she highly doubted Gavin was sitting around moping, eating uncooked desserts.
Not a huge surprise, considering he’d never wanted a relationship in the first place. Deep down, she knew she should call him and attempt a conversation. Or maybe she should start with a text, since his voice would only remind her of when he’d whispered racy threats into her ear.
