Page 82 of The Mistletoe Trap
Problem was, his solution to get through this bump in the road was to pretend nothing had happened. That way, their friendship could hurry up and return to normal.
As if normal was even a possibility after falling head-over-heels in love with your best friend. Akin to torture was more like it. As badly as she missed Gavin, she wasn’t sure she could rewire her emotions well enough to avoid being shocked every time she was near him, whether from attraction or pain.
“Julie O’Neill.” The female voice was steady yet comforting, and not that a woman couldn’t physically injure her, but her shoulders relaxed all the same. “It’s Charlotte James.”
The name tickled the hippocampus of her brain, and her temporal lobe searched its index as to why. The gap was too wide or the knowledge too vast to sort quickly—she was choosing to believe it was option two.
Julie removed as much of the chocolate chip blob on her pants as she could during her short walk to the door. Then she tipped onto her toes and stretched every inch of her height to the limit, cursing the fact that peepholes were made for tall people.
Dark brown hair was all she caught, but then the woman lifted her chin and the missing information clicked into place. Julie sucked in a deep breath and opened her apartment door to greet the human resources manager of the San Antonio Mustangs.
“Charlotte. Hello.” Julie glanced around the woman—for what exactly, she wasn’t sure.
“Gavin’s not with me,” Charlotte said, and damn it, that was it. Not so much because she expected him to be in the hallway, but because she craved seeing him as much as she longed to slug him for being such an insensitive ass.
“Good. I don’t want to talk to him. I was mostly checking to see if I needed to slam the door on him.” Lying had never been Julie’s strong suit, as had been proven several times in the past few weeks, and she highly doubted Charlotte was buying it.
Still, she nodded, understanding softening her features. Then she gestured toward the living room. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” Julie swung the door the rest of the way open, and Charlotte strode into the room in brown leather heels so tall that Julie could’ve easily seen through her peephole had she been wearing them. The cream-colored tights on her legs reminded Julie of the type of tablecloths Grams decorated with, only a bit funkier.
As soon as Julie closed the door behind her unexpected guest, she lifted her chin, bracing herself the best anyone could when they weren’t sure what was about to happen or why.
“Sorry to barge in like this, but I’m here on urgent business.”
Julie blinked. She even considered sticking her pinky into her ear to clear any earwax buildup that might be causing her to hear things. “Excuse me?”
Charlotte smoothed her hands over the large blue flowers printed across the fabric of her white pencil skirt. She’d paired it with a blue striped shirt and a chunky belt, and Julie instantly had style envy—she could never pull off that outfit, but on the beautiful, curvy brunette it worked. “I’ll admit, it’s a bit unorthodox, but my position encompasses more than most people realize. Plus, I’ve a vested interest in seeing the Mustangs in the playoffs, and I’m not even talking financially. I’ve been a fan my entire life, and I’m so sick of saying ‘maybe next year.’ You know?”
Julie nodded, more out of politeness than understanding. Honestly, she hadn’t the slightest clue what the hell was going on right now. A devastating thought slammed into her, one that caused her stomach to bottom out. “Is Gavin hurt?”
Charlotte tapped a manicured fingernail to her lips. “That question is subjective. His shoulder is healed, and he’s been cleared to play. But I wouldn’t go calling him not-hurt.”
If the wheels in her brain grinded any harder, Julie’s gray matter might start smoking, and thenshe’dbe the wounded one.
“Why don’t we have a seat, and I’ll provide you with a video that explains far better than I can.”
Logic didn’t seem to be entering this conversation anytime soon, so Julie figured she might as well go along for the ride. Curiosity had already gotten the best of her anyway.
Julie quickly punched off the TV and cleared the couch of her depression debris. Charlotte produced a shiny iPad. “I’ve cued up the video.”
“You came all this way to show me a video?”
“Well, we needed to ensure you saw it. Emails and texts can be deleted, unseen. A lot of human resources is checking boxes and filling out paperwork.”
Instead of taking the iPad, Julie merely eyed it. And not solely because it didn’t have a protective case. “You know that I don’t work for the Mustangs, right?”
Charlotte laughed, her professional façade cracking the tiniest bit. “I’m at least that good at my job. But there are a lot of moving pieces behind the scenes in the NFL. One of the things I love most about working for the Mustangs since Lance took over is how much we focus on every player on our team, from the guys on the roster to the people working in the front offices. And I’m sure you’ve watched enough football to have realized the QB is more than the person who throws the ball. He’s our glue.”
“So thisisabout Gavin, then.”
Charlotte placed the iPad in Julie’s hands, pausing to give one of them an encouraging squeeze. “Press play, and you’ll find out.”
With a shaky finger, Julie tapped the sideways triangle. In spite of her attempt to steel herself, she was far from steady when Gavin’s face appeared on the screen.
“Hey, Jules. Please don’t turn off the video—Charlotte can’t leave until you’ve seen the entire thing, and she’d be super sad if she had to miss the big game.”
“He’s not wrong,” Charlotte added, and when Kylo Ren jumped onto her lap, she smiled at him and introduced herself.
