Page 52 of Playing with Temptation

“Does she have a good relationship with her father now?”

“She can barely tolerate being in the same room with him.”

“Then start there,” Bud said matter-of-factly, then thanked the server for the whiskey smash she handed him.

“What do you mean?” Nate took a sip of his imported beer.

“Help her repair her relationship with her father. Seems like that’s the only way she’ll let go of that fear and anger and move forward.”

He’d met Curtis Williams—Kendra’s father—once or twice while they were growing up. It was apparent neither of them liked the other. Nate resented Mr. Williams for abandoning Kendra, Dash and Ms. Anna. Mr. Williams clearly didn’t trust his daughter’s male best friend. He hadn’t seen or talked to the man in years. “Thanks, Bud. I’ll consider it.”

“Good. Now, there’s something else I need you to consider, so take a deep breath. Really think about this request before you reject it out of hand.”

Nate’s spine stiffened. “I get the feeling I should have ordered something a little stronger.” He hailed the server and asked her to bring him a Cuba libre, then turned back to his mentor. “Let’s hear it.”

Bud twisted his mouth, spreading his hands on the table in front of Nate. “We need to think of the future of the team here. You’re a critical piece of the team right now, as you have been for the past eight years. But we both know you’re nearing the end of the ride.”

Nate sighed. Bud’s words—though true—were like a punch to his gut. They were already looking past him. On to the next big thing. “Does that mean there’s no longer a place for me on the Marauders roster?”

Bud waved his hand. “Of course there is. In fact, I want you to take on an even bigger role in the years ahead. We need your skill and talent on the field. However, it’s even more important that you help us begin shaping the next generation of wide receivers. Build a team that can win now and into the future.”

Nate clenched his jaw, then took a few gulps of his beer. Bud’s hands were wrinkled and covered with age spots, yet Nate felt like the relic. “So, I assume you plan to draft a star wide receiver.”

“I do.” Bud’s tone was unwavering and unapologetic. “Doesn’t mean I don’t respect your talent and understand what a critical role you play on our team. It means I have great reverence for your smarts and ability. So much so, I want to ensure that our future generation of wide receivers has been mentored by the greatest wide receiver we’ve ever had.”

Nate finished his beer and handed his glass off to the server when she set his Cuba libre on the table. He took a gulp of it, letting the chilled cola, dark rum and lime juice slide down his throat. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he were on the sandy beach where he first discovered this drink, rather than sitting across from the team’s owner essentially telling him he was washed up and more valuable as a mentor than as a player.

“Well?” Bud took a sip of his whiskey smash.

Nate shrugged. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Bud’s voice was somber, fraught with disappointment. “We always have choices, son. I just hope you’ll take some time and think about my offer and make the best decision. One beneficial to you and the team.”

Nate nodded, meeting the old man’s gaze. “I’ll give your request serious consideration. I promise. I’d like to talk your proposal over with my team first before I commit.”

“Of course.” Bud nodded, steepling his fingers. “There is one other matter we need to discuss.”

Nate’s stomach roiled. He gripped his glass. “Okay.”

“I need your assurance that you’ve learned from this experience. That we won’t find ourselves in the same position six months down the road. Because if we do, I need you to understand that this conversation will go very differently.” Bud raised one of his furry eyebrows, punctuated by unruly gray hairs that pointed in opposite directions.

Nate nodded. “I have, sir. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

---