Page 24 of Blindsided

While I didn’t understand what was being negotiated most of the time they went back and forth about one thing or another, I gained an appreciation for Lincoln’s skill set. I’d never met a non-attorney that could fluster an actual attorney, especially one that dealt with complex contract negotiations, yet after the third time Lincoln spoke up, the attorneys in the room bristled in their seats whenever he interrupted for clarification or because he didn’t like the way something was worded.

I had no idea how Lincoln did it, but he made legalese hot.

That didn’t change how long the meeting dragged on. Lunch had been delivered to the office sometime after noon, and I’d taken the opportunity to shoot Brax a quick text.

No way in hell am I making it back to your place before my flight. This meeting is taking forever. Part of me won’t be surprised if it drags out another few days. But I have to go to Columbus tonight for a meeting.

Brax

We’ll drop your bags in the trunk of the car this afternoon while we’re running errands. Trev and I can figure out how to get the car from the airport. Just let us know where you parked.

There were friends, and then there were friends like Brax and Trevor who didn’t think twice about going out of their way to help without me needing to ask. Blessedly, he didn’t ask what my plans for the future were, because at this point in the day, I didn’t actually know. I wanted the position, but it was feeling more and more out of reach as the meeting wore on.

Our short lunch break had passed quickly and the afternoon bled into early evening and my eyes and ears began to play tricks on me about three hours before a contract was finally agreed on. When I finally signed the document, I didn’t feel anything but immense relief that it was over. I’d spent the better part of the day listening to people way smarter than I was negotiating a document that, in the end, didn’t sound much different to me than when we’d walked in the room.

The thing that had really changed was that I was going to have to go into my meeting with the Blizzard in just over twelve hours and tell them I was not re-signing with their organization, or with any NHL team for that matter, because I was officially the assistant coach of the Nashville Parliament.

Tom and I left the building to find the sun had disappeared from the sky and my time to make my flight cut frighteningly short. The elation at the contract negotiation being completed was overshadowed by the thumping in my head. Despite that, I gently elbowed Tom’s arm as I teased him lightly. “Remember, when you’re ready to strangle me in a few months, you were the one who asked me to come here.”

“Few months?” Tom parroted in disbelief. “Few months, nothing! Easton, I love you like you’re my kid. That doesn’t change the fact I’m already plotting ways to hide your body. Seriously, how the fuck did you know about the vacation?”

I lifted a shoulder, not bothering to look in his direction but amused he’d been thinking about it since that morning. “Like I told you, Brax found out and told me. And like he’s told you repeatedly, he wants—” My phone rang and I looked at my watch to see my mom’s number appear. I fished my phone out of my pocket. “To be continued. Gotta take this or she’ll have the National Guard out looking for me… Hey, Mom.”

The last I saw of Tom was when I waved goodbye before ducking into the parking garage at the Barrington. I desperately needed a change of clothes, a bed, and maybe a bottle of whiskey to process everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, I was going to be lucky if I had a chance to change my clothes between the time I arrived at the airport and the time I boarded my plane.

The next few days were shaping up to be no less daunting than today. I had a sinking feeling my life was going to be chaotic until I finally made it to Nashville. Even then, the chaos would just turn into a different kind.

CHAPTER 11

LINCOLN

“Seriously?” I stared slack-jawed at my phone.

Carissa’s head bobbed up and down on the screen. “Seriously.”

All I could do was whimper in defeat. “How the hell did Jackson mess up that deal?” I’d held the developer’s hand through the entire process before heading to Nashville. The only reason the contract hadn’t been signed before I left was because of a zoning issue that had made itself known while we tried to coordinate the construction deadline.

“Mom’s pissed. Grandpa has been screaming the entire afternoon.”

It would be a lot funnier to me if I hadn’t spent months working on the deal. Opening a Barrington Hotel in Dubai had been a long-shot dream at the start. Property prices were astronomical, space was limited, and only the most elite of the elite were able to acquire space in the most desirable areas. I’d wined and dined my way from property managers all the way up to developers and zoning regulators.

It had been an easy, sign-here-please deal that I’d thought even Jackson couldn’t fuck up. I’d underestimated my cousin’s ineptitude.

“So, how are things there, Mister AHL Owner?”

Lifting a shoulder, I managed to look more casual than I felt inside. “The last six weeks have been a lot of meetings. A lot of drafts, a lot of trades, a lot of elbow-rubbing with potential vendors, investors, and businesses.”

My sister smiled. “Sounds right up your alley. I’m sure you’ve got everyone eating out of the palm of your hand.” She flopped back against her pillows, then moved the phone so she could see me again. “Ready for camp to start?”

The question drew a groan from me. The last few weeks had been my chance to thrive in a world I knew very little about. Negotiations and networking were easy for me. Those actions were as natural for me as breathing. I’d been doing them since I was a child when I’d unknowingly used childhood innocence to close a deal I hadn’t been aware was happening.

With all of that going on, I hadn’t seen Easton since he’d walked out of my office after signing his contract. Daisy had kept me plenty busy with her regular meetings, bringing me huge stacks of documents or emailing me lists of websites to read through. It had taken countless hours over weeks and more times admitting I had no clue what was going on than I cared to admit, but I was finally starting to understand what was expected of me and what I needed to do as the owner.

This morning when she’d walked into my office with another stack of books, I had mentally planned my evening around going through more of the same. Then she’d dropped the stack on my desk with a smirk. “Some light reading,” she’d said as she took a seat in the chair she’d claimed as hers and crossed her long legs. “Time to learn about hockey.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing all this time?”

She’d had the audacity to laugh at my question. “Bless you, my sweet summer child.” Her tone had been nothing short of amused and her normally light southern accent had become a thick drawl. After a moment, she’d taken a deep breath and waved an invisible bug away. “You have been learning how to own a hockey team. Now you have to learn hockey.”

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