Chapter Twenty-One

As tempting as it was to get lost in Charlotte again and again, Lance’s phone refused to stop ringing. If he didn’t answer, it’d only ring more. Dropping off the grid would also worry people or possibly lose him the chance to snag a player he might need, and as he lifted the phone, despising it the tiniest bit, he had to work to keep a snarl out of his greeting.

Charlotte started to slide off his lap, their lunch/make-out break over, but he put his hand on her knee, holding her in place.

“Say that again.” He needed to know he’d heard what he’d thought he’d heard correctly. Because it sounded like the agent on the other end of the phone had said the Pythons were willing to part with their second-string quarterback.

Gavin Frost was a great player who rarely got game time—hazards of being backup for one of the top quarterbacks in the NFL.

Lance swiveled the mouthpiece and gave Charlotte the name. Her eyes widened. He loved how she automatically understood.

She slipped off his lap and began pacing the room, which struck him as funny since they’d reversed their usual positions for whenever he was on a call.

Excitement rose up, growing stronger with each second, despite his best attempts to tell himself not to get too carried away. Not to let his desperation show. “What’s it going to take to get him to play for the Mustangs?”

“Look, I’ll just lay it out there. He’s gotten a lot of interest. Money’s important, but it’s not what’s most important to him. We were both impressed when we heard the kind of changes you’re making, and he’d like to be part of rebuilding a team. What we both want is to find a place that’d make him a franchise quarterback, one synonymous with turning around the team. He’s scrappy and determined, and he won’t stop until he wins a championship, either.”

“That’s exactly what we’re looking for,” Lance said.

“So, make us an offer.”

“I’m definitely interested, but I need some time to crunch numbers and see what we can do. I’ll get back to you.”

“The sooner the better.”

“I hear you. I’ll be in touch.” He hit the end button, waiting a few extra seconds to make sure the call was disconnected. He was almost afraid to say anything or even hope this could work. He’d admired Gavin Frost’s college career and wondered why no one had snatched him up until the third round of the draft. He was a damn good quarterback who’d sat the bench unless he was saving the Pythons’ praised golden boy from injury or fatigue. That would’ve irritated the shit out of him back in the day, so he could only imagine how frustrated Gavin had been the past three years.

“You haven’t said anything,” he said, glancing up at Charlotte. She’d stopped her pacing, but she was biting her thumbnail, anxiousness radiating off her. His gut sank. Maybe he was wrong about Frost. If she told him she didn’t think he was the one, either, they might have their first huge disagreement about the actual team, and he wasn’t sure what that’d do. To them or to his head—it’d give him more doubts than he wanted to have about a decision this big, that was for sure.

Her eyes met his. “I was waiting for you.”

“I want him on the team.” Everything inside of him yelled yes all over again. There wasn’t a better option; he felt it in his bones.

She nodded. “He’s exactly what we’ve been looking for. And we can afford to lose a third-round pick if we get a decent quarterback with a few seasons under his belt. I’m afraid to say it because I don’t want to jinx us, but that thing I said earlier about the other guy not being…you know. Well, Gavin Frost, he’s…you know.”

Half the time he couldn’t follow her rambling or her references, but he perfectly understood what she was saying in this instance. The fact that she agreed and clearly felt so strongly about it sent reassurance rushing through him. “How do we figure out how much to offer so we won’t break the salary cap, lose him, or go completely broke?”

“That’s a question for the CFO. I know I said that before when we were talking about the lawsuit, but this is a decision like that times twenty. You need to call John.”

Lance could feel himself bristling, his shoulders crawling way up to his ears. It went against everything in him. Once he made a decision, he’d made it, and he dealt with the consequences, good or bad. “I told you I’d consider it.”

“The time for considering is over, Lance. You need to call him, apologize, and beg him to come back so that we have that information ASAP.”

Beg? Like hell he’d beg. His pride wouldn’t allow it. Not only was he shit at apologizing, his pride was one of the few things he’d kept all through his injury and even when his ex tried to break him in other ways. He’d be damned if he lost it now. “Just do what you can. I trust you.”

Charlotte slowly walked around the coffee table, perched on the edge of it directly in front of him, and grabbed his hand. She smoothed his fingers out from the fist he hadn’t even realized he’d formed. “I’m good with numbers, but I don’t have access to those records. Even if I did, I don’t know the ins and outs, and I can’t take on another job.”

She slipped her fingers between his, her calming influence breaking through his aggravation. “Even if it would mean not having anyone else to make uncomfortable at the office with all our PDA. Not that we’ll still be… I know we’re just taking it a day at a time, so I’m not saying…”

“I know what you mean.” He almost added of course we’re still going to be doing this when we return to the office, because now that he’d had his hands and lips on her, he couldn’t imagine going back to not kissing her. Not touching her. But there was what he wanted and what he could realistically do. No promises or guarantees, not right now. And if he couldn’t get a reliable quarterback, that wasn’t going to change for a long time.

“It’s too much pressure, and it’s unfair to ask that of me. It’d be setting me up for failure.” She was right. He hated that she was, but it was also why she was good for him.

“Fine. I’ll…call John.” He eyed his phone but didn’t pick it up. “I’m not good at swallowing my pride. Not good at apologizing.”

“Well, now you need to turn your team around. That’s part of being a leader, and I remember watching you on the field. You were one of the best at rallying your team. At leading them.”

She’d watched him play. She’d said as much when they were on speaker phone with Foster, and when he’d made a comment about it, she’d called him Mr. Ego. It seemed like a lifetime ago in some ways, but this time, instead of saying she followed football, not him, she was purposely stroking his ego. There was genuine admiration in her voice, too, and it went a long way toward helping him prepare for the hit his pride was about to take.

“One question before I make this call,” he said, dragging his thumb over her knuckles. “Back in the day, when you were watching me play, did you cheer for or against me?”

“Depended on who you were playing that game,” she said in that sassy way of hers that turned him on. Her eyes locked onto his, a whole heap of passion swimming the green of her pupils. “But I’m cheering for you now. So stop stalling and make the call.”

“Okay, but I just realized I don’t have his number, so I guess you’ll have to get your computer and pull up the personnel files. While you’re doing that, I’m just going to—”

“No need.” She lifted her cell, and he watched as she input her passcode.

“One-two-three-two? You deal with stats and numbers every day, and that’s the best you can come up with to secure your phone?”

She rolled her eyes. “I deal with stats and forms, and there’s only so much information I can cram into my brain, so I don’t want my phone to take extra effort. Also, I’m not falling for another stalling tactic—we should be in Texas right now because that’s how big of a staller you are.”

“I don’t think staller is a word. I do have another big thing you might be interested in, though…” He leaned closer and waggled his eyebrows.

The loud sigh wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. She pulled up John’s information and swiveled the screen toward him. He wrapped his hand around the phone but couldn’t seem to force his fingers to move.

Before he could protest or come up with another way to drag out the minutes, Charlotte hit the call button. “There. I even did the hard part for you.”

“That’s not the hard part. The hard part is—”

“Hello?” a voice said on the other line.

Charlotte moved next to him on the couch and gave his hand an encouraging squeeze.

Lance identified himself and then pushed through the skin-tightening sensation and forced words that didn’t want to come out. He told John he might’ve made a mistake by firing him with the rest of the staff. He revised it to “it was a mistake” when Charlotte mouthed it at him.

This call was akin to walking over hot coals, and he tugged on his collar and cleared his throat an inordinate amount of times.

“Is Charlotte with you?” John asked.

He glanced at her, the steady rock at his side. “Yes.”

“Can I talk to her?”

Lance passed the phone.

“Hey, John,” she said, the smile on her face flooding her words with sunshine. She asked him a few questions and laughed at one point, and all Lance could do was hold his breath and wait. “Okay. Putting you on speaker now.”

“We’re gonna build an amazing team,” Lance promised. “And again, I’m sorry that I fired you without realizing how badly we needed you on it. Charlotte informed me that you tried to rein in the other two.”

“That was my mistake, not being firmer. But my hands were tied. I’ve got a few conditions if I come back…”

Lance winced, sure it’d be a higher salary that he couldn’t afford to pay him. All the demands were reasonable, though. A five-year contract and better health insurance for his family. “I’m a die-hard fan,” he added. “Always have been.”

“Is that you saying you’re in?” Lance asked, needing the clarification.

“I’m in.”

The tension in the room eased, and judging from Charlotte’s grin and the loosening of her shoulders, she felt it, too. “Okay, what we need is—”

“Wait,” Charlotte said. “Paperwork first. I’ll email you a new contract, as well as an updated NDA. You can virtually sign it, and we’ll do the same on our end.”

Lance hit the mute button. “Do we have time for that?”

“The question is do we have the time to risk not having it. Spoiler alert: the answer is no. We’re talking about insider information, and while I know John and don’t think he’d ever do anything like that, you did recently piss him off, and I’m a forms girl. I want documentation and that extra protection for the team’s sake and for yours.”

Lance nodded, glad she had his back. For once, the forms did seem like a good idea.

Charlotte unmuted the call. “Hey, I’m sending it all now. I need you to turn it around as soon as you get it, and then we’ll need to hit the ground running, and I mean tonight.”

“You got it,” John said.

Within a few minutes, Charlotte had pulled up the necessary forms, made changes, and sent them off.

Another slew of calls came in, and Lance kept watching the clock, pacing the floor, and silently chanting for John to hurry up.

“Got it,” Charlotte said as he was wrapping up another call. “I’m dialing him up now…” The second John picked up, she launched right into everything they needed, starting with a decent salary for Gavin Frost. “And, John? Please talk fast. Lance and I have a rehearsal dinner to attend in an hour…”