The Quarterback_A New Adult Sports Romance ~ Landyn Page 5

  Angela looked to her left at the only woman who didn’t remind me of an actress. She had hair a deeper auburn than Helena’s fiery red, and it floated in soft waves over her shoulders. Out of the three dogs, this one intimidated me the least. She didn’t look at the prospectus. Just stared at me.

  I take it back.

  Angela Bassett and Meryl Streep were nothing compared to her.

  I refused to gulp.

  “Remember to meet their eyes and hold their gaze. A lot of confidence can be read in the eyes. Because this is your first assignment—and it’s a big one—their main concern is how you’ll be able to handle the pressure. Your plan is solid, in part because I helped write it, but I can’t generate your confidence. That’s all on you.”

  As Helena’s words played in my head, I lifted my chin. Confidence. I’m confident. I’m confident of this plan, I’m confident of my abilities—the ones I’ve yet to actually put into practice, but whatever—I’m confident I can handle Landyn, because he’s just a cocky jock and I’ll be in charge, and I’m confident that this meeting will end in approximately thirty seconds or I’m officially screwed.

  “We’re impressed,” the redhead said. “You’ll be on call, twenty-four seven. If this guy does anything stupid, if he strays from the plan, you immediately go to work. Don’t wait. Don’t call Helena first, unless law enforcement or a body is involved. Understood?”

  A body? A body? “Y—yes, I understand.” No the hell I didn’t! What did these people actually do? They were fixers, not cleaners. Uh, what if they know cleaners? It would make sense. The cleaners would get rid of the bodies and then the fixers would—

  “Rose!” Angela nearly yelled. “Are you daydreaming? Because you have a job to do, and you need to get started. We don’t get paid if the client isn’t satisfied…and they won’t be if you bust the suspense. You’re dismissed.”

  I hurriedly picked up my folder and mumbled an apology before darting out of the door like a scared mouse. I practically bumped into Helena, whose cool expression didn’t put me at ease.

  “A touch over ten minutes. Problem?”

  “Uh, no. They liked it.”

  Helena cocked her head to one side and studied my face. “Then why were you running out of there like you were touched by the fires of Hades?”

  “They told me to get started, so I…I’m starting.”

  Helena nodded. “Okay. Good job. I’m proud of you. Now comes the hard part.” We walked in sync towards my desk. “You’ll need to meet with both Rochelle and Mr. Gallagher and explain the program. I know you’ve already met them, but that was only an introduction. Now that Cerberus has signed off on your outline, you’ll present it and—”

  “Get their buy-off.”

  “No.”

  Helena halted and I skidded to a stop and turned around. “No?”

  “The client is not right when they hire us, or they wouldn’t need to. We’re in charge. You’re going to make sure they understand that,” she said smoothly, the underpinnings of her tone sending ice up my spine and goose bumps down my arms. “Especially Mr. Gallagher. Impress upon them the consequences of not adhering to the program. They’re spending a lot of money to rein in this douchebag. Don’t let them forget it.”

  I could’ve laughed. Rein in Landyn? The man was an obvious leader who forged his own path. He wasn’t a stallion who could be broken and made to behave—at least, that’s what I’d sensed after our first meeting. How am I going to make him do anything?

  I snorted. If I wore a short skirt and a pushup bra, I could probably get Landyn to do anything I wanted.

  I’d never…

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LANDYN

  “You haven’t even taken a snap.”

  “Say that one more time?” I laced my fairly polite request for Rose to repeat herself with an edge of danger. The flicker of unease in her gaze told me she’d heard me correctly. Be cautious, Little Mouse. If she’d done her homework, then she’d know I’d destroyed college quarterback records in every category that mattered. It would be nothing to bring her down. This mousy, inexperienced woman who thought she could tell me—

  “Whatever you think about your abilities—they were at the college level. Fact. This is the National Football League. It takes a different caliber of player. Most college QBs don’t end up as winners, and for the first draft picks? Odds are against you being successful. Fact.”

  Both my fists and my dick tightened. If she said “fact” one more time…

  My gaze landed the conference table between us. She on her back, and I on top.

  Fact.

  “You haven’t played one game, yet you’re partying like you’ve won the Super Bowl, gotten a fifty-million-dollar extension or something, and are a guaranteed Hall of Famer.”

  Wow. She’d hit every single goal of mine. Little Mouse wasn’t so naive. I shifted in my chair, but not even the plush leather seat beneath me could contour correctly, and I ended up just making weird, creaky noises. When I caught Rose’s raised brow as she stared at my lower torso, I decided being slightly uncomfortable in a chair would be a small price to pay compared to what I knew she’d say next.

  “If you could please open the folder, and we’ll begin. Team management, as you already know, wants to minimize any damage to the team’s potential reputation if…if a change would need to be made at the quarterback position in the near future.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Mr. Gallagher.”

  “Landyn.” Mr. Gallagher was my dad. I should’ve legally changed my name.

  When she didn’t immediately correct herself, I sent her a challenging smile. Come one, Little Mouse, you know you want to play.

  “Landyn,” she began slowly, “it would be irresponsible for management not to have contingency plans for their starting quarterback who’s determined to fall out of a new club three or more days a week.”

  Had it been that many?

  “Just like it would be foolish not to have second- and third-string players ready to play if the starters are injured.”

  I made a flicking noise with my tongue against my teeth. “Are you schooling me on how an NFL football team is managed? Do you own one?”

  “Have you started for one?” she shot back.

  Ouch.

  But the pain turned sweet as I heard her moan in my imagination.

  Except that didn’t last long. The poison from that sting simmered right below the surface of my skin until the pain became fuel for retaliation of a different kind. Our staring match continued, and I wondered if she was waiting for my permission to continue her presentation. I said nothing. If she wanted something from me, she’d have to take it—if she could.

  Rose cleared her throat. “So…ah…well…”

  “Do you need a minute?”

  Her gaze shot to mine. Her little nostrils flared and her jawline hardened. “If you open the prospectus, we’ll review your activities for—”

  “Wait a minute.” This was the second time she had asked me to open the folder. Activities? I flipped through the pages. “I thought we were going to talk about how you were going to spin the stories that are already out there.”

  “We are. This is how we’re going to do that.”

  “Huh? Summer camp? What is this?” My heart began beating uncontrollably in my chest. Children? I had to deal with kids? The only person in the world I felt any responsibility for was my sister Lacey. I glanced at my watch. She would be flying in this weekend to help me celebrate. “I don’t do kids.”

  “Mr. Gallagher—”

  “Landyn.”

  It’s not that I hated them, just that not a single bone in my body held an affinity for them. My childhood hadn’t exactly been a carefree time in my life. Mother had left. Father…

  My eyes strayed to my right wrist. The scar from his cigarette butt mocked me now, when it used to drive me to succeed. Kids were ashtrays. Nuisances. That’s what I’d learned growing up.

 
; My sweaty palms wet the paper I was holding. I’m never having any. Expensive, always in trouble, and brought out a parent’s worst facet of themselves.

  “Yes, summer camp. That’s the first activity. It’s a football camp, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. You’ll run some drills with them, show them the proper way to throw a football, have lunch with them, inspire them. Sound good?”

  That hopeful grin she wore drew my pity. The only thing positive about this activity was that I’d get to throw a football. To kids who wouldn’t be able to catch it. I groaned.

  “Kids aren’t all. You’ll be visiting a homeless shelter, and an assisted living facility—”

  “Okay, stop. Don’t I have to actually care about these people? That’s the point, right?” Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth upturned in a way that made me think she thought I was smarter than I looked. I’m going to file that away, Mouse. You’ll pay for it later. “To rebuild my image, I have to participate in activities that are near and dear to my heart. Those are the kinds of stories people want to read about.”

  “Well, what’s been near and dear to your heart has been boozin’ and kissing hot models.”

  I laughed. “Boozin’? How old are you, Little Mouse?”

  Her nose scrunched up. “Excuse me? Little mouse?”

  Crap. “Never mind. People like reading that stuff. I’m sure the magazines that sell those stories are flying off the shelves. I’m actually helping the economy in some small way. That’s commendable in my book.”

  She tilted her head to one side and gave me a pathetic smile. Me! She had pity for me!

  Her eyes did a quick scan of my face. “You enjoy hearing yourself talk.”

  “Well…I make sense.”

  She chuckled. A sweet sound that grated my eardrums and lit a pilot light underneath my drive to win. “Unlike your plan, which people are going to see right through,” I said firmly.

  “Landyn, your way caters to only a small segment of the population. Not the people who really matter.”

  I leaned forward, catching her gaze with my eyes. “Aren’t you judgmental?”

  She put up both hands. “Wait, you misunderstand—”

  “You mean the fans. The fans don’t really matter.” I sat back and crossed my arms.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I watched her round lips purse as the air blew out. She opened her eyes, all sense of frustration gone. “I mean teenage girls. The demographic that most enjoys reading gossip rags.”

  Eh, she had a point.

  “We’re trying to show you giving back to the public in a way that actually matters. Giving your time and maybe a little money instead of…” Her eyes widened before she looked down at her papers and pretended to be reading them.

  Was that fear I smelled? With a little bit of curiosity? She’s thinking about what I’m actually giving. “And what’s that?”

  “I’m sorry?” She refused to look at me.

  “We were talking about what you think I’m giving. How long I’m giving it.”

  Still didn’t look up, but she did unbutton her jacket and carefully removed it.

  “Hot?”

  Nothing.

  Hmm. Evasive little mouse. Still, I remembered being ten and catching one that was making a home in the walls of our house. He didn’t just need the right bait; he had to have the right amount of bait too.

  And I’d yet to hear any complaints about the amount.

  “In the next two weeks,” she began, “we’ll be going to at least four events, and of course, we’ll be cataloging how hard you’re practicing with the team. First in, last out is what we’ll need to show.”

  “I’m already first in last out,” I said, annoyed. “My work ethic isn’t on trial here.”

  “Okay, then… also, in case anyone criticizes the amount of energy you’re expending before the first game, we’ll do a piece on your recovery workouts. Upload that last one to Instagram. Speaking of Instagram, your feed will also get a makeover. We’ll delete all the pictures of you looking inebriated, as well as all the…women. They’ll be replaced with inspirational quotes that keep you motivated, workout videos, and pictures from the charity events.”

  “My Instagram is the real me.”

  Rose looked me straight in the eyes, her voice steady, cold. “This is still you, just a better version of yourself.”

  My gut felt like it’d been punched, yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away from this not-so-little-anymore mouse. I hadn’t taken the GM seriously when she’d mentioned having a fixer, and I certainly hadn’t taken Rose seriously when I’d met her.

  Now she demanded it. Respect. Obedience.

  Now my back was on the conference table.

  “I know this is a lot to take in,” she said while closing the folder. “But it’s simple. At MacCallister, Wembly, and Poach, we…fix messes. You’re a mess. This team needs a captain that’ll be able to handle the rigors of leading an NFL team. Right now, there’s little confidence that that’s going to be you. I shouldn’t have to mention what happened to the last QB that partied his way off of a team.”

  Yeah. Johnny Football. What ever happened to him?

  “I’ll leave this with you to review.” She stood and put on her jacket. “We’ll need to be at the camp tomorrow around ten a.m. I suggest we meet here at nine and drive together.” She smiled.

  “You afraid I’m not going to show up?” I could’ve punched out the back of the still-uncomfortable leather seat for my croaky voice. Instead I buried my back into the chair and crossed my arms, the only way I was able to say how much I didn’t want to do any of this.

  Victory glinted in her dark brown eyes. “Oh, I know you’ll show up. It’s just my job to control everything, and that includes our movements.”

  Our movements.

  Together.

  Moving.

  That sounded so… I shoved the thoughts away, still too pissed to think about ripping off that ridiculous jacket and tackling her onto the table. Great. I would only ever see one use for conference tables.

  “And don’t worry about access to your social media accounts. That’s already been provided by your lawyer and they are being scrubbed as we speak.”

  “What?” I practically shouted. I dug into my back pocket and pulled out my phone.

  She was right.

  The latest pictures on my feed where me in positions throwing the football, a shot of me running in Combine, a graduation picture. Squeaky clean and looking like I was on a mission to succeed.

  I already had, though.

  “See you tomorrow!” Rose said sweetly, her close-mouthed smile tilted in a charmingly vicious way. She practically pranced out of the meeting room, somehow with the confidence she’d lacked the other day. Did she think she’d won?

  I remained seated in this obstinate position, replaying that smile and lift of her chin when she turned her back. Dominance. That’s what she displayed. She was just the fixer! If anyone was going to call the plays when it mattered, it was the leader on the field. The quarterback.

  Me.

  Her back belonged where it couldn’t sting me—down on my bed. That smile transformed into a mouth open in ecstasy. Dominance to the all-time touchdown leader in collegiate quarterback history.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LANDYN

  Little Mouse was going to fix me. Turn me into a leader worthy enough to carry an NFL team. Rose smiled and nodded with more confidence now than she had displayed earlier in Rochelle’s waiting room, staring at me like she wanted to run and hide but her bottom was stuck to the sofa.

  I sat in the passenger seat of my car, arms folded, like a kid not wanting to be taken to school. Except that’s exactly where Rose was driving us. My eyes instinctively shot to Mouse’s ass, which unfortunately wasn’t any more visible than it had been when I looked five minutes earlier. There had to be something attractive about her if I was going to screw my way out of this mess.

  Well, she wasn’t ugly. Her la
rge brown eyes kind of sucked you in if you stared too long. And her smile was sweet and calming. Not someone who could just walk past a bouncer and into a club, but still didn’t need alcohol or the lights off or anything like that.

  Her hair could use something…like bounce. Down around her shoulders instead of back up in that hideous bun.

  Nothing I had said was working, so the next-best thing was to do the second-best thing I was good at.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  “Hmm?” I rested my elbow on the door and propped my head in my hand. Rose glanced at me and then quickly back at the road. She gripped the steering wheel at eleven and one, her back arched away from the seat. “Do you need to wear glasses to drive?”

  She touched her face as if to find glasses there. “What? No? Why are asking me that.”

  “No reason.” Only because you’re crushing my steering wheel like a grandma. I resisted the urge to laugh figuring it would only end in my extremely expensive car wrapped around a pole. I insisted she drive to put her off-balance. She hadn’t anticipated that.

  First rule of breaking down the enemy.

  My gaze shifted from the wheel to her breasts, their height accentuated by a red ribbon that sat snugly beneath them, the color a contrast to the lime-green dress. I hadn’t noticed them before now, with her matching green blazer removed and thrown in the backseat. The sleeveless dress hugged every curve of her petite frame. A step up from the boring button-up blouse she had on the other day.

  Definitely would keep the lights on.

  “I’m close to the wheel, aren’t I?”

  Lucky wheel.

  She appeared to force herself back into the leather seat.

  Poor wheel, but lucky seat.

  With a quick breath, she dropped her arms to ten and two.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, unable to keep myself from grinning at her. She looked so cute nervous. Just like a little mouse.