Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Darcy: Guess what? Aiden Sharp was dumb enough to keep the pet store receipt in his wallet.
Darcy: Guess what else? Mr. Sharp is mad that the team’s HR department doesn’t work Saturdays, because he wants to cut off Aiden’s salary and benefits “right this fucking minute.”
Zoe: Those slackers.
Darcy: Um… Aiden is also dumb enough to explain to his father what you did to deserve his abuse. Do you want to hear it?
Zoe: Oh please enlighten me.
Darcy: Mostly, he just wanted his buddy to have your job. But you also told Tremaine to try heat instead of ice on his hip, contradicting his authority.
You also turned him down for a date. Oof. He’s really telling on himself now. How is Chase taking this?
Zoe: Lots of cursing. He trusted Aiden, and he’s mad at himself.
Darcy: Same! God. I’m sorry, Zoe. I had no idea Aiden was a shithead.
Zoe: Not your fault!!! We don’t apologize for other people’s bullshit. <- That’s a Chase quote. One of my favorites.
Darcy: I knew I liked that guy.
Less than forty-eight hours later, Mr. Sharp summons me to his office for a formal apology.
I’ve been expecting this, and I dress nicely. Well, nice for a jock like me.
“Don’t sign anything,” Chase says, pacing his living room in a pair of low-slung sweats. “He might want you to promise you won’t sue or press charges against his dickweasel of a son. I just don’t trust Sharp. Or any GM, really. Their whole job is to be ruthless.”
“I’m not dumb enough to sign anything, Hotshot. That’s the one benefit of having once married an agent.”
“Sorry.” He stops pacing. “I’m an idiot. Of course you know what to do.”
I give him a smile and pull on my coat.
“Can I ask you a question?” He moves closer. “You don’t have to answer.”
“Okay?”
He takes both my hands in his. “Why’d you get divorced, anyway? I’ve been curious, but I didn’t want to overstep.”
“Oh.” I actually chuckle. “So many reasons—we were a terrible match. He lacked respect for me, and then there was the cheating…”
“Shit,” Chase whispers. “Sorry to bring it up.”
“You didn’t let me finish.” I shrug. “There were lots of reasons. But the one that matters most? He wasn’t you.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his chin. “If I’m not back before you go, have a good game tonight. Bess and I will be cheering for you!” We’re sitting in Chase’s comp seats together.
“Text me! Tell me what happens!” he calls after me as I head for the door.
“You’ll be the first to know.”
When I walk into the offices ten minutes later, Darcy’s desk is empty and her computer is switched off. In the middle of a workday. I stop and stare.
“Coach Carson,” comes a stern voice from inside the GM’s office.
“Hello. Sorry. I was just wondering where Darcy was? Is she sick?”
“I gave her the day off.”
“Really?” I squeak.
He sighs. “Yes, really. It’s been a trying time around here. Now close the door and have a seat, Miss Carson. We have some things to discuss.”
“Coach Carson,” I correct him as I take the chair opposite his desk.
“That’s more like it.” He smiles. “And I would like to offer my sincere apologies for the abuse you suffered in your role here with the Legends. I want you to know that I had absolutely no idea. And I am deeply embarrassed by Aiden’s behavior.”
Not bad. “Mr. Sharp, you and I may have our differences, but I know it’s not your style to sneak notes into lockers. If you don’t like someone, you save time and just shout in their face.”
I see a flicker of amusement cross his stony eyes. “You have such a high opinion of me, Coach Carson. And you probably believe I should broaden my viewpoint and concede that there may be more than one way to get through to the people who work for me. But the reason I yell is so other people don’t have to. Coach Fairweather never yells, because his players know without question that he is deserving of respect. And if anyone forgets, even for half a second, there’s always me to do the ranting later.”
Hmm. “So you’re the screamy cop? And he’s the nice guy?”
“That’s oversimplifying. But sure.”
I can almost see his logic, but that’s not what I’m here to discuss. “Aiden’s behavior has no excuse,” I say calmly. “Can I assume that he won’t be back?”
“You assume correctly,” he says with a grunt, his eyes dipping to the desk blotter.
For a second I feel actually bad for him. He’s going to have some difficult nights wandering around whatever mansion he lives in, wondering where he went wrong as a parent—like my mother probably does, but with a hundred dollars’ worth of single-malt scotch and better lighting.
“The shame of it,” he says quietly, “is that I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked to improve your coaching. Your latest scouting reports were top-notch.”