My chest tightens as I feel the pressure caving down on me.
“That’s what I thought. The message indicated that the two of you have been together behind closed doors. As you both know, this is completely unacceptable,” the coach tells us.
“Is it, though?” Maverick asks quietly. “Sheisturning my image around. The latest headlines have cast me in a positive light. My follower counts are climbing. Comments have skewed away from the negative and focused on how I’m back, how I’m making an impact, how my reputation is changing despite my slip-ups.”
I’m frankly shocked that he’s been listening during our morning meetings lately. I thought he was mostly just staring at my boobs.
It seems like he actuallywantsthis change. That he’s working for it.
That he wants me to be impressed with the turnaround.
I am.
Heartily.
I’m proud of the work we’ve done. I’m proud ofhim, and the pride beams from my eyes at his words.
But Coach Richards, on the other hand, is not. “Look, I don’t want to go to Nash with this, so I came to you first. Just deny it, take the warning, and stop whatever it is that’s going on so we can focus on the game. All right?”
Maverick is apparently choosing this moment to slip back into old habits. “No. It’s notall right. It’s bullshit. I can livemy life however I please, and if I choose to fuck my brand strategist or a teammate’s sister or whether she’s one and the same, that’s nobody’s business but my own.” He glances at me, clearly expecting solidarity. “And hers.”
My cheeks turn as red as my lips as my eyes widen at his choice of words.Way to sugarcoat things, jackass.
I close my eyes and blow out a breath. “Yes, we’ve, uh…beentogether. We’re seeing each other,” I admit. “It’s been nothing but positive, Coach. He’s opening up to me, and it truly is having a positive effect on his reputation.” I rattle off a few statistics off the top of my head.
Coach Richards stares dumbly at me. “It doesn’t matter. You’re employed by the team, which means the two of you cannot be together. End of story. Now fix it, or Jack Dalton finds out, and he’ll be the one to fix it for you.”
“With all due respect, he ended up marrying the person sent in to fix him. What if that’s our path, too?” Maverick asks quietly.
Oh my God.
Holy shit.
Marriage?
Is he serious right now?
I figured he never wanted to get married again after his first marriage. He just doesn’t seem like the type.
But he’s right. He’s turning around. Little changes here and there could equate to bigger changes.
Still. Marriage?
I mean…yeah, I’m falling in love with him. Or rather, yes, I love him. But I haven’t thought quite that far ahead. I haven’t put future meaning to those words.
But he’s talkingmarriage. That’s a serious commitment. Lifelong. I know I want to be marriedsomeday. I know I want to have kidssomeday. But…fuck. I didn’t even want toworkwith an NFL star a few months ago, never mindmarryone.
It’s just not how I ever envisioned my life. I never wanted to be a football wife.
But I want to be with Maverick.
It’s not like I can take or leave the parts I want and don’t. I get the whole man, and he’s a work in progress. I guess I am, too. Aren’t we all? I thought by the time I turned thirty, I’d have it all figured out. I blew past that two years ago and still don’t have a clue what I want out of life.
But I know what I don’t want, and that’s sitting in someone’s office having my career threatened because I got involved with a client.
What would Mr. Langford say?
He’d fire me, too. Would it matter? Financially, no. I have my trust fund to fall back on. I can use that to start my own business. But reputationally? Yes, it would matter. Very much so. I’d never be taken seriously in this business. I’d forever be labeled the woman who slept with a client. The world of publicity really isn’t all that big, and reputations stick with us forever. Nobody would take me seriously, and people would always wonder if any male clients I acquire were only on my roster because we were sleeping together. Or worse—I’d only attract male clients because of my reputation as a client-fucker.
