“I’m not nervous,” I repeat.
“Right.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Let’s talk about how you can contribute to the Storm. Ross wants you as involved as possible and learning the ropes of team ownership, so I’ve had my admin forward you last year’s financial report. Knowing where the money comes from and where it goes isprobably the most important information if you’re going to own the team.”
About that. Come on. I like my bar, I like my quiet life, and I learned my lesson back in school: I am not meant for the sports world.
I’m going to give the team to Tate. Or sell it to him for a dollar. Whatever I need to do to wipe my hands clean. We don’t get along, but I’m not dumb—he’s the best guy for the job.
Tate doesn’t need to know my plans yet, though.
“While you’re still learning the ropes, you’ll be beneath me?—”
I look up in surprise, mind flashing with images of him on top of me in the most inappropriate way.
Not an unwelcome way, to my alarm.
“In the org chart,” he continues.
Is he teasing me? Or flirting? No. He doesn’t flirt. It’s so hard to tell with him sometimes, though.
“Fine,” I manage, my face going hot. “You’re my boss. Got it.”
Get a hold of yourself, Jordan.
“Team practice is at ten, so you can use that time to either familiarize yourself with the financials, or meet staff around the arena. Although, I’d be happy to introduce you myself later.”
I snap to attention. “I want to come to practice.”
He pauses. “Why?”
I’m used to seeing the guys in the bar, relaxed and laughing. Sometimes, if Georgia convinces me to come to dinner at her and Alexei’s house. I’ve seen their games online. I want to see them play in person, though.
“My area of focus should be hockey.”
Tate studies me before his expression turns polite once more.
“Fine. It’ll be a good time to introduce you to the team in your new role.”
Another set of nerves tumble around inside my stomach. God, why am I even here? It’s a joke. Everyone’s going to laugh.
He glances at his watch. “But first, we have a call.” He lifts the phone and dials.
“Good morning, Tate,” my father answers, and my gut dips.
“Morning, Ross.”
“Is Jordan there?”
“She is.” His eyes flick to me.
“Good morning, Jordan.”
My nervous system shifts into a higher gear. “Morning.”
“How’s your first day so far?”
I hold Tate’s eyes. “Fantastic.”
“Really.” My dad sounds surprised. “Tate’s showing you the ropes?”
