“You played out your rookie contract in Atlanta but didn’t exercise your option for an additional year. You moved to Tampa. You were only with the Buccaneers a year before you went to Green Bay. Last year you spent in LA and never stepped foot on the field. Now, you’re here in Lexington. We can’t count on you for the betterment of the team.”
“Oh, you were talking football. I assumed?—”
“Well, don’t,” I said.
“And here you made it seem as if you hadn’t followed my career.”
“I haven’t,” I lied. “I did my research after yesterday’s game.”
His cocky grin was back. “Vee, whether you believe me or not, I’m happy to see you again. You’re next in line to own the Coopers. Your father or Beasley shouldhave informed you that we were in negotiations. However, if your knowing would have resulted in me not being offered the contract, I’m glad you didn’t know.”
“Preston is fun to be around, charismatic, and dependable.”
Fin’s smile quirked. “Sounds like a collie. Does he like it when you collar him?” Before I could respond, he was gone through the doorway. He closed the door quietly behind him.
Shit.
“Ugh,” I groaned as I made my way to my desk chair, collapsed, and closed my eyes. It was as if his handsome face was painted on the inside of my eyelids. Blinking rapidly, I tried to erase the image.
My thoughts raced.
To hell with Griffin Graham. Preston wasn’t a dog. Collar him? What the hell did that even mean? If Fin thought I’d welcome him with open arms after the way he ran away all those years ago, he was sadly mistaken. He obviously had a commitment issue.
Royce had signed him for one year.
One year.
I picked up the phone on my desk and pushed the button for Jen. She answered right away. “Connect me with Royce Beasley.”
“I’ll try. I doubt he’s available. Your meeting is in seven minutes.”
“Seven. Shit, forget it. I’ll talk to him there.”
If Royce was so hellbent on keeping Fin, he could increase the salary for the one-year contract, but I’d do my best not to extend the length. Grabbing the blazer from the back of my chair, I slid my arms through the sleeves, took my tablet, and hurried toward the Carroll meeting room.
Voices could be heard as I approached the open door. Stepping inside, I assessed that almost everyone was present—everyone except for Dad, Uncle Darin, and Grant. Straightening my shoulders, I spoke. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Royce, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with you.”
Royce quirked a shaggy eyebrow and nodded. “We’ll continue this once Reid arrives,” he said to Fin and his agent, Jackson Blanch.
Together, we walked back into the hallway.
“Do you have a concern?” Royce asked.
“I do.” This would be the first time I voiced my opinion regarding football operations. “I’ve reviewed Mr. Graham’s career. I think offering increased pay for one year is acceptable. Given his age and his record of not staying for very long with a team, I feel that offering him more than a one-year contract is a mistake. If we offer him two or three years and he decides to bolt after one, it looks bad for the Coopers.”
“These deals don’t just materialize, Vee.” He jutted his chin. “Reid can explain it to you.”
I turned, seeing my father approach.
“Is there an issue?” Dad asked.
“Vee has voiced an opinion regarding Griffin Graham.”
When Dad met my gaze, I repeated what I’d just told Royce and added more. “If other players see the Coopers as a revolving door, it will hurt us in the long run. Building a dynasty team is our objective.”
As Royce walked back into the meeting room, Dad reached for my arm. “I just got off the phone with Brad. The accounting department has been working all morning on this. We’re set for three years.”
“Three?” I shook my head. “Do you know how old Fin will be in three years?”
