“Like the rest of us,” Dad said, “three years older than we are today.” He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry you didn’t bring this up earlier when we spoke. If Mr. Graham and Mr. Blanch are agreeable, the deal is set.”
“The original contract was one million for one year,” I said, “What are we now offering?”
Dad pressed his lips together. “This isn’t the time to discuss. I came to you earlier today.”
Closing my eyes, I exhaled. “Why wasn’t I told ahead of time that we were making an offer to Fin—Mr. Graham?”
“This is why you’re going to spend more time this year in football operations.”
I was seething, my blood boiling, as we entered the meeting room, Grant and Uncle Darin on our heels.
“Royce pulled this deal out of his ass,” Grant whispered.
His comment didn’t help my attitude. I still didn’t know the offer.
CHAPTER 9
Fin
Istood as Reid Hubbard, Vee, and Darin and Grant Marsh entered the room.
“Mr. Graham,” the owner and CEO of the Coopers said, offering me his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
“Likewise,” I replied, shaking his hand. While I’d seen his picture many times, as he’d said, it was our first in-person meeting. As we shook, I noticed he had Vee’s eyes, or more accurately, she had his.
There were other things I wanted to say, like how after over eight months of dating, Vee never introduced me to her father. She never mentioned that he was the owner and CEO of the Lexington Coopers. Or how shedidn’t disclose that she was connected to a football franchise. Yes, she’d told me her name, but how was I to know that she was one ofthoseHubbards.
Back then, to me she was Vee, my Abby.
Mr. Hubbard took the seat at the head of the conference table. Behind him was a large portrait of Carroll Hubbard, the man who purchased the Coopers in 1978. I’d also done my homework.
I sat to Mr. Hubbard’s right with my agent, Jackson Blanch, to my right. Royce Beasley sat across from me, Darin Marsh across from Jackson, Grant to his left, and Vee too far away. Even with the distance, I couldn’t look away.
Vee’s expression wasn’t what I’d classify as pleased. The muscles pulled tight in her cheeks and tendons strained in her neck. Flames simmered behind her green eyes, reminding me of the fire that burned within her. That didn’t mean she wasn’t still beautiful. While I preferred a smile, the serious vice-president expression was sexy as hell. My thoughts went to a sultry, nerdy librarian. Yes, that was definitely the vibe I was picking up. Seeing her jacket, one matching her skirt, made me smirk. That was one way to hide the beaded nipples. However, it was too late for that; the vision of the way her blouse tented in her office was imprinted on my brain. She may have her guard up around me, but that was okay. This little meeting confirmed that I had three years to wear her down.
Forcing my attention to the head of the table, Reid Hubbard’s words began to register.
“…impressed by your performance yesterday.”
“Thank you, sir. Andrew Pratt” —the offensive coordinator— “wants me to start working with more of our running backs, wide receivers, and tight ends. JD and I go way back. It felt like old times.”
“Tomorrow,” Royce interjected, “the offensive staff is planning on Fin’s working with Dennison, learning the routes and plays.”
“What about Simpson?” Vee asked, her forehead furrowed in question.
Royce’s head snapped her direction. “Ms. Hubbard, we can discuss that later.”
My neck straightened at the condescending tone in his voice. Before I could interject, Grant leaned toward her and spoke too low to be overheard. I knew what he was saying. Royce cut Simpson to increase my contract. It had been the talk of more than a few text exchanges. Simpson was a talented quarterback and a free agent. He’d be picked up before the preseason was over.
“Do you have any questions or concerns regarding the revised contract?” Reid asked.
“Only one,” Jackson replied for me. “Mr. Graham would like the option to buy out his third year, when that time comes.”
Vee crossed her arms over her breasts andhummed. Her pouty lips were pressed into a straight line.
“Ms. Hubbard,” I questioned, using the name she requested, “is that stipulation upsetting to you?”
She scanned the table and lowered her arms. “I’m concerned…” She met her father’s gaze before turning those gorgeous green eyes on Jackson and continuing. “Mr. Blanch, it seems that your client has an issue with commitment to one team. And the stipulation you mentioned sounds as if he’s already having second thoughts about the Coopers.”
