“Yeah, cool. Thanks, Dad. So, see you tonight? Seven at Tres Margaritas, right?” She still seems hesitant. It’s strange.
“You bet, kiddo. I’m looking forward to it!”
I don’t like the worried tone in her voice, but maybe she needs time to adjust to me being more present. I hope she comes around, especially if I can show her I’m serious about starting anew in our relationship.
“Okay, gotta go. See ya tonight,” she says before hanging up.
I sit at my desk, puzzling over her strange behavior. Before I can call her back to explore it further, my meeting alarm goes off, so I put my concerns about her odd behavior on hold and head to my meeting.
Chapter Three
Joslyn
Spoiler alert. My day has not been great so far. Not ten minutes after my arrival, I’m ambushed by my new assistant, Tad’s former assistant, who wastes no time informing me, in a tone dripping with scorn, that I’ll never live up to Kurt and Tad’s legacy. Apparently, her twenty years with the team entitle her to express her displeasure with my new position. She leaves no doubt about how she feels regarding this regime change. At least I managed to grab a cup of coffee first—thank goodness for caffeine.
She looks at me disdainfully, peering through the lenses of her wire-framed glasses, mousy brown hair pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head. The chain attached to her glasses swings from side to side as she shakes her head, disparaging my every request. Her sharp brown eyes watched me with disdain as I gave her a list of tasks for the day. Finally, she stalks off, her back stiff and her footsteps just shy of stomping, muttering loudly about dog hair and germs. In her eyes, I am quite clearly incapable of upholding the family hockey ownership legacy and am destined to fail. I also brought my dog to work with me. How dare I?
Judgy much, Miss Judgy McJudgerson?
I check my smartwatch and realize I don’t have time to dwell on Matilda the Hun’s attitude this morning. I have places to be. And yes, my new assistant’s name is indeed Matilda; A regrettable name for a regrettable person. She’s going to be a topic of conversation when Jacob and I discuss personnel, for sure.
I survey my new office with a sense of pride. Well, it’s new to me. This was formerly my late husband’s office, and it’s been vacant since his death. It desperately needs a makeover. The decor reflects his inflexible mindset—dark wood furniture, a whiskey decanter on the sideboard sitting next to a full bottle of scotch worth thousands, probably Tad’s, and an oversized leather chair positioned behind a massive desk. Because, of course, it’s massive. Everything is designed to intimidate and subdue, which is typical of Kurt. Leadership through demoralization—just like my marriage. I can’t wait to get rid of it all. I’d burn it if I could.
I’m looking forward to meeting our new general manager. He is young for the position and somewhat controversial, but he has some solid ideas. I’m eager to hear his thoughts on taking our team in a new direction. Jacob handled the hiring interview and paperwork while I wrapped up some loose ends at my daughter’s boutique wealth management firm for professional athletes. We’d already researched him extensively and agreed to hire him together, but I haven’t met him in person yet. I hope he’ll be a good fit for us.
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves before entering the conference room down the hall from my office, knowing I can’t show any signs of weakness here. I’ve learned that weakness is an open invitation for the jackals, of which there are many in professional ice hockey.
As I enter the room, I glance at Jacob chatting with Damon Hawk. Jacob, always the consummate professional, looks effortlessly handsome in his black tailored suit. I love how he’s giving a nod to the team with hisbright teal tie. It adds a lovely pop of color to his monochrome suit. He’s such a handsome guy, and I can’t help but be proud that he’s my nephew.
Damon’s never held a General Manager position, but we’re willing to take a chance on the right hire. He’s a former player himself, and he even played a few years with the Wolves at the beginning of his career, so we believe he’ll have a better rapport with the players. The respect he earned as the assistant GM for Boston in recent years has just added to his value. While the reactions to his hiring announcement have been mixed, we have faith in our choice.
I quietly take the seat my nephew has left me at the head of the table while they continue to chat. I glance at Jacob and raise an eyebrow as if to ask, “Why give me the lead seat?” He shrugs, a hint of mischief lighting up his light green eyes. Knowing him, he has a plan. Do I want to know what it is? Probably not. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. I roll my eyes at him and smile affectionately. I’m delighted to be working with him finally. He’s one of my favorite people, along with my adult children.
I turn to study our new employee, and the breath leaves my body in a whoosh. Oh my! Damon Hawk is seriously hot. His piercing blue eyes, filled with confidence, are framed by thick, wavy black hair with a touch of gray at the temples. It’s longer in the back but styled away from his face, showcasing his sharp cheekbones and square jaw, covered with heavy stubble. It contrasts with his lighter, slightly olive skin, drawing attention to his plush lips.
Dear Lord, this man is ridiculously good-looking.
He has such a commanding presence. He’s clearly at ease in a leadership role. I’m growing increasingly confident in our hiring decision. He’s precisely the kind of general manager we need to move forward. As an added bonus, he’ll look amazing at a press conference. Or anywhere, really.
He’s an employee! Be professional, Joslyn.
His striking blue eyes catch my attention, drawing me in. They widen slightly in surprise as he stands up, offering his hand.
Who has eyes that color? Like blue ice.
He hesitates for a moment before extending his hand in greeting. Perhaps he’s feeling nervous? I know I would be in his position, but he doesn’t give the impression of someone who gets anxious easily. Ignoring my speculations, I take a deep breath and hold out mine as well. A brief look of shock crosses his face as our hands meet, but it quickly transforms into warmth and determination. The jolt of attraction I feel when his hand covers mine is a surprise, but I don’t let it show. His handshake is warm and firm, but not crushing.
You can learn a lot about a person from their handshake, and his conveys strength and confidence without aggression. He’s not a bully, which is a relief. We’ve had enough of that nonsense with the Robertson brothers.
“Mr. Hawk, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Joslyn Robertson, one of the owners of the Wolves. Please call me Joslyn. We don’t run an overly formal organization here.” I offer him a broad, friendly smile.
I reluctantly let go of his hand. He’s wearing a team polo in teal with the Wolves logo on the breast pocket. It looks delicious on his incredibly fit body. My gaze travels up to his bicep. I vaguely remember him from his player days. I don’t remember him being this damn attractive. Of course, I had other things on my mind back then, like small children and a husband. Maybe he’s gotten hotter with age. Whatever it is, I approve. Jesus, look at those muscles. He seems hesitant to release my hand, but perhaps I’m just imagining it.
Wishful thinking much, Jos?
I shake off those thoughts and continue.
“I just want to say how excited we are to welcome you back to the Wolves family. I’ve always admired your hard work and dedication, and I’m thrilled to work with you on changing the culture here.”
