Page 10 of Hard to Hold

I slide my phone out of my pocket, scroll through my contacts, and have it ringing within seconds.

“Cannon Garner,” the head of MLS league development says on the other end of the line when he answers. For some reason, I fumble over the words on my tongue. “Hello? Lennox?”

Shit. Damn caller ID.

“Yes, hi. Sorry. I had a bad connection,” I lie. “I know we talked previously about the offer—”

“You mean the offer you turned down?” He chuckles.

“Yes. That one, but it was strictly because of my schedule, and it’s since opened up.”

“So something happened between now and when I spoke to your father two days ago? I guess miracles do exist,” he says sarcastically and knocks the ground out from underneath my feet.

He called my father again?

Chase lied to me. Either she lied to me or didn’t know about the call. Either way, my spine stiffens and my defiance fortifies.

“They do indeed,” I murmur.

“So what exactly do you want to know about the offer?” he asks with a smugness in his tone that has me shaking my head.

Yes, I’m asking for the job, Cannon.

“I was curious. We never went into specifics. What exactly do you believe I can bring to the organization to help promote it?”

He emits another low chuckle that makes me feel like I’m a mouse being toyed with by a cat. “Interesting you should call. I was sitting here pondering what my plan B was going to be considering you were leaving me high and dry by not taking my offer to work with me.”

“Plan B’s never pan out,” I argue playfully.

“Lucky for you, then, I hadn’t figured it out yet.” There’s silence for a beat before he continues. “I’d love to meet you face to face to discuss what value I think you can add.”

My eyes find the departure board again and scroll down to the flights headed to the City of Angels.

I hate feeling like a pawn in my dad’s mastered game of chess and know without question I’m going to take this offer just to prove a point—no one makes decisions for me.

“When would you like to meet?” I ask.

“What works for you?”

I rock back on my heels, knowing what I want and what I should do are two different things.

“I can be there by three today. Does that work?”

“It does. I’ll send over the address and information.”

“Sounds good.”

The call ends and all I can do is shake my head and laugh as I walk toward the ticket counter, well aware that he never answered my question: what he wants from me.

Los Angeles.

Sunshine, sand, palm trees, friends . . . and now possibly an additional responsibility.

The sunshine, sand, and palm trees are a given.

The best part about Los Angeles is my friend of eight years. Someone who knows everything about me so I don’t have to pretend I have it all together. I’m already in a better mood thinking of him, his goofy smile, and everything his presence seems to bring me.

Even better is the last one. A new professional role. One that will have me juggling my everyday KSM duties with who knows what Cannon will require of me. In his initial pitch, he told me the role would be small, influential, and for a limited period of time. All things I can more than handle with my current workload.