Page 14 of Broken Play
"She's intelligent and has a ton of questions. Don't keep our boss waiting, and remember..."
"I know. No flirting."
I press my hands against the armrest and straighten my tie. I never wear this shit. But my big brother said we needed to go in with respect, which we do, but I don't believe she would have cared if we'd shown up in athletic gear.
When I tap on her office door that J.D. left slightly ajar, she doesn't look up but says, "Come in."
I push the door open, clearing my throat. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, have a seat. I hardly know where to begin. But let's start with you telling me about yourself."
I can always talk about myself. "I'm a quarterback. I've been a quarterback all my life, except when Tommy Salinas broke my arm during a monkey bar challenge in elementary school," I laugh, remembering the event that landed me in the hospital with a broken arm.
"And..."
"That's it."
"I don't believe that, Greyson."
"Well, I would bet if I asked you the same thing, you would say, 'I'm a tennis player. I've been a tennis player my whole life,'" I say, trying to make her understand my meaning. "It's the one thing where I know I'm the best. It's everything I love."
She flattens her lips, and her brows dip as she searches my face like she's trying to read the defense before she takes the snap. "So... when you were traded to the Armadillos a couple of weeks ago, how did that feel?"
I let out a short scoff and twiddle the peppermint wrapper before popping it into my mouth. "Like my wife betrayed me."
"I didn't think you were married." Her head tilts, and a teasing smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.
Crossing my arms, I lean back in the chair. "I'm not. I'm married to football. To the game." I'm only half-joking, but I've never met someone that I've wanted a long-term relationship with. "Back to your original question. I want to kick Denver's ass so bad that they come back begging for the Armadillos to trade me back."
"And is that what you want? To go back to Denver?"
Good question. Do I?
Like a good Boy Scout, I say, "I'm committed to this team and to my brother."
"Good. J.D. has agreed that the two of you will help get me up to speed on football jargon. I'll be at the camp, talking to the players. I want to run this organization from the ground up instead of from the top down. My first concern is how you'll be with your brother as your coach."
"He's been coaching me my whole life. My dad is the head football coach at LaGrange, so I never lacked for either of them telling me exactly what I did wrong. I'm used to it. Don't worry."
She seems to take my answer at face value as she scribbles something on her pad of paper. "What's one thing you would have changed about the front office staff in Denver if youcould have?"
"They were always secretive and wouldn't tell me if someone was on the trading block or if they were going to release someone. If I were in that position, I would want to know what the quarterback thinks. Does the QB think the receiver is worth every penny? You can't just replace chemistry. People have it or they don't." I wink, already breaking my promise to my brother.
"So, input. You would like to have some input."
"Yeah, I guess."
"I have one more question." She takes a deep breath and taps her pen against the paper. "When we kissed in Denver..."
"Did I like it? Definitely. Oh, but what was your question?"
"It's more of a statement. It can't ever happen again."
My lips twist to the side. I mean, I know we can't or shouldn't, but we have a connection.
"Yikes, you know how to serve a slice to a man's ego," I joke.
Her eyes soften at the tennis reference, drawing a grin from me.
