Page 21 of Single Dad Dilemma
Her full lips tipped up at the edges. “Of course you will.”
Her big dark eyes met mine as she pushed the cookies in my direction.
“Does that mean I get to eat some since I’m carrying them back home?”
“No.”
My jaw clenched, and she noticed, her smile deepening like she couldn’t help it. On both sides of her cheeks were the tiniest little dimples, and my stomach went tight that I’d even noticed.
“Regretting the offer already?” she asked, fake sweetness dripping off every inch of her tone.
“Yes,” I answered grimly.
Chapter Six
Barrett
If there weren’t three perfectly serious women staring back at me across the conference room table, I’d have thought the entire thing was a joke.
I schooled my expression and took a quick glance at the clock. Eight minutes left in this meeting; then I’d need to be back in my office to take the call from the kids.
Pearl noticed. Her hawklike features sharpened at the small tell.
“You’re being awfully quiet about this,” she said. “Even for you.”
“I’m . . . thinking.”
Bridget cleared her throat delicately. “That means he hates it.”
The marketing admin next to Bridget ... I couldn’t remember her name, but she had a mass of curly brown hair and a small nose piercing that winked underneath the overhead light. “No, he doesn’t hate it. That’s just his uncomfortable face.”
I wasn’t entirely sure I’d ever had a conversation with her before in my life, but apparently she knew me well enough to have me pegged on that one.
“And you all think this is a great idea.”
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
Curly Hair slid a folder across the table. “Our social media reach went up by forty-two percent when we shared those clips.”
Jaw tight, I opened the folder and glanced at the numbers she’d shared. It was all neatly displayed in bright colors. Maggie would’ve loved it. Proof that her impulsive decisions yielded incredible results. With a flick of my thumb, I closed the folder, tented my hands on the table, and stared back at them.
When I didn’t say anything, the three women shared a look. Finally, Pearl rolled her eyes and slapped the table with her open palm, the bottom of her wedding ring clinking loudly against the surface. “If you take too much longer, I may die sitting here waiting, and I cannot tell you how pissed off I’ll be if I die in the middle of a marketing meeting.”
I exhaled slowly. “I hate it.”
Bridget smirked. The marketing admin deflated in her chair, and Pearl narrowed her eyes.
“Why?” she asked. “If you’re gonna break Wren’s heart, you might as well give her a good reason.”
Wren. Got it.
The woman in question pursed her lips, trying and failing to hide her annoyance.
“Wren,” I said as gently as possible, which is to say I was also failing, “I’m not sure I’m comfortable putting my daughter out there like that.”
She straightened in her chair and pulled another folder out, sliding that in my direction too. “I can understand that—but with all due respect, Coach, she’s already in the public eye. Last week, they showed her onSportsCenter’s top ten plays of the day when she took over your press conference.” I pinched my nose and sighed. Wren shared a look with Bridget, who nodded. “She’s a scene stealer. If we do something like this, we can control the narrative of how she’s featured in the public eye. We can highlight what makes her so great—her intelligence and her humor and the amazing relationship she has with the players.”
The second folder wasn’t data or neatly printed bar graphs. There were logo mock-ups, and a sketch of a set that looked like a talk show.
