Chapter 13
Brian
I drag my forefinger across the wheel on the top of my mouse, causing the article I’m reading online to scroll down. It’s my last newspaper today—I read five a day online for general knowledge purposes—and I mentally calculate my next task, which is to review Gray’s trade report. She asked me last week to review her potential trade options for the team, with the deadline approaching next month. It’s not something she truly needs me to do, as she knows the talent pool far better than I ever could, but she asked me all the same.
I suspect it’s because she knows that once I stepped down as general manager of this team, my duties to keep me busy during the day were greatly reduced. Don’t get me wrong, as the owner and CEO of this organization, I have plenty to do on any given day. I work ten-plus hours a day keeping my business in the black and looking after my subsidiary interests. But she knows as well as I do that most of this well-oiled machine runs itself, and that I have a bevy of heavy-hitting executives who handle the details, giving me the perfect amount of information to let me rubber-stamp decisions.
Finishing up the article, I close out my browser and stare at the screensaver, which is a picture of Gray when she received her Olympic silver medal. One of the proudest moments of my life, and although there have been other moments since, and I’m sure more in the future, this one holds a special fondness for me because it’s where Gray finally committed to a life of hockey. While now it’s done from behind a desk, her experience from her years playing goalie have made her infinitely better at what she does.
My daughter Gray. My one and only for so long.
And now I have Lexi.
With a sigh, I consider calling Lexi to see how she’s doing, but when I talked to her last night, it seemed like she needed some space. This worries me, as she’s gone from a woman who was beyond excited to get to know her new family to a woman who has become guarded and reserved lately. I have no clue what happened, but I do pinpoint it to the game last week she attended in the box with Gray and me. From the moment she entered, she seemed distracted, and while she watched the action on the ice intently, I didn’t get any sense that she was truly excited to be there. That was very strange.
At the end of the game, Gray and I invited her out for a drink, but she declined, stating that she hadn’t slept well the night before and wanted to get home. I offered to take her and she accepted, but was unusually quiet during the trip. At the time I reasoned it was as she said—she was just exhausted—but in the past week, she’s continued to be restrained and withdrawn. I’ve invited her to lunch twice, dinner once, and she’s declined all three, stating she needed to work extra shifts at The Grind because they were short on help. I didn’t question this, but I did wonder why she didn’t perhaps invite me to come there and see her.
When I questioned Gray a few days ago about it, she brushed off my worry, stating that she was sure Lexi was busy. I also asked Gray if she’d reached out to Lexi herself, and she admitted she had invited Lexi out to lunch one day and had also gotten the same speech about needing to work extra shifts, but she just didn’t seem concerned about it.
So I’m trying not to be.
Perhaps it’s just she’s nervous because we are expecting the results of the DNA test any day, and maybe she has a sliver of doubt as to what will be revealed. While I don’t doubt for one second she’s my daughter, perhaps she’s just trying to remain a bit detached from us on the very slim chance her mother wasn’t being truthful with her.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts when my desk phone chimes. Connecting the call, I hear the front receptionist say in a low, murmured tone, “Mr. Brannon…you have someone here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment but seems confident you’ll see her.”
“Who is it?” I ask.
“She said her name is Georgia Mack,” she responds.
Instantly, my entire body tightens at the thought of that woman just mere feet away in the executive lobby. My pulse simultaneously fires along with a rush of adrenaline spiking through my system. To say I’ve thought about Georgia a time or two since our meeting almost two weeks ago is an understatement.
Leaning toward the speaker on the phone, I say, “Thank you, Claudia. You can show her back.”
Standing from my desk, I fasten the three buttons on my suit jacket and straighten my tie, although I have to restrain myself from running my hands over my hair in a desire to make sure it’s neat and presentable. But then I reconsider, because I’m getting ready to present a very buttoned-up, professional image to a woman who is wild, carefree, and seemingly not fond of this image I’m trying to project.
Shit.
I quickly unbutton my jacket, pull it off, and toss it over the back of my chair. Just as quickly, I unbutton my sleeve cuffs, thankful I didn’t bother with links today, and hastily roll them halfway up my forearms. My hand just gets my tie pulled away from my throat and loosened a bit when Claudia knocks on the door.
Jesus Christ, I’m a mess.
“Come in,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as nervous as I feel.
The door swings open and Claudia motions Georgia in, and I have to struggle to let my breath out in a controlled release. She looks amazing and I give in to admitting that I’m wildly attracted to her. I’m still put off by her brash manner, but there is no denying I like what I see before me.
Her golden hair is long and a riot of curls that hang over her shoulders and down her back. She’s wearing black jeans that look painted onto her body and tucked into black high-heeled boots that come up to her knees. I can’t see what kind of top she has on because she’s wearing a cranberry-colored leather jacket that sits above her waist but is zipped up to the bottom of her throat. She’s adorned with rings on all her fingers, and numerous bangles on both wrists. Georgia Mack is an untamed beauty with an equally wicked aura about her, and at this moment all I can think is that she’s the complete opposite of me, and yet I’m drawn to her for some stupid reason.
Her brown eyes—which two weeks ago I’d classified as warm—now stare at me shrewdly from across the expanse of my office as she says with that southern twang of hers, “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister.”
My body jerks in surprise and my eyes cut swiftly to my receptionist, who is now staring at Georgia with her mouth hanging open.
“That will be all, Claudia,” I tell her, and her eyes snap to me. “Thank you.”
She bobs her head, doesn’t give another look to Georgia, and backs out of my office, closing the door softly behind her.
Because I’m feeling out of sorts because of this unusual attraction I have to this annoying woman, and because she’s clearly here to “pick a bone” with me, I manage to straighten my shoulders and wave my hand at one of my desk chairs.
“By all means,” I tell her smoothly, establishing firm control of this meeting…well, whatever this is. “Have a seat.”
She narrows her eyes and stalks toward me, bypassing my guest chairs and coming right to the edge of my desk, where she slams her palms against it, the bangles on her wrist chiming merrily in opposition to her clear anger. “I want to know what in the hell is going on with Lexi, and we’re going out to lunch to talk about it.”
Immediate concern for my daughter overwhelms me. “What’s wrong with Lexi?”
“Well, we’re going to lunch to talk about it,” she says adamantly.
“We’re going to lunch?” I ask stupidly, thrown completely off-kilter.
“We’re going to lunch,” she affirms. “I’m killing two birds with one stone. We need to talk about Lexi and I’m tired of waiting for you to ask me out. You move at the speed of molasses and I’m not getting any younger.”
My head actually goes dizzy trying to keep up with her. She’s clearly pissed at me, feels I’ve done something to affront her, and yet she wants to go out with me? What little bit of control I thought I might have had with this woman seems to be slipping quickly from my grasp, and to save my male ego from taking too much more of a beating, I calmly say, “I don’t have time to go to lunch, but if you’ll sit down, I’m sure we can rationally and calmly discuss what has you worried about Lexi.”
Those brown eyes flash with something I’d label as indignation before hardening into resolve. I think that perhaps for a brief moment she’ll listen to reason and take my suggestion.
Instead, she merely pushes up from her leaning position over my desk and says, “No, thank you. I’m not interested in that.”
And to my utter surprise, she shocks me stupid by turning around and flouncing toward my office door. I watch her retreating form, my eyes dropping to her ass that is molded nicely in those jeans, stunned she’s leaving.
Worried she’s leaving because she’s clearly concerned about my daughter, as am I.
Disappointed she’s leaving because as much as I’m loath to admit, I’ve felt more alive these last few minutes with her trampling all over my carefully ordered world than I have in, well, forever.
“Wait,” I blurt out as I come around my desk and start walking toward her.
Thankfully, she pauses with her hand on the doorknob and flips her long, curly hair from over her shoulder to her back as her head snaps my way. “What?”
“Do you like Mediterranean food?” I ask as I put my hand into my pocket and grab my car keys.
“Does moonshine put hair on your chest?” she shoots back at me, her southern drawl peaking to its most acute sound yet.
“I’m going to have to assume so,” I say carefully, not having ever had moonshine.
She nods in agreement, turns the knob, and opens my office door. “Then assume I like Mediterranean food.”
With that she walks out before me and stalks down the hall, and I can’t tell if she’s still angry at me or not, but I do enjoy the view of her ass in those jeans as I follow her out to the lobby.
—
“So how about telling me what’s got you worried about Lexi?” I ask Georgia as I watch her cut up her lamb kabobs. She had informed me when we placed our orders that she normally likes to eat tabbouleh, but she didn’t want to risk getting parsley in her teeth on our first date.
I didn’t even know how to respond to that, so I’d ordered lamb as well.
Georgia puts a small piece of lamb into her mouth, and I try not to focus on her lips as she chews it daintily while she stares at me thoughtfully. When she swallows, she stabs her fork in the air at me and says, “You tell me. Since she went to that game with you and Gray last week, something’s absolutely wrong with her.”
“I know,” I admit with a heavy sigh, dipping a piece of pita into my hummus. “I’ve noticed it too. She’s been avoiding me this past week.”
“Well, what in the hell happened at the game?” Georgia demands.
“Nothing,” I say with a shrug. “Not anything that was obvious, at any rate.”
“All I know is that she’s sullen and crabby as hell with me, and if you know Lexi, which I know you don’t yet as well as I do, that is absolutely not like her. That child is the most effervescent, easygoing, and adaptable person I know. She’s been handling all of this with you and Gray with incredible maturity and optimism. And now she seems to be defeated, and all I know is you were last in her presence when this happened.”
“She was reserved at the game,” I say as I remember that night. I’d expected her to be jumping up and down in her seat, but she had no enthusiasm. “Not like when I saw her down near the family lounge before…”
My words trail off.
Lexi was fine then. When Gray and I saw her standing in the hallway, both pleased and surprised at the same time to see her there, she was genuinely happy to see us both. She accepted my hug easily. It was all good, until a singular moment of some awkwardness when she admitted to us that she was there by invitation of Roman.
I was surprised, of course, as I didn’t realize she knew him, but really didn’t think much of it. I was just happy to see her there.
But Gray had questioned her about Roman with a little more diligence, and was probably still doing so when I left for the locker room to wish the team good luck.
Had something happened then between Gray and Lexi?
I can’t imagine what it could be, because they were talking it up in the owner’s box as we watched the game. While Lexi was definitely a bit reserved as she watched the game, she wasn’t completely mute. She sat between Gray and me and talked with both of us. I didn’t sense anything bad between them at all, but still…something had to have happened between the time I saw her in the hallway and when the game started, because that’s when the change was noticeable.
“I need to see Lexi,” I say abruptly to Georgia.
“Of course you do,” she says with wink. “She’s at the coffee shop and she’ll be there all afternoon. I knew you’d jump into dad mode.”
“You did?” I ask, momentarily distracted from my worry by my curiosity.
“You’re a great dad,” Georgia observes. “I watched you that night at The Grind, watching Lexi. I’ve seen how you’ve accepted her at face value and with open arms. I’ve seen—through the media, of course—that you’ve already raised an amazing daughter. So yeah…I knew you’d jump right on figuring this out.”
Georgia smiles knowingly at me and turns her gaze back to her plate, cutting off another piece of lamb to put into her mouth. With no other way in this moment to solve my daughter’s problems, I contemplate this curious woman before me. Clearly she has my attention, but I can’t figure out if I should explore something or turn tail to run.
“What’s your story, Georgia?” I ask casually.
She lifts her eyes to mine as she chews, then swallows, a wide smile gracing what I’m thinking is a near perfect mouth. “It’s about time you got around to showing interest in me.”
I ignore her rebuke, starting to figure out she likes to try to work her way under my skin. Well, she’s firmly embedded there now, so I don’t take the bait, instead just cocking an eyebrow at her. “Well?”
Georgia dabs at her lips, which amazingly still have a perfect sheen of lipstick on them, and pushes her plate a few inches away so she can rest her forearms on the table. “Well…let’s see. I’m from Savannah, Georgia, originally. Came to Raleigh for my undergrad and decided to make it my permanent home.”
“What did you study?” I ask her.
“Nuclear engineering.”
Because this woman has point-blank told me some whopper stories before, I can’t help but say, “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not,” she says firmly. “I’m really smart.”
“Then how did you go from nuclear engineering to owning a coffeehouse?” I ask incredulously.
She shrugs. “It just wasn’t for me. Engineering, that is. I worked for a defense contractor in DC for several years after I graduated, and I hated it. The work was interesting, but I just didn’t feel fulfilled. I went to work every day and sat beside a lot of other really brilliant people as we developed and enhanced nuclear technology, and I came home every night just completely exhausted in my soul. It took me awhile to get up the courage to make a break from such a steady career, but I’ve never looked back since, and I don’t have a single regret.”
Now that’s goddamned impressive.
“Lexi said you have a son,” I say to keep the conversation going, now more fascinated than ever by this woman.
Georgia’s eyes sparkle and she leans in a little. “Asking about me, huh? I’m flattered.”
I don’t disabuse her of that, because although I didn’t specifically ask Lexi about her, I do like the fact I’ve apparently flattered her. So I merely give her a sly smile that she can take how she wants and push at her, “Lexi says he lives out west.”
Georgia sighs dramatically and waves her hand at me. “I love him to death, but he’s also the bane of my existence. Let me tell you all about it while we finish lunch and you’ll realize how lucky you are to have girls.”
I laugh.
It’s deep and stems from genuine amusement. For the first time, I’m not guarded with this woman and I let her carefree spirit charm me. I think I can firmly say that this is a good first date, and yes…I go ahead and admit that this is a date.