Chapter 3
Garrett
This is the part they always fuck up.
“You can’t be serious, you just got here!” Paul Sullivan kicked off the wave of pleading and outrage wearing a look of disbelief. I patiently waited for everyone else’s shouts, complaints, and pleas to die down.
Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t enjoy crushing people.
I didn’t enjoy it on the field during my three straight years of MVP either. Just because I was really good at something, didn’t mean I had to like it.
In the end, it didn’t matter that I was the best in the business, you still couldn’t take the championship with a bad team.
You wouldn’t think it, but there was a surprising amount of carryover into the world of suits and ties. This stadium for instance, was a bad team. I knew it before I stepped foot out that helicopter.
I didn’t become the youngest billionaire ever by diving head first into bad investments.
“Here.” I handed the football back to Paul, then turned to walk down the staircase that would take me outside to my waiting limo. “I’d hate to break up the set.”
“Just wait a minute.” Paul rushed after me. He laid a hand on my shoulder and in a hushed tone he added, “Your father told me you’d at least hear us out.”
I snapped an annoyed glare at his hand, which prompted him to immediately remove it.
“My father is the only reason I’m here.” I paused, exhaled then continued. “You’re looking to sell naming rights for a stadium that’s only half built. The long and short of it is if your town can’t afford a stadium, then don’t build one. Why would I want to put my name on something that might not get made?”
A silence washed over the group as I turned back around and resumed walking. I reminded myself that it’s always best to leave after making my decision; nothing good has ever come from trying to explain my reasoning.
With a swish of air the door closed behind me, ending my obligation to my father. I pulled my lapels a little tighter to protect against the chill. The sound of my steps on the concrete stairs down toward my limo rang out ominously, splitting the quiet cold air of the dead winter.
Another wasted evening…
At least that tall blonde was nice to look at.
“Hey!” A voice cried out behind me.
I didn’t bother stopping. I’d said everything I needed to say.
“Hey, jerk.” The cute blond from earlier, jogged up and stepped in front of me, blocking my path. She didn’t seem at a loss for words now. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Her champagne-colored hair was neatly pinned in a French up do. She wore a white dress with gold jewelry that was a little too cocktail party for a business meeting. But who was I to talk?
My original attire was a parachute.
She had these sparkling green eyes, and they were flared with anger.
I studied the woman and could only smile in response. “You know who I am.”
“Yeah.” She said, briskly. “Garrett Walker. You’re some big, dumb jock that likes to ruin people. Good people that are trying to look out for their community. You obviously didn’t want to be here with your ten-cent questions and your too-cool-for-school attitude.”
“This…isn’t how you’re supposed to argue a point.” I regarded her curiously and couldn't help cracking a grin at the way she spoke. Too-cool-for-school? Was she sent out as some last ditch effort, or did she chase after me on her own?
“I don’t care. This might not matter to you, but this is our livelihood, and not just mine and my family, but the whole town. Since the factories started moving away, Caldwell Hope has turned into a tourist-based economy. We need this stadium.”
She was a few steps below me on the stairs, which made me tower over her.
“You shouldn’t have built it in the first place.” I’d had to harden myself over the years since Heidi. I did only what was necessary now. “That's not my problem.”
“How can you be so cruel?”
“Cruel?” I cocked my head, accusingly. In business, it was always better to tear the Band-Aid off fast rather than slow. I wasn't cruel, I was efficient. “I didn’t tell you to overreach. You have a ski resort. That should be enough. When times are tight financially you don’t expand.”
I took a step down, intent on passing her on the stairs, but she matched me by walking backwards. Her shoes crackled against the blue, de-icer covered steps.
“Y’know.” She called out to me. Her foot skipped off her next step down, but she caught herself on the one below it. “I remember seeing an interview of you back when you played football. Everyone loved you. What happened to turn you so cold?”
“It's a cold world,” I pulled my coat closed tighter. “I adapted.”
That stopped her backward decent enough that I could finally walk past her.
“I understand now why they call you the Grim Reaper,” Judy’s disgusted tone bothered me more than I cared to admit. She reached out to shove me as I passed. “You're a cold hearted sonofa—”
Her shove knocked her off balance and sent her falling up the stairs. I was already too far away.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I snapped a hand out and caught her by the wrist. Her glove was too loose and slide right off. I had to pivot, really reach in and wrap a hand around her waist. I caught her just before she busted her ass on the stairs.
It would've made for a great tackle.
Or a dance move.
“Are you alright?” I asked, pushing the weird sense of déjà vu out of my head. Had we ever done this before? No. That was impossible. I just met this woman. The only thing that mattered was that I had her now. She was completely safe.
“Thank you,” she stammered, wide eyed. Her breathing spiked with the abruptness of the fall, and an even quicker catch. “I mean yes.” Her pulse was still racing, but her beautiful green eyes began to narrow. “I mean what do you care?”
She tore away from me and pulled her glove out my hand.
“I'm not a monster, Judy. I'm just...” That's when I noticed her one uncovered hand had a birthmark right above her thumbnail... It couldn't be, could it?
The blond hair, her figure, the sound of her voice, the crescent shaped birthmark, it all came back to me. It was her; my dance partner from the masquerade.
I didn't believe in fate or second chances. I never had to. I made my own luck. But could this really be a coincidence?
“Three days.” I turned away from her.
“What?” Her hostility turned into curiosity.
“You have three days to change my mind.”