The door to the meeting room swung open, and the roar of noise only a room full of rowdy football players could produce quieted to a rumble.
Wes Lancaster, owner of our team, the New York Mavericks, and Georgia Brooks, head of marketing, were walking single file, and the look on Mr. Lancaster’s face said our clever, quirky promoter had talked him into something he regretted once again.
Quite the opposite, the look on Georgia’s face said I was going to find it entirely too amusing.
I nudged Cam Mitchell’s elbow, and he startled in the seat next to me.
“What do you think she has us doing now?”
He smiled. “Hopefully the adult version of the Miss Teen USA Pageant.”
About two years ago, we’d all headed to the Bahamas to judge a beauty pageant in the name of marketing and promotion, and it had been a shitshow to say the very least.
A group of grown-ass men paired with teenage beauty queens? Yeah, that event had been about as ridiculous as one might assume on the idea alone.
I chuckled and shook my head at Cam’s libido.
No doubt mine was stronger than his, but I exercised it by using it—not talking about it.
“By the look on Mr. L’s face, it seems more like Cirque du Soleil.”
Cam frowned. “I hope not. I’m definitely not delicate enough to fling myself around.”
Quinn Bailey, our quarterback and one of my best friends, laughed from his seat on the other side of Cam.
“Yeah, right, Cammy. Delicate is your specialty.”
“Shut up—”
A sharp whistle rang out just as Cam was gearing up to fight back. I patted his shoulder patronizingly but turned my attention to the front. Mr. Lancaster was glaring at us, and Georgia was smirking.
Basically, things seemed to be right on track. Still, I was employed by the guy, so I did my best impression of contrite, clearing my throat to rid it of any lingering chuckles. “Sorry for the disruption, Mr. L.”
He didn’t look particularly convinced, but he wasn’t calling me down to fire me either. I counted it as a win.
Any whispers hanging in the air vanished, and actual silence fell over the room.
“All right,” Mr. L started. “I know you’re all wondering what we’ve brought you in for today, and no, it’s not another seminar on social media.”
A small cheer rang out from the front of the room, and Georgia had to tuck her chin to hide her smile. As best friends with my sister Cassie, Georgia always had a higher tolerance for our bullshit than Wes did. After all, she’d spent nearly the entirety of her friendship with my crazy fucking sister training for it.
Mr. L cut his glare to the vicinity of the sound, and all exuberance died. I smiled.
“However,” he went on, “it does have to do with social media and a series of vlogs featuring the team with a popular up-and-coming blogger, so a quick recap of the rules wouldn’t be amiss.” He surveyed the room cautiously, and as he got a good look at all of our faces, his expression turned gloomy once again. He didn’t trust us not to turn whatever this was into a fucking cluster—not even a little.
Knowing what went on in the locker room on a daily basis, I couldn’t blame him. We were all a bunch of vagrants.
With a jerk of his head, he stepped back and opened the floor to Georgia. Some of the newer guys sat forward in their seats, eager to listen to our very pretty Director of Marketing speak.
I rolled my eyes and looked to Quinn. We both knew Kline Brooks, billionaire and husband to the fair Mrs. Brooks, and none of these little bullshitters stood a chance.
As professional football players, we liked to think we made good money. The kind that held allure and attracted women when we wanted it to. The kind we could afford to blow on jewelry or a fancy meal in the name of impressing a woman.
But we didn’t make jack shit compared to the man Georgia Brooks had legally hooked her star to, and it was funny to watch little rookie, puppy-dog players who had no clue.
“Okay, guys. I know we’ve gone over this a lot,” Georgia said, working the room by pacing back and forth and smiling into each of our faces before turning a brief, frustrated glance over her shoulder. It was obvious and comical, and its intention was clear—to tell Wes Lancaster, boss or not, she thought having her talk about this again was bullshit.
“But let’s just go over the basics again.” Still, he was the boss. “No inappropriate comments, no touching, no flirting, and absolutely no sexual harassment. Please, only discuss professional details that have been cleared for discussion, and remember the golden rule I’ve taught you.”
She put her hand to her ear to indicate we should supply it, and we all responded dutifully. “Always assume your grandmother is watching while at Sunday worship with a member of the clergy.”
She clapped her hands excitedly. “Exactly! I’m so glad you’ve all been paying attention. With that, I think we’re ready to bring in our guest, a woman you’ll be working closely with for the next eight weeks…Miss Six Malone!”
Wes moved to the door and opened it, holding it open gallantly as the woman in question stepped inside.
Pint-sized and packing a smile, Six Malone bounded inside with the energy of a toddler and the body of a woman. A really fucking tiny woman.
Her skin was a smooth, light brown, and her hair stuck out from her head so far it rivaled the length of her short legs. It curled and twisted, ending in perfect spiral ringlets, and the amber flecks in her chocolate-brown eyes shone noticeably despite the distance between us.
A new kind of silence fell over the room as her special something captivated us all immediately.
“Hi, everyone!” she greeted, the corners of her mouth nearly up to her ears.
The more I studied her eyes, the more I noticed how enormous they were. Her features were all that way, actually—bold and beautiful and large. They’d been told her face was their canvas to fill, and they were fighting valiantly to do it, but the job was virtually impossible.
She was petite, especially from up here in the fifteenth row of theater seating, and I wondered lightheartedly if she was actually small enough to fit in my pocket or if the huge room full of unnaturally big men made it feel that way.
“I’m so, so excited for this opportunity, and I’m hoping you’ll all view it with the fun and wonder that I do. This could really be something, and I’m going to need your help to make it that way. If not, I’m going to need some of your money to pay my rent.”
A ripple of chuckles traveled up from the bottom of the room like a visible wave of sound.
I glanced at the faces around me, wondering if this weird buzz she made me feel was widespread. Seemingly, it was. Smiles abounded, and men who never listened looked to be on the edge of their seats. Immediately, a spark of jealousy flashed in my gut and triggered some unease—I had absolutely no fucking reason to feel anything but annoyed by this woman. All she was doing was adding hours to my already busy schedule.
But I didn’t feel aggravated at all. Quite the opposite, really.
“Now, I know your boss wants you to be on your best behavior, and I totally respect that.” She glanced to Wes with a practiced smile before turning back to us and turning it into a real one. “But bad behavior gets more views. So, let’s do that.”
My eyebrows shot up as a bark of surprise filtered through the fifty-three men in the room and slapped Mr. Lancaster into displeasure. Georgia laughed outright, grabbing Wes by the arm and pulling him back. I wasn’t sure what he had intended to do—maul her?
“Kidding, kidding,” Six said immediately, sensing the room’s descent into downright hysteria and the impending risk to her physical safety. “But, seriously, don’t be too boring, okay? If you’re playful, be it. If you’re a big joke maker, tell me some. If you like to collect dolls, I’m officially afraid, but I’m almost certain we’ll get some attention out of that.”
I raised my hand before I even knew I was doing it. I didn’t know that I’d even spoken in the last dozen team meetings, but something about Six turned me chatty.
I just hoped it wasn’t a trend.
“What about you?” I asked without waiting for her to call on me, my voice echoing in the cavernous space. A whoosh of sound bloomed as all of the heads in the room swung to find me.
“Excuse me?” she replied, unsure what I was asking.
“What are you into?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Being funny and having fun—not the same thing, by the way.”
I smiled my sexiest smile—the one that always worked on women—and her eyes narrowed. I figured she was squinting to see me better. I was far away, after all.
“How interesting. I’m into having fun too.”
“Sean,” Georgia warned, and Mr. Lancaster sank his head in his hands. The rest of the room dissolved into hollers and hoots. Six’s calculating eyes never left mine.
“Okay,” she said, shockingly loud enough to be heard above the chaos, her eyes never leaving mine. “We’ll get started doing our individual introductory interviews, and I’ll need you guys in your uniform shirts for these. We’ll start with QB himself. And the rest of you…I’ll see you soon.”
Oh yes, Six Malone… You sure will.