Power Play, page 2
“I don’t have a choice,” I told her as the limo wove through Manhattan traffic.
This was our second meeting with the league’s higher-ups, and it had been a long, grueling two days of meetings.
But I was done and about to head home to Los Angeles.
“I need to get home,” Sloane said quietly. “Johan and I are going to Slovakia to see his family.”
“I know.” I smiled over at her. “I’ll be fine.”
“You need another assistant. Someone local.”
“I know that too, but until I can find someone I trust, you’ll have to do.”
She laughed. “Thanks a lot.”
“As long as you’re available online, I’ll handle the rest.”
“You can’t do it all, Harper. You’re drowning in work as it is, and based on the backlash you’re already seeing, it’s going to be a long off-season.”
“I’m heading to the entry draft in Vegas at the end of the month, then I’ll focus on the back-office changes. Henrik and Victor are going with me to Vegas, so I won’t be alone.” Henrik Vanek was my new head coach. He and his fiancée were in the process of moving to L.A. this month, and I hoped to have a handful of trusted colleagues in my corner in the near future.
I would have preferred to fire my general manager immediately. Howie Fornier was a womanizer, an asshole, and didn’t share my vision for the team, but I didn’t have a replacement yet, and the truth was I couldn’t go into the draft without help. The Phantoms would have the first overall pick, since we’d finished dead last in the standings this past season. There was no doubt who I wanted for that first pick, but the waters got murky after that. So I needed Howie whether I liked him or not.
“Call Dom,” Sloane said as we parted ways at the airport.
She’d read my mind.
Although I didn’t yet know if I would be able to coax him to come to L.A., I knew who I wanted to be the new general. Dom Gianni had been a problematic player early in his career, with a temper both on and off the ice. Until his coach from college brought him to Las Vegas and helped him turn his life around. He was retired now, with a wife and a couple of kids. He’d been a scout for a couple of seasons, but rumor had it he didn’t like being away from his family as often as the job required, so he’d quit.
He wouldn’t need to be on the road that much as my GM, but from what I’d heard, he and his wife liked their life in Vegas and had a big support system. It would take some bargaining on my part to get him on board, so I planned to make him my first call tomorrow.
As soon as I was settled on the plane, I opened my laptop and found an email from my OBGYN.
“…if you’re serious about trying artificial insemination, we should start the process soon. Did you decide on a donor yet? I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re not getting any younger and with your history, we may have to try several times. I think you’ll have better success with a younger donor. Edward just didn’t have a high enough sperm count…”
I didn’t care about the other details, so I closed the email program and stared out at nothing, oblivious to everything going on around me.
I’d made the decision to have a baby on my own but pulling the trigger was harder than I’d thought it would be.
Choosing a random donor from a sperm bank seemed…icky. There was no other way to describe it.
A literal stranger knocking me up.
Without the fun of one-night stand sex.
I’d been through this before, so I knew what was ahead, and this time there wouldn’t be my kind, loving husband holding my hand. Cheering me on. Crying with me when it didn’t work.
Dealing with all of that alone, while simultaneously taking over the team and handling the shit storm that was undoubtedly coming my way once I started firing people, would be intense. Trading players. Creating a whole new internal vibe. It was going to be a lot. The timing honestly couldn’t have been worse.
I’d just taken over the team in March.
I was turning thirty-six in July.
Pre-season would start in September.
I didn’t want to wait another year.
But I might have to.
I didn’t see any other choice.
After a good night’s sleep, forty-five minutes of yoga, and two cups of my favorite coffee, I felt better. Like I could take on the world.
The first order of business was Dom Gianni.
So I called him.
“Dom, this is Harper Barrowman.”
“Hey, Harper.” He sounded friendly but cautious. “My agent told me you’d be calling.”
“Yes.” I paused, taking a figurative deep breath and putting my business cap on. “I have a proposition for you and wondered if you’d have time to discuss it with me.”
He hesitated. “I’m willing to listen to anything, but I can’t make any promises.”
“I had a whole speech planned,” I admitted, suddenly switching tactics. “But my gut tells me you’d prefer me to shoot straight.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t like game-playing unless I’m on the ice.”
“I’d like to bring you on board as my General Manager.”
I could all but see his eyes widen and feel his sharp intake of breath.
I’d caught him by surprise.
Good.
“I wanted to bring you and your wife to L.A. to discuss the possibilities and present an offer.”
“If you want both my wife and me to come, you’ll need to wait a week. This is the last week of school, and my wife is room mom. She’s got Field Day and the class party and while I don’t organize it, my presence is both demanded and required. According to the kids.”
I grimaced.
I needed him now.
Yesterday.
But if I gave him an ultimatum, I already knew his family would win.
“I can wait,” I replied smoothly, “but then I need to know if it’s at least possible. If you’d consider relocating your entire life to move to Los Angeles. I have several other people in mind, but I won’t pretend that you’re not at the top of my list.”
He hesitated again. “Can I ask you why? Why me? I don’t have GM experience.”
“No, but you have player experience and scout experience. The prospects you brought to the Sidewinders were top-notch, telling me you have an eye for talent and visions for a team. I also wanted to bring younger men into the organization, instead of the white-hair club that seems to rule the league. It’s time for a change of the status quo, and I’m not the only owner who feels this way. Money is money, and if you can afford a team, you can buy one. But management, coaching, and all the rest of it, it’s time for changes. More women, more people of color, and a younger demographic.”
“So you’re planning to clean house.” There was no censure in his voice as he said it.
“Yes.” Lying would be ridiculous if I wanted him to become my right arm. “If you take the job, you and I will work closely together. That’s part of the reason I want to meet your wife and build a relationship with her as well. No matter how forward-thinking I am, I know what the optics could be, so I want to make sure she’s on board as well.”
“Molly is a straightshooter as well,” he said with a laugh. “I think you two will get along.”
“Excellent. So, you’re interested.”
“When I heard you were going to call, I’d already planned to listen to your offer, which I was assuming would be either another scouting position or an assistant coach, and give you a polite no. But this is something I wasn’t expecting, so yes. I’m interested. I need more details, and Molly and I have to sit down and think about the logistics for the kids. Brian just turned eleven and Alyssa will be ten in December. They have a lot going on, including sports. They both play hockey, Bryan swims in the summer, and Alyssa takes ballet as well.”
“If you’re seriously considering the position, I have a whole package prepared. Salary, bonuses, real estate, schools, and more. I want you to want to be here. It benefits no one if you and/or your family is miserable.”
“Exactly. Can you send me salary information? There’s no point in wasting either of our time if the move to L.A. won’t work for us financially.”
“Absolutely. Give me your email and I’ll send you the basics.”
“And I’ll see you next week.”
“Tell me your availability and I’ll arrange the fights. Would you rather fly in and out in a day or spend the night?”
“Let me talk to Molly and I’ll get back to you.”
“Perfect. Thank you for your time, Dom.”
“You’re welcome. I’m looking forward to meeting you.”
“As am I.” Movement on the video screen covering my front door made me frown.
Oh, shit.
I had a visitor.
Gabe.
Christ.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to you soon,” I said quickly. “Take care, Dom.” I disconnected and stuffed my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. I hadn’t planned on seeing anyone today, so I was dressed down, with my hair in a ponytail and no makeup, which always made me feel half-naked.
What the hell was Gabe doing here?
He rang the bell again and I breathed in deeply.
On the rare occasion we saw each other, we were like oil and water.
I padded to the front door, wishing I at least had shoes on.
For some reason my bare feet left me feeling more vulnerable than usual.
Of course, the big, good-looking jerk had always made me feel vulnerable.
I opened the door with what I hoped was a friendly smile. “Gabe. What are you doing here?”
His lips quirked up in a cocky smile. “Moving in.”
2
Gabe
I almost laughed at the look on her face.
“Ex-excuse me?” She blinked, squinting in the bright sunlight.
“You said I could live in your guest house this season.”
“Yes, but… you’ve been living in the team apartment.”
“Yeah, but I gave it up at the end of the season when I went on vacation. That’s why I stored my stuff here. Now I’m back and ready to move in.”
I couldn’t tell what was going through her mind, but myriad emotions flitted across her face.
“I, uh, I’d forgotten,” she said at last.
“That was part of the deal,” I reminded her.
“The deal was me getting Brittany off your back,” she said. “Which I did.”
“And living with you for a season, until I decide if I’m going to retire or not.”
“I thought by getting Brittany to back off, your financial issues went away, and you could get your own place.”
I shrugged. “What you thought and what you said are two different things.”
She let out a frustrated huff. “Jesus Christ, Gabe. Do you know what it’s going to look like with you living here?”
“Like two exes who ended on good terms and are now working together?” I suggested sarcastically, arching my brows.
She frowned at me.
“Do you think I could come in for a minute? Or should we continue to stand in the doorway debating it all afternoon?”
She hesitated but then stepped back. “Fine. Come in.”
I stepped inside and followed her through a bright living room with floor-to-ceiling windows and expensive flooring. She’d done well for herself. Better than me, and my body took a beating every day. Which was why I hadn’t played since I’d been in L.A. A bad hit left me with yet another concussion, so the doctors had been strict about me not getting back on the ice until they deemed me ready.
“Shoes off,” she called over her shoulder.
I glanced down at my sneaker-clad feet and then slipped them off.
She led me into the kitchen and motioned to one of the stools by the island. “Have a seat. Are you hungry?”
She was nothing if not a good hostess.
“No, I only have a few minutes.” I looked around, taking in her open laptop and the piles of papers everywhere. The Harper I’d been married to a decade ago never would have left such a mess. She’d changed more than I’d thought in the years we’d been apart.
“So.” She lifted a coffee mug to her lips and took a sip, studying me carefully. “You want to live in my guest house.”
“I mean, I’m happy to live here in the main house, but I figure that might get a little uncomfortable for us, with one or both of us running around half-naked all the time. Well, for you more than me, probably.”
Her cheeks turned red, but her eyes flashed with annoyance. “Don’t do that, Gabe. You’re not going to come into my home, asking to live here, and be an obnoxious ass.”
Banter with Harper was always a blast, but I was tired and just wanted to get settled, whether it was here or somewhere else. Technically, I could afford to rent an apartment or condo, but she had promised I could live in her guest house. So why wouldn’t I take her up on it?
“Look, we had a deal,” I said. “Is it really that big of a deal for you to let me live in the guest house?”
She sighed, rubbing her temples. “No. I guess not. I just…”
“What?” I asked. “Just say it. You know I’m not actually going to come into the main house naked.”
“The rumor mill,” she said finally. “It’s going to go nuts. No matter how we handle it, the team is going to give you shit about living with your ex-wife. You went straight to the injured reserve when you got here, so you haven’t had a chance to play, but I can only imagine what they’re saying about me in the locker room.”
“You knew that was going to happen,” I said quietly. “Right? There’s no universe where you take over a pro hockey team—with your looks and those tits—and expect to be taken seriously.”
She bristled. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, Gabe.”
“Hey.” I held up my hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m not saying I agree with it, but people who don’t know you are going to take one look at you and make assumptions. There’s no way around it. Edward was, what? Twenty-five years older than you?”
She looked away. “Thirty-two.”
“Jesus. Well, you can get prissy all you want, but from the outside looking in, a woman in her late twenties marrying a guy in his sixties is only about one thing.”
She sighed. “Money.”
“Money for you, sex and/or a midlife crisis for him.”
“Is that what people are saying?”
“Of course.” I said it matter-of-factly, but the truth was, I’d heard much worse things. About her, about them, and about someone like her taking over the new team. She didn’t have an uphill battle; she had a trek up the side of a mountain at a ninety-degree angle.
“Shit.”
The sound of footsteps made her turn just as a voice called out, “Dad? I’m hungry!”
“Brandy.” I quickly got up, turning to my nine-year-old daughter. “I told you to wait in the car.”
“I’m hungry,” she reiterated emphatically.
“I know. We’ll stop for food on the way to Anaheim. Can you just wait outside?”
“Hi, I’m Brandy.” She ignored me and held out her hand to Harper.
My daughter was way too much like her mother, with selective hearing sometimes.
“Hello, Brandy. I’m Harper. It’s nice to meet you.” Harper seemed startled but smiled as she shook her hand. “If you’re hungry, I can make you a sandwich.”
“No, it’s not—” I began.
“Yes, please!” Brandy said at the same time.
Fuck.
I hadn’t wanted them to meet like this.
Honestly, I hadn’t wanted them to meet at all.
But I’d needed to know whether or not I had a place to live before we left for our mini vacation.
“I can make grilled cheese, peanut butter and jelly, or ham and…” Harper rummaged in a drawer in the refrigerator. “Either American or Swiss.”
Brandy wrinkled her nose. “I’m allergic to peanuts and I don’t like Swiss cheese.”
“Grilled cheese it is!” Harper didn’t seem at all put out as she got a loaf of bread out of a cabinet.
“Harper, you don’t have to do that,” I said, giving my daughter the stink eye.
She was oblivious though, happily perching on the stool next to mine.
“It’s no problem,” Harper replied, her back to me.
“Your house is pretty!” Brandy said, looking around. “Is this where you’re going to live, Daddy?”
“I don’t—” I began.
“He’ll be living in the house out there,” Harper interjected, motioning to the guest house, which we could see through the kitchen windows.
“Oh!” Brandy’s eyes widened. “It’s like a playhouse. It’s so cute!”
“It’s only one bedroom,” Harper said, glancing at me.
I nodded. “I know. Brandy won’t be here very often, and when she comes, we’ll be doing stuff like going to Disney. Which is what we’re doing today. We’ll be gone the next three days, then two days in San Diego. We’ll come back here for one night before I fly her home.”
“I’m little,” Brandy said, grinning. “I can sleep on the couch.”
“I’m going to buy a pull-out couch for next time,” I told her. “But I think we’ll stay at a hotel when we get back. The guest house is a mess with all my crap everywhere and there’s no food.”
Brandy giggled. “You never have food when I come visit.”
I playfully rolled my eyes at her. “Well, you only eat like, three things, so does it matter?”
“Five things,” she said primly. “Steak, chicken nuggets, spaghetti, pizza, and mac and cheese.”
“And grilled cheese,” Harper pointed out. “So that’s six things.”
The two of them laughed like old friends.
“Yeah, yeah.” I ruffled her hair.
I’d never wanted to be a dad, but once my ex had gotten pregnant, I’d fallen in love with the little blob on the ultrasound screen. The fact that her mother and I had divorced when she was just a year old hadn’t deterred me, and I’d done my best to be present in her life. It wasn’t easy, with me living in another state and on the road during hockey season, but I tried to be there for her in the off-season. Luckily, her mother, Tricia, looked forward to getting a break so she didn’t prevent me from taking her on trips or spending time with her.
