“Fuck my life,” I groaned.
“So I’m guessing it didn’t go well?” he asked.
“That’s an understatement. What team did you get her with? The Reapers or the Cougars?” She was qualified for both.
He scoffed. “The Hurricanes.”
“Major League Baseball?” Now I was shouting again.
“Hey, they’re in Charleston!”
“True.” I shook my head. “Okay, I have to go see if I can sort this mess out. Thanks, Wes.”
“I’ll tell you the next time I fuck with your love life,” he said softly.
“You won’t have to. Just fix yours, would you?” I hung up with my best friend and stared into space.
She’d given up her job with the Raptors. Left her father and all our friends behind. Picked up her life and moved it here because I was here. She’d done it all for me.
And I’d shoved her need back in her face and walked out on her.
London was right—I was an asshole. Savannah had been telling me the whole time in the boathouse that she was here for me, for us, and I’d only heard what I was prepared to hear.
I had to fucking fix this.
“Earth to Hendrix!” Sterling waved his hand in front of my face.
I snapped out of it. “Do you guys happen to know anyone on the Hurricanes that could get me into their corporate offices?”
Nathan smirked. “Funny you should ask.”
“Porter?” Sterling asked with a grin.
“Porter,” Nathan confirmed. “We’ll get you in, Hendrix. But you’re on your own when it comes to pulling your foot out of your mouth.”
I was more worried about dislodging my head from my ass.
20
Savannah
"That last clause in Porter's contract was actually a stroke of genius." Ethan Berkeley flipped the contract between his fingers, his light gray eyes scanning over all the lines I’d meticulously re-read three times the night before.
"I'm glad you think so," I said, standing a respectful distance away with my arms folded behind my back. I hadn't yet gotten fully comfortable in my new role as contract manager for the Charleston Hurricanes—the city’s MLB team—but I was trying.
And Ethan was a formidable boss. Respectful, direct, to the point. He had a no-nonsense attitude that I admired. But—
The door to his office flung open, shocking me out of my thoughts.
Maddox Porter himself strutted into Ethan's office, his chiseled chest puffed out tightly under his Hurricanes T-shirt, his black athletic pants hugging his massive thighs as he stopped before Ethan's desk.
Ethan dropped the papers and planted Maddox with a look that made a shiver race down my spine.
"Edith just gave me a call and said my contract is ready for me to scrutinize," Maddox said with all the confidence a star baseball player could possess. Maybe a bit more. "Here I am,” he said as if he were presenting a one-million-dollar prize.
I tilted my head, more like a six-point-two-million dollar prize but...
"I said I’d call when I was ready," Ethan snapped with the cold tone he reserved for his players. He was respectful to me, but the man certainly had a reputation for being an asshole on the playground. But I supposed wrangling a bunch of MLB players wasn't exactly easy. It demanded somebody strong enough to keep them in line. I wasn't going to pretend like I knew anything about baseball players and their lifestyles, but it was definitely a far cry from the NFL's lifestyle I was accustomed to.
"You’ve just barged into my office without an invitation. And rudely interrupted the conversation I was having with Miss Goodman here." He motioned to where I stood quietly, almost invisible on the other side of his office.
Maddox turned to face me, his dark eyes sweeping up and down with a quick and an approving smirk. Yes, I’d heard all about Maddox Porter. He was the unofficial party playboy of the Charleston Hurricanes with enough confidence and goofiness to melt the panties off half the state.
And while I could see the reasoning behind it—the confidence in his dark eyes, the chiseled jaw and perfect muscular physique—nothing stirred inside me. Nothing made my heart kick up.
I didn't want anybody. Even with Hendrix’s harsh and incredibly brutal dismissal of me, I still didn't want anybody else. And my dumb, disapproving soul continued to whisper to me at night with the hope that Hendrix hadn’t really meant what he’d said. That he just needed time.
I’d uprooted my life, accepted a job in Charleston, and moved into a new apartment I’d yet to fully unpack with the hope that if I gave him enough time, he’d find his way back to me.
He hadn’t yet.
Hope was for fairytales.
And I was an idiot.
"Well, I am sorry to interrupt," Maddox said, his eyes on mine. He was laying on the charm extra thick, almost as if he could sense it on me. That I was untouchable in a whole new way that had nothing to be with being Coach Goodman's daughter. "Is there a way I can make up for my grave offense?" he asked, slightly bowing as he glanced from me to Ethan, who rolled his eyes. "Dinner? Drinks?" he asked, but there was a glint in his dark eyes like he knew what my answer would be.