“Fine, I’ll meet you at The Purple Pig at six,” she said, turning back to the computer and typing so fast that I was pretty sure she was just striking random keys.
I closed the door as quietly as I could and then went back to my office to try and figure out how quickly I could hire the new GM and get him in here making all of these decisions.
Chapter Forty-Two
Payton
By the time I finished the scouting report I’d been working on for the past several weeks, I didn’t have time to go home and change clothes before Dax and I were supposed to meet for dinner. I grabbed my bags and headed out not long before we were supposed to meet, and I knew I was likely to be late. I thought about calling, but decided to let him sweat it out a little.
There was no question we’d grown closer over the past few months and that, in the past few weeks, we’d crossed a line I hadn’t anticipated or even wanted to cross. I liked him. A lot. There was no doubt in my mind that we had an intense physical connection; one that I’d never had with anyone else before, but right now I was mad at Dax for failing to see how valuable I was to the Storm organization. I knew I had a lot to offer and I knew he knew it, too, but I also knew that our sexual relationship had made it difficult for him to separate the business from pleasure, and it meant I was going to have to do it for him.
When I walked into the restaurant, the hostess greeted me with a big smile and handed me a large bouquet of brilliantly colored fall flowers before leading me to a table tucked far in the back of the restaurant where Dax stood waiting with a serious look on his face. I couldn’t help but smile when I thought about how Gram had told me how he’d developed the habit of brining her flowers whenever he’d done something bad — as if it would soften the blow of disappointment. I didn’t want to be mad, but I didn’t know how to get through to him how I felt about the Storm and football. I didn’t expect him to understand, but I did expect that he’d treat my passion with respect.
“Payton,” he said as I sat down at the table. I pretended to fuss with the flowers as I tried to hide the fact that every time I looked at him, I felt a wave of desire ripple through me. I wanted things to go back to being easy between us, but then I remembered that there was no us. We were a deal. A contract signed so we could each get something we needed. We’d been lucky to be so physically attracted to one another, but I had to keep reminding myself it was just lust and the rest was business.
“Yes?” I said as I looked up and felt my heart beat faster as he sat down across from me and reached out to take my hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I don’t understand your love of the game, and I’m sorry that I haven’t taken you seriously. I’m also sorry that I have to make decisions about the business that feel hurtful to you.”
“I understand,” I said, swallowing my disappointment. A part of me had come to dinner hoping that he had somehow seen the light and was going to tell me he had chosen me for the GM position. I knew it was a long shot, but the fragment of hope I’d kept alive now withered as he spoke.
“After we spoke, I realized it was unfair to keep asking you to do a job that you weren’t going to get,” he said. “So I called Al Mendoza and offered him the GM position.”
“I see,” I said fighting hard to hold back the tears that were threatening to flow as my appetite abandoned me. “I understand. Thank you for being honest and telling me yourself.”
Hearing the news was much harder than I’d anticipated, and as the reality of it hit me, I felt a deep sadness wash over me. I stood up and excused myself from the table, and made a break for the ladies’ room. I heard Dax calling my name, but the urge to escape was stronger and I fled. I locked myself in a stall on the far end of the bathroom and covered my face with my hands as I choked back the sobs of disappointment. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d wanted the job or how completely I’d thrown myself into it as I’d waited for Dax to make a decision. I thought that if I’d done it right, he’d notice and do what my mother refused to do.
Now, as reality came crashing in, I realized I was a 28-year-old woman who had defied her mother, gotten herself disinherited over a stubborn refusal to tow the family line, and now had nothing to show for it.
“Ma’am?” a voice called from the doorway. “Ma’am, are you okay? Do you need medical attention?”
“No,” I said choking back a sob. “I’m fine. Please tell my companion I’ll be out in a minute.”
I heard the door close, then murmuring on the other side followed by someone entering the room. I held my breath, not wanting to call any more attention to myself than I already had.
“Payton,” Dax said and I gasped loudly. “Payton, for such a smart woman, you really do miss out on the big things sometimes. You shouldn’t be so quick to draw conclusions.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked reluctant to come out of my hiding place.
“I was trying to tell you what happened today, but you didn’t hear me out,” he said tapping on the door. “Can you open up so I can tell you face-to-face?”
“You can tell me just like this,” I said stubbornly refusing to let him watch me break down while he told me about the new GM.
“Woman, you drive me crazy!” he said raising his voice. I could hear him moving on the other side of the stall and when he spoke again, he was looking down over the wall between us. “Listen to me, will you?”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Why are you torturing me this way? Isn’t it enough that I know I’m not in the running even though you and I both know I’m perfectly capable of doing the job? Do you really have to shove the new guy down my throat?”
“If you would stop shooting your mouth off and listen to me, you’d know that Mendoza isn’t going to be our new GM,” he said in exasperation. “What I was trying to tell you is that I offered the job to Mendoza and he turned me down. And when I asked why, he said it was because he’d gotten a better offer from the Cardinals and even if he hadn’t, he didn’t want to work for someone like me.”
“What?” I said, stunned by this revelation.
“Yeah, he said I’ve been informally blackballed by the league owners and that no self-respecting executive who wants a career in the NFL will ever consider working for me,” he continued as a smile spread across his lips.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because this means I can do what I wanted to do all along and say: fuck ‘em!” he replied smiling even wider. He asked, “Could you please come out of that stall and talk to me face-to-face?”
I opened the door and walked out, wiping my nose with a wad of toilet paper. I kept my back to the mirror on the wall, not wanting to see my swollen eyes and mascara-streaked cheeks, and when Dax came toward me, I ducked my head and backed away.