The Athletic Groom: Billionaire Marriage Brokers

by Lucy McConnell

  “Brian Tuttle —now that’s a guy you can build a team around.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. He’s going through some hard times right now, but he’s pulling through—the inspirational story type. And his performance hasn’t suffered. He’s a family guy and a true team player.”

  She tipped her head to the side, neither committing nor arguing with him.

  “Blake wouldn’t be bad either. He has a reputation with the ladies, but he’s interested in seeing the team grow and really compete in the league. He plays smart and the guys respect him. He’s looking to take his game to the next level.”

  There was a pause. “Isaac, what are you saying?”

  He held his breath. “I’m saying that we need to consider what is good for team morale and not just what is good for the team budget. If Jackson continues to poison the Redrocks, then he should be cut loose.”

  “We need him.” Her words tumbled out.

  “We need to be able to compete long term. He’s leaving at the end of the season anyway—don’t think for a moment that he’ll stick around. The one thing he’s working hard at is playing the victim, and he’s using your dad’s death and the new management to excuse his poor performance. Not only is he playing the media; he’s sinking the ship in the process. If we trade him before the deadline—”

  “We lose twenty million dollars.”

  Isaac shrugged. “You see it as a loss; I see it as an investment in the team.”

  A loud knocking at the door interrupted their quiet conversation. Isaac cursed whoever was there for breaking the feeling of trust that had permeated the room.

  He and Harper scrambled to their feet. He kicked the blankets against the wall and she threw the pillow at the foot of the bed. The place was a mess. After their marriage announcement, there were a few reporters looking for a scandal. Pamela’s people were good and the details of their wedding went unreported. Hitting a dead end and with no hint of foul play, the reporters backed off. However, he wouldn’t put it past them to pound on the door in the middle of the night to try and catch him and Harper off guard.

  “Who is it?” Isaac called through the door.

  “Hotel management, sir. We have a situation downstairs.”

  Harper looked through the peephole. She nodded and flipped the deadbolt. Isaac pulled the door open to find a thirty-something man with dark hair, strong Italian features, and a regretful look. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we’ve had several complaints about room 356.”

  “Who is it?” he whispered.

  “I have no idea,” she replied. Her eyes narrowed. “Give us just a moment to change and we’ll be right down.”

  Isaac nodded and shut the door. He scrambled for a pair of jeans, yanking his shirt off as he went. Harper yelped. He flipped around to see her staring at his bare chest, her eyes wide.

  “I’ll just … use the bathroom.” She hurried in, tripping on her way.

  Isaac grinned. He kind of liked seeing her flustered. Well, flustered because of him. He hadn’t thought a thing of changing in front of her, almost like they were really married.

  She came out wearing a huge Redrocks sweatshirt, tight jeans, and bare feet—and she was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. “Let’s go.”

  He bit back the words: No, let’s stay.

  The manager was waiting in the hallway and escorted them to the elevators.

  “What exactly is going on down there?” Isaac asked.

  “I believe it’s a party, sir.”

  “A party?” Isaac exchanged a look with Harper. “We lost; no one should be having a party.”

  She ground her teeth together. As the elevator door peeled open, the steady beat of a bass drum greeted them. “This way.” The manager pointed to the right.

  “I think we can find it. Thank you for your time.” Harper dismissed the manager and wove her way through the couples making out in the hallway towards the half-open door.

  She was stopped by a large guy with a tribal tattoo on his scalp. “Whoa there, princess, this is a private party.” Isaac hustled to keep up.

  Harper managed to look down her nose at the man that had her by a good six inches. “The party’s over.”

  “I don’t take orders from you. Jackson’s the one who hands out the cash.”

  Harper glared. “I’m the one who signs his paychecks, so if you want to have a steady cash flow, you’d better get out of my way.”

  He looked to Isaac, who nodded. “I’d listen to her, man—she’s ticked.”

  The guy checked over his shoulder. “I—”

  “Whatever.” Harper ducked under his arm and shoved the door open in one smooth move.

  Isaac moved to follow but was blocked. “Who are you?”

  He grinned. “I’m her husband.”

  His beefy hands came up. “Hey, man, I don’t mess with husbands.”

  Isaac patted his shoulder as he went in. “Why don’t you clear the hallway? We’re shutting it down and I’d hate for anyone to get arrested.”

  Stringing together a few choice words, the big guy opened his arms, his fingertips scraping the wallpaper on either side. “Take it home or get a room,” his voice boomed.

  Isaac cringed. At least the people who complained would know that the party was over. He paused just inside the room. Bodies pressed tight in the small space, pulsing to the music. The lights were off, but a small, somewhat pathetic strobe light came from the corner.

  Harper wasn’t anywhere to be found.

  Nervous that he couldn’t see her, he reached over and found the light switch. Women screeched and covered their eyes. Guys yelled obscenities. Half the room ducked like a gun had gone off. Isaac spotted Harper on the far wall, digging around behind the stereo. The music cut out and she came up triumphant, a plug in her hand.

  “What the …?” Jackson stumbled off the bed, his movements fluid and yet off. “Harper?” He squinted, rubbed his eyes, and squinted again.

  Harper glared at the groupies and fans. “Anyone left here in thirty seconds goes to jail.”

  Even in their inebriated state, the unwanted hotel guests knew what that meant. Isaac pressed himself against the wall to avoid being caught up in the flood of bodies bottlenecking at the doorway. He inched along the wall until he got to Harper. “Jackson,” she spat.

  “Are you surprised?”

  She wilted. “No.”

  The room cleared faster than the stands after a 12-point loss. “At least nothing was broken.” Harper’s hands went to her hips.

  Jackson stumbled their way. “You’re always a wet blanket.”

  Harper fanned his breath out of her face. “You’re drunk.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be golden by game time.” He swiveled his hips.

  She shoved him towards the bed. “Go sleep it off.”

  He fell onto the bed, face down.

  “And don’t leave this room until game time.”

  Jackson snored.

  Harper huffed and headed out.

  Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Is he faking?”

  “I don’t care.” She slammed the door behind them. Cringing, she whispered, “Sorry!” to all the doors around them.

  Isaac chuckled.

  “What?”

  “You’re cute.”

  She grinned. “Shut up.”

  They made their way back to the elevator and Isaac stuck his hands in his pockets to keep himself from touching her.

  Harper paced the small space. “Can’t you haul him out of bed early tomorrow and put him through sprints or something?”

  “Sorry, this isn’t college ball. He’s an adult.”

  “By age only.”

  “Still want to keep him?”

  Harper’s face clouded. “Our PR people can handle this. I’ll call them when I get back to the room.”

  He dug his hands into his hair. “Your life would be so much easier without him in it.”

  She gave him a funny look. “You’d
think so, wouldn’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t it?” They exited the elevator onto their nice, calm, quiet ninth floor.

  “My dad’s gone and my life is much more complicated.” She used the key card to open the door.

  “That’s different. You didn’t trade your father; he passed away.” Isaac flipped on the light so Harper could see her way to the bed. She climbed up, sitting with her legs crossed and leaning against the headboard.

  He killed the lights and shucked his shoes, not caring where they ended up. He’d find them in the morning.

  “This team is his legacy. I want to do right by it.”

  “So help us compete—not just this year, but in the years to come.” Isaac felt around for the pile of blankets and towels he called a bed.

  There was a long pause, during which neither of them moved. “Jackson was Dad’s call and I have to trust his judgment.”

  Angry, Isaac went back to looking for his nest. He scooted his bare feet across the floor and put his hands out in front of him. His foot collided with the nightstand and he cursed.

  “You’re upset.”

  He held his pinkie toe and growled a response that didn’t sound like actual words. Why did such a small digit have to hurt so bad?

  “You don’t have to get all huffy.”

  “I’m not,” he replied through clenched teeth.

  “You sure sound like it.”

  “I stubbed my toe.”

  There was a pause. “Oh. I thought you were taking your anger out on the furniture. Are you okay?”

  He sighed as the pain finally receded. “It’s just a toe. I have nine others.”

  Settling on the floor, Isaac rubbed his toe with one hand.

  Harper giggled.

  “What?”

  “I thought you swore at me.”

  Isaac leaned his head against the wall. “Nope—just the nightstand.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I want to swear at me too.” She shuffled around. “And Dad—what a mess.” She sniffed.

  The fight went out of Isaac. He climbed up onto the bed and gathered Harper into his arms while she cried the tears of a loved one gone too soon.

  He kind of wished the old man was around. Maybe he would have listened when it came to trading Jackson. Of course, if Jake Richmond was still around, Harper wouldn’t own the Redrocks, she wouldn’t have married him, and he wouldn’t be holding a woman he cared very much about.

  20

  “Home at last.” Harper dropped her purse on the side table and flopped next to Logan, who was watching PGA highlights.

  The Redrocks’ last game against Colorado was yesterday night and the team flew out first thing Sunday morning to make their late afternoon game against Boston on their home field.

  They were on a high. Winning by one run and you’d think they’d won the World Series or something, the way they’d doused Isaac with the water cooler. He’d laughed and slapped backs and then searched for Harper in the stands. She’d blown him a kiss without thinking. The media gobbled it up. It seemed their marriage, the butt of late-night television’s jokes for weeks, had suddenly become a Cinderella story.

  Like Cinderella, Harper was called upon to slave away after her father died. For weeks she’d kept the pain and sorrow to herself, but in Isaac’s arms, she’d finally let it loose. The release was bittersweet, like she was finally accepting his passing. And Isaac’s embrace was strong, holding her up when she was at her lowest.

  They talked again the next night about her dad, her arm hanging off the bed so she could hold Isaac’s hand. Isaac asked questions about her childhood, bringing back the best of memories. Boarding the plane was a mixed bag. She wanted to get home, wanted to see Logan and her mom, but would miss those quiet nights.

  “Where’s Mom?” Harper asked.

  “She wanted to paint something.” Logan waved his hand towards the art studio.

  Harper smiled, grateful that she’d left the room alone—just the way her mother liked it. She would bet dollars to easels that Mozart played through the surround sound and there was at least one smear of blue paint on her mother’s cheek. Painting was one of the rare times she let herself get messy—because it was for her art.

  By the look of Logan’s blue golf shirt and plaid slacks, painting wasn’t the only thing that kept her mom busy for the last few days. She’d make another bet that Logan had several more of those shirts hanging in his closet, accompanied by golf shoes and a set of custom clubs. “Nice digs.”

  “Thanks.” He popped his collar and an attitude.

  Harper elbowed him lightly. “What did Ashley think?”

  “She hasn’t seen them yet—thanks to Dad.”

  “What did I do?” asked Isaac as he entered the room. Heat built in Harper’s stomach. He looked good in jeans. He looked better in his uniform, but she couldn’t ask him to wear that home.

  “You’re a horrible wingman.” Logan muted the television and turned to Isaac.

  “If you’re relying on me to be your wingman, then you’re worse off than I thought.”

  Harper eyed Isaac’s tight tee and open button-up shirt. His hair was getting long and he’d gelled it with just a few swipes of his wet fingers this morning. Not that she’d watched him outright. Sneaking a glance now and then wasn’t creepy; it was curious or flirty. “I don’t know, I think you’d make a good wingman.”

  “Yeah?” He popped the same attitude as Logan. She grinned, looking down.

  “Has he told you he’s a natural golfer?” asked Nora as she came into the room. Sure enough, a streak of cerulean blue ran across her right thigh.

  “I believe it,” said Isaac. He patted Logan’s shoulder as he took a seat on his other side.

  “Where’s Seth?” Harper asked.

  “He got called out on some urgent business and had to leave,” replied Nora.

  “Oh.” Harper frowned. “He could have said goodbye.”

  “He sent you those.” Logan pointed to a large bouquet of peonies on the entertainment center. Harper hauled herself out of the overstuffed couch and found the card. “‘Dear Sis,’” she read out loud. “‘Thanks for letting me stay, for giving Mom a grandson so she’ll stop harping on me to get married already’—”

  Isaac and Logan laughed.

  Mom scowled. “I don’t harp. I encourage—with force.”

  “‘And for running off and getting married so I had to come and straighten you out. Miss you already, Seth.’” She refolded the card and tossed it on the table.

  “What? Nothing about getting a fantastic new brother-in-law?” Isaac quirked a grin.

  “I didn’t buy you flowers, but I am leaving after lunch,” announced Nora.

  “But you just got here,” protested Harper.

  “And like your brother, I’m glad I came.” She hugged Logan. “Remember what I told you—anything you need—ever.”

  Logan nodded.

  “You knew she was leaving?” Harper asked him.

  “Nana has half of Europe to see.” Logan shrugged.

  Harper’s eyes stung with unexpected tears at hearing Logan call her mom Nana.

  “And Logan has a summer of golf lessons and girls to get to. He doesn’t need an old lady slowing him down.”

  “P-shaw. Maybe by the time you get back I’ll be able to two-putt.”

  “I’m sure of it.” She turned to Isaac. “Will you two move my bags up to the front door?”

  “Of course.” Isaac and Logan wandered down the stairs to the garden suite.

  As soon as they were out of hearing range, Nora rounded on Harper. “What happened in Colorado?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Come off it, darling. I had laser eye surgery ten years ago—I can see the change between you two. It’s like you’re circling around one another, orbiting.”

  “We lost the first three games and won the fourth. Had a nice talk around midnight and broke up a party.” She lifted a shoulder. “Nothing happened.”
<
br />   “But you want it to.”

  “Mother!”

  Nora tossed back her chin and laughed, the grief and mourning and years dripping away like a popsicle melting on the hot St. George sidewalk. Sometimes, Harper forgot that her mom was a child once upon a time, but when she laughed like that, an eight-year-old version wasn’t hard to imagine. She also forgot that, while she had lost her dad, her mom lost her spouse. After having a taste of the married life, Harper had a new respect for the pain she must have experienced. Hurling herself out of the chair, she threw her arms around her mom’s neck. “I love you, Mom.”

  Startled, Nora jerked, but quickly melted into the hug. “I love you, too.” She pulled Harper tight and Harper felt the ribs in her mom’s back, another testament to the grief she soldiered through.

  “Come back soon. I miss you.” She hadn’t, not really, because she’d been so caught up in her own life and problems. But having everyone under one roof, including Isaac and Logan, reminded her of growing up. Her grandparents would visit for weeks at a time and a sense of family prevailed. Strange, how growing up had made her comfortable with loneliness.

  “I will.”

  After a dinner of steak, potatoes, and kale wraps, Harper walked her mom to the town car and gave her one last hug. She was left at the curb, waving at the taillights.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she trudged back into the house. Logan’s and Isaac’s voices bounded up the stairs, cutting through the silence and softening the sense of abandonment her mother left behind. Following their chatter, she ended up in the kitchen, which wasn’t a big surprise considering their healthy appetites. A platter of cupcake wrappers and two half-full glasses of milk adorned the counter, while guilt painted their faces.

  “Don’t worry, I’m here for the ice cream.”

  “There’s ice cream?” Logan asked through a mouthful of white cake and chocolate frosting.

  Harper held up the tiny frozen cup. “Almond milk ice cream.”

  “Yuck.” Logan wiped his mouth with a napkin, brushed the crumbs into his hand, and threw everything away. “I’m going to my room.”

  “Really?” Harper blinked. Logan usually liked to hang out and she was hoping he’d stick around.

  “Ashley’s supposed to FaceTime me.” Logan blushed.