Inheritance Goals: A Sports Romance

by McKenna James

  Professional teams spent millions of dollars to pamper their high-paid athletes. The Hurricanes were no different. The lockers, not really lockers at all but more like small alcoves, were made of cherry wood and lined the walls. The room’s lighting was soft, the carpet dark, and the center of the carpet formed a large Hurricane. My father had spent nearly two million to make them happy.

  I walked around the room, reading player names, halting when I found Bryce’s. I glanced back at the entrance and then opened the cabinet above Bryce's seat. Inside the cabinet, I found what I wasn’t looking for.

  The picture showed Bryce and me at the beach, surrounded by other players, a bonfire blazing in front of us. Bryce had a beer in one hand, me in his other. I wore a bikini, and he wore only swim trunks, his hard body in full view. Hitting the beach on Thursday nights, according to Bryce, settled his nerves before a game. Occasionally, we’d go alone but mostly with some of the guys and their girlfriends.

  I touched the picture, remembering what it was like to touch Bryce. Unlike most guys his age, he knew how to please a woman—took his time, meticulously pleasing. He told me it was more important that he pleased me rather than the other way around. And he meant it.

  If I were being honest, I really had let the wrong one get away. I missed his strong arms, the ones that made me feel safe. He joked and played and made me feel loved. Had what I done been worth it?

  But I could not, even if Bryce wanted to, rekindle what once was. Though I doubted he would even allow me near him anyway. Unfortunately, I not only missed him, but I was still in love with him.

  I returned the picture to the cabinet and closed the door, about to touch his practice jersey when my phone buzzed.

  Gus was already done with his meeting and waiting at the front entrance. The board had not spent near enough time in the meeting to have has a unanimous vote for me as the new owner. Maybe next time, though probably not.

  “Hey, Gus,” I said as I walked the hall toward the front entrance, this time ignoring the image of Bryce. Maybe I could forget him.

  “Sorry, I tried.”

  “I’m sure you did.” I crossed my arms and looked down at my skirt and shoes. Rejection meant shopping. It meant a spree. Several bags. Maybe a gallon of vanilla swirl ice cream. “What was it this time? Too much female?’

  “It’s not like that, Madison. It really isn’t.”

  “Sure it is. They don’t want to relinquish the control. Period.” Gus smashed his mouth together and glared at me just as May passed by. “And what you all did to her is unacceptable. My father would not be pleased!”

  Gus started to reply, but the roar of an engine outside drew our attention. Someone on a large, shiny motorcycle pulled in and parked next to Bryce’s car. The man wore a helmet, shorts, and sneakers, but no shirt. Tribal tattoos covered most of his chest, and Celtic warrior tattoos laced each bicep. Vanity hugged closer to his skin than the tattoos.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Gus said.

  I followed Gus out of the building, and we approached the bike just as the man removed his helmet.

  “Fuck,” I said in a whimper.

  Bryce sat the helmet on the seat and turned. A dozen tiny beads of perspiration trailed down his chest, making his skin glisten, the droplets bouncing over his six-pack abs like a car going over speed bumps. “Madison,” he said.

  Sweat raced between my skin and blouse. I raised my hand to block out the sun, my breathing heavy as I studied the man Bryce had become. And then everything went blurry.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Bryce

  I waited for Gus to open the front entrance, the team’s trainers racing toward us with a gurney. Madison’s head leaned against my shoulder with her eyes still closed. Her left wrist rested against my fingertips, her pulse beating like war drums. It felt both refreshing and odd, holding her in my arms once again. I blew back stray strands of hair from her face, wishing she would open her eyes and look at me.

  “Hurry up with that damned thing!”

  I met the trainers halfway down the hall and laid Madison on the gurney and followed along as they wheeled her down to First Aid. I’d dreamed of seeing her again, but I didn't anticipate her reaction. I knew it was only a matter of time before we’d be face to face, but how I would go about dealing with her in my life again was still a mystery.

  “Don’t start,” Gus said and grabbed my arm before I could enter the room. I didn’t believe the man cared for anything or anybody more than he cared about running the Hurricanes. We had a plagued history together.

  I looked down at Gus’ hand and then glared at the man. “You forget who the star is?” I said. “Remove your hand.” If any other man had grabbed me like that, I would have knocked him into the next week.

  Gus removed his hand but blocked the door. “And because you are the star, you have great trade value. Don’t forget that.” He tried to smirk, but age had not been kind to his round face.

  “You have a championship ring because of me. Don’t you forget that,” I replied. “I know you feel like you owe her father, so you’re going to look after her. But don’t get in my way again.” Gus moved to the side, but I wasn’t finished. “And you just remember, it’s you and the board keeping her from owning the team—not me.”

  I entered the training room and stopped. Rainer, one of the trainers and a doctor on loan from the local hospital, held smelling salts beneath Madison’s nose, saying her name over and over in an attempt to bring her to. He also had a stethoscope beneath her blouse. Rumors about him were rampant. Madison jerked to life and knocked away Ranier’s hand. They'd obviously never dealt with her before.

  I stepped between the training staff and noticed Madison’s blouse unbuttoned below her breasts. Though I didn’t mind getting a peek, I didn’t think the rest of the staff needed a show. “Out!” I said. The staff looked up at the boom of my voice. At six-four, a solid and firm wall of rock and a commanding presence, how could they ignore me? But when they didn’t move quite fast enough, I shouted again. “I said, get out.”

  The room cleared except for Gus, who stood at the door, still watching over the woman he considered his own daughter yet wouldn’t consider as the owner of the Hurricanes. Madison looked around me and nodded at Gus. Gus left but not without glaring at me.

  I leaned over Madison, attempting to button her shirt. “The hell,” I said when she smacked my hands away. “I was just trying to help!”

  “Well, don’t. I can button my own shirt!”

  “I carried you in here.”

  “So, you think I owe you my life?”

  “Same old Madison.” I shook my head, a hint of sarcastic laughter in my tone. “Never want anyone’s help. Go off into the big old world and conquer.” I stepped away before old memories got the better of me.

  Madison sat up and slung her feet over the edge. She buttoned her shirt and then looked up, her eyes slowly trailing up my abs, chest, and then shoulders. “Like what you see?” I made my pecs dance because she had liked it way back when. “Take a picture, sweetheart; it’ll last longer.”

  “Very mature, Bryce.” Madison rolled her eyes. “And when did you get into ink?” she asked. “Said you’d never do it. And what’s with the Harley?”

  “Pfftt. People change, Madison.” I eyed her ring finger though I'd never heard anything about her being married or even engaged. I still felt equal parts of hate and love for the woman who walked away from me years ago. “Gus told me he’d promoted you from an intern. You’re one step closer to your dream.”

  “V.P. of Employee Relations,” she said and shrugged. Not going to be happy until she ruled the world.

  “Sounds important.” My tone was acerbic. I stared into her big brown eyes, gauging a reaction to snide remark. Madison didn’t flinch, however. I perused her body, taking in the strong woman she’d grown to be. Her hair curled down to her shoulders, though I couldn’t remember her ever wearing her hair that long. She had always kept it short, barel
y long enough for a ponytail. She looked more mature, like she’d experienced life and not just been hiding behind her father’s money. “So, we’re going to be working together.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, me reliving in my mind some of the better times we spent together. Anytime football practice and school would allow, it was nothing for us to take a long weekend and head north into Georgia where my parents owned a small cabin stuck in the middle of the forest. We hiked during the day and spent all evening rolling around in bed together. Some nights we made love; other nights we fucked until exhausted.

  But we had also made promises to one another that only I kept. Seeing her now made me remember the ring I’d picked out. The deposit had been sizable. Luckily, she canned me before I made the purchase. Anger began to rear its ugly head. Knowing I'd be a fool to start throwing stuff around the room, I finally broke the silence.

  “It’s good to see you’re finally getting the chance,” I said, not meaning it. “I’m sure the board will see the error in their ways and promote you to owner. You’ve definitely made all the right moves in your life to get there.”

  A smile crept across Madison’s lips. “Thank you. It means a lot coming from you. Really does. I was afraid . . .”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “That you might resent me for maybe being your boss someday.”

  Well, fuck. I never really looked at it that way. But one day, my career would be in her hands. And if she walked out on me once, what was stopping her from doing it again? I rubbed my chin, trying not to show my agitation. But even as pissed off as I was, I still loved her. I still … still wanted her to be my wife someday. I wanted to make love to her, to touch her soft skin, to feel her warm breath against my lips while I buried myself inside her. Until that time came around, if it ever did, I’d settle for fucking her savagely before walking away.

  “I promise our relationship will be completely professional,” Madison said. She straightened her blouse and slid her hands down her skirt. She seemed very proud of herself. What the hell did she expect my reaction to be?

  “One-hundred percent professional.” I glanced at my watch and started to pat Madison on the leg. Be professional, Bryce, even though you don’t want to be. “I need to go meet with the new coach. Have a good day, Madison.”

  “See ya, Bryce.” I was turned toward the door when Madison called to my retreating back. I looked back, but what she seemed to have decided it best to keep her thought to herself. “Never mind,” she said and then laid back on the gurney.

  I left the training facility hard and completely pissed off. Madison wanted to keep our relationship professional. Bullshit. I saw it in her eyes, the way she practically undressed me while I was standing there. And my boss! No fucking way!

  “Bryce.”

  I stopped in the middle of the empty parking lot next to the stadium and shook my head. Now she was stalking me. I turned as she approached. “I have a meeting with the new coach in twenty minutes,” I said. “What do you want, Madison? Bark some orders?”

  “I’m heading to my other office. Can I walk with you?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Don’t be an asshole, Bryce. You know how this has to be. I can’t be involved with anyone associated with the team. And neither should you.”

  “Ah, so you’re dictating my personal life now?” I started toward the stadium, and Madison followed, her heels click-click-click annoyingly against the concrete. “Why’d your father even trade for me, knowing you and I had a history and eventually you’d be taking over? Fucking conflict of interest!” I stopped at the entrance to the stadium. “You had him draft me,” I said incredulously. “Didn’t you?”

  “I did not! You arrogant son-of-a-bitch.”

  “You’ll never be my boss,” I said calmly.

  Madison growled and stormed away, her heels still annoying.

  “Fuck,” I said and entered the stadium. I looked down at my crotch. “Stop!”

  It was the very last thing I needed in my final season with the Hurricanes, my contract almost at term. We’d kept the core of last year's championship team, and we fully expected a repeat. But that was before Madison’s sexy ass showed up. Did anyone really expect me to work under those conditions? And dammit, she was my boss.

  I took the elevator to the office suites and as soon as the doors opened to the floor, I realized I had yet to put on a shirt. “Shit!”

  “Here.”

  I turned to find Michael Seymore approaching. He tossed me a shirt. “Don’t you ever carry your cell phone?” he asked. “Could’ve been an emergency.”

  I checked my back pocket. “Still on the bike.” I put on the shirt and stared at Mike. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Addressing the rumors,” he said. He tugged at the knot in his tie and then at his cuffs. He wore thousand-dollar suits, expensive cologne, and used too much hair gel. Luckily, he knew his way around a sports contract.

  “The hell are you talking about?” I asked.

  Mike nodded toward the restrooms, and I followed him inside. “I got wind the Hurricanes were floating your name out there for trade offers. A guy with the Georgetown Sharks called me.”

  “Madison,” I ground out between clenched teeth.

  “Doubtful. She doesn’t have that kind of power yet.” He modeled in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie arrogantly, and I wanted to kick his ass for his stupid fuckin’ display.

  “Yet,” I said. “You’re my agent. Fix this shit, or whatever it is.”

  “You know I can’t predict who the next owner will be. But I do know Madison has done everything right. Her father wanted a genuinely good person to take over the team. That’s her. Eventually, you’ll be reporting to her.”

  “What do you know about the trustees?” I asked. “They going to make her owner anytime soon?”

  Mike shrugged and dusted imaginary lint from his shoulder. I never understood how it was a hundred degrees outside and the man wore a full suit and tie without a sheen of perspiration visible to the expensive fabric. “Something’s up,” Mike said. “I hear Gus is retiring at the end of the year.”

  “The trustees will then have full control. You know those bastards don’t like me.”

  “That’s why I think they’ll use Madison against you, then kick her ass to the curb.” Mike looked in the mirror and checked his hair. The man gave new meaning to the term vanity. “Come on, we need to figure out what the hell they’re doing.” He gave me a sideways glance, and the smirk on his face could be described as cocky, confident, or condescending. “You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

  “That obvious?” I asked.

  “You need to let go of that shit,” Mike said. “She’s under contract to NOT get involved with anyone on staff, including you.”

  “And if she does?”

  “She violates terms of the contract and she’ll never be owner. In fact, it will eliminate her from ever becoming owner. If she’s smart, she’ll stay away from you.”

  We left the bathroom and entered the office suites, where the receptionist led us to a conference room with windows looking down over the training facility. I moved closer to the window and saw Madison speaking to RJ Simpson, one of my receivers. RJ had more baggage than a cross-country Delta flight. The asshole had slept with girlfriends of teammates during his stint last year with the South Carolina Apollos. There was nobody in the league who could catch a football like him, but there was also nobody in the league that had as many women falling at his feet. Every defensive player in the league wanted a shot at hitting him on the field.

  Madison looked to be laughing, obviously smitten with RJ. So that was how it was going to be played? Avoid me, but show yourself to other players.

  “Bryce.”

  I nodded at the three trustees who were taking a seat around the table. Gus joined them. As did John Bledsoe, our new coach. Mike sat next to me. The salaries around the table could pay the debt of a sm
all country.

  “What’s going on?” Mike asked.

  “We wanted to address some trade rumors,” Tony Martin, the loudest of the three trustees, said to Mike, totally ignoring my presence. He knew Mike did all the negotiating.

  “Then address them,” Mike said. I could see Mike was pissed. He'd come here with the intention of surprising the board that he knew my name was on the chopping block. Win them a fucking championship, and they put my name out there to be traded. Had to be Madison. Her way of freeing herself of the responsibility of dealing with me.

  We listened for nearly an hour as the trustees explained their position. I was indeed a hot mess of a rumor.

  “Bottom line, while we expect to have another record-breaking season with Willheight”—Tony threw his thumb in my direction, as if I was merely an object at the table, and in the eyes of the trustees, I guessed I was—“on the roster, we also realize we need to make some budget cuts and that starts with salary analysis of the entire organization.”

  Tony cleared his throat and then took a drink of water before continuing. “Willheight was a promising draft pick, but he’s the highest-paid on the Hurricanes’ roster, which is too steep for a rookie. We’re going in a different direction. Of course, he’ll remain on the roster until the right trade is found.”

  I glared straight ahead and nearly choked on the bile rising in my throat as the meeting neared a close. She waltzed back into my life only to wreak havoc on my heart once again. “For the foreseeable future, until the trade is finalized, you’ll need to direct any questions or concerns you have to the new Vice President of Employee Relations.”

  And just to add a kick to the fuckin’ ball sack, Mike asked, “And what was her name again?”

  “Madison Charles.”

  CHAPTER THREE