Hail Mary (The Mavericks Series)

by Julianna Marley

  “I came, I saw, I conquered,” he smirked looking down at the same script. “Rory and I both got this the week before high school graduation.”

  Her heart ached at the thought of Rory and his entire family. Gosh, how was it possible that she missed them all so much? “Speaking of Rory, I talked to Siobhan yesterday,” she smiled to herself at how excited Siobhan had sounded. She had managed to get her to commit to one complete wedding scheme; an Irish infused, classical ambiance, helping her balance some of the crazy ideas Siobhan had insisted upon. And holding it inside a large tent on Patrick and Fiona’s gorgeous property helped Rory’s pockets. Although she had a feeling that Shay would make sure that they had what they needed. Most likely what they wanted too. Groaning playfully, at the mention of Siobhan, she giggled pinching Shay gently. She wasn’t that bad.

  “She’s going to have my brother looking like a circus ringleader,” he shook his head, his hands resting against her hip.

  “No, no, I’ve convinced her to have it in your parents’ backyard with a gorgeous tent,” she smiled looking up at him. He seemed impressed. Good, he should be because Siobhan had been a hard sell, but she had finally agreed. “This way Pops doesn’t have to travel after his surgery,” she explained realizing how personal it felt discussing his family. As if they were her own. But it wasn’t her family. She needed to remember that. “I’m going back there in a few weeks to finalize some things,” she said and for a moment she felt silly for even being nervous around him. She didn’t know why but the way he was looking at her made her feel so secure and protected. Which was absolutely absurd because it was Shay that scared her. She wasn’t entirely ready for all of this with him, but then again, where Shay was concerned, she really hadn’t seemed to have much of a choice in the matter either.

  Tapping the button on the elevator, Shay checked his phone again before slipping it back inside his pocket. He had two minutes before his meeting with Bill Mathis and regardless of being exhausted from an entire day of practice, he was ready to talk some sense into management about his contract. Walking out of the elevator he strolled around the Mavericks headquarters nodding to some of the staff before grabbing the door to Mathis’s office. If what Griffin was telling him was true, things didn’t look good. But that’s why he was here. To make them good.

  “Hey beautiful,” he smiled at Mathis’s assistant, Emme McGovern who was on the phone. Sitting down on the couch, he rested his arm on the back, crossing his leg over his knee.

  “Well, well, well, look who decided to make a rare appearance on this Wednesday afternoon,” Emme grinned, hanging up the phone. The woman was gorgeous. Even a blind man would be able to see that. Only standing as tall as the middle of his stomach, if that, she was a little thing, but a spitfire nonetheless and honestly, most days, she scared him. Her long dark hair was an unusual mix of black and red and had always reminded him of Cherry Coke.

  “Had some time in my schedule, what can I say?” For as concerned as Griffin was about them throwing him back into the free agency pool, he had learned a long time ago not to show fear. He was the best. Now all he had to do was remind Mathis and the new team owner of that. And he would. He had to.

  “Jax just left here a little bit ago, ya know,” she raised a brow, crossing her legs.

  Snickering, he wasn’t surprised at all. Jax was harder on him than any other teammate and it worked well for them. But he also knew Monaghan was concerned. No teammate would want to break up the trifecta that was him, Jax and Trevor out there on that the field. He would take any and all help he could manage, especially from Monaghan because when his captain spoke, people listened. But a small part of him also hoped that it was because he didn’t want to see a friend leave either.

  “This is all a numbers game,” Emme’s mouth went into a straight line, crossing her arms. “You know that, don’t you?”

  Yeah, he knew.

  Shaking his head, he watched Emme roll her eyes. She was Mathis’s assistant, but the woman knew more about negotiations, moves and team management than anyone he had ever met. Certainly more than Mathis, even more than him, which was unfortunate. “I’ve got a few cards up my sleeve,” he grinned. “Don’t worry.”

  Truth was, he had none. But they couldn’t know that. All he had was what he left out on the field each day and how many points he stacked up each week. Any sign of weakness, they’d get him, sending him off with a wave and a thank you.

  “I sure hope so, Nova because I’m a gambling woman and even I’m concerned.”

  “Don’t be,” he shook his head trying to ignore the certainty in her voice. There was no way he was leaving this team. And certainly not now. Mathis’s door opened, the large man looking ridiculous in an ill-fitted light blue suit and Converse. “Cunningham,” he bellowed, his entire stomach moving along with him.

  Getting up from the sofa, Shay cut across the large office, pausing at Emme’s desk. “You can always bet on me, darling,” he smirked, tapping the desk. “Always.”

  Barely fitting through the door because of Mathis’s giant stomach in the way, Shay squeezed through before sliding into the seat across from his desk. Waiting for Mathis to sit down, Shay adjusted the beanie on his head. “Talk to me.”

  “You know it pains me to have to even discuss this with you,” Mathis insisted, plopping down into the chair.

  Then don’t.

  “We have three offers on the table right now and I wanted to give you the courtesy of knowing before any negotiations are entered into,” Mathis said rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. Or stress? Maybe both. Grabbing a Coke, he snapped the top before taking a large gulp. “Nothing is being offered obviously until the new owner signs off and Brody is here.”

  Yeah, Mike Brody, his agent. The one who’d told him not to worry and that he’d handle it all, but if what he was hearing from Emme was true, Brody better be ready to go full throttle.

  “Dallas, Tampa Bay and San Fran.”

  No offense, No defense and no quarterback.

  Shit. This was worse than he thought. They were both a quiet a moment and he mulled over where exactly he could solidify his spot in this organization by doing more than he already was.

  “Shay, you know I’m trying to do everything that I can to keep you here, right?”

  He knew. But hearing the potential cities that he could be traded to made it all more real. He loved this team so fucking much and the thought of leaving this city, had him wanting to hit something. Whitney crossed his mind and he didn’t like that. He had no idea what the hell was happening between them, but if he was traded to another city, the answer would be nothing. Nothing would be happening.

  “We’re regrouping next week and I’m hoping I can come up with some kind of strategy here, Shay. But I promise you, I’m doing all I can,” Mathis urged setting him with a look. He appreciated that, he just hoped it would be enough. Shaking Mathis’s hand, he waved a hand to Emme who was on the phone again on his way out. He was tired, hungry and thoroughly pissed off. And he knew there was only one person, or one smile in particular, that could temporarily fix all of those things.

  “Hey Char, can you fax these for me?” Whitney asked, coming down the hallway from her office. Stopping at the large desk, Charlotte slammed around files. Watching her a moment, her tiny arms gathered folders out of the drawers before throwing them down onto the desk. “Are you alright?” She folded her arms as Charlotte cut her a look.

  The look.

  Somebody messed up.

  “Ohhh,” Whitney smirked leaning against the desk, “Can I play the game?”

  Shooting her another look, Charlotte’s eyes narrowed into slits. The guessing game of who ticked Charlotte off now was one of her favorites. And one she had played her entire life. She only hoped it wasn’t Myles. She liked him too much to have him destroyed by Charlotte’s lethal attitude. Rifling through a bunch of papers, Charlotte blew a piece of hair out of her face ignoring her.

  “Mama?” Whitney asked almost a
mused leaning against the desk. “Papa? Your assistant?” she asked. “Please don’t say Myles.”

  “Stop,” Charlotte shot back taking her off guard. Alright, so no guessing game.

  “What in the world is wrong?” Whitney asked, stopping Charlotte’s hands from ripping across the desk.

  “All of it,” Charlotte yelled, making her jump.

  “Hey,” she said, coming around the desk, pulling her cousin in for a hug she let Charlotte’s little body lean against her, feeling her shake. “Hey, talk to me.”

  “What if this is all a terrible mistake, Whit? Why did I think I could do this?”

  She had been so preoccupied with the fashion show and staying busy enough to push past all the thoughts of her night with Shay that she had almost forgotten the timer on Charlotte’s final days at Save the Date had already begun ticking. “Does this new chapter make you happy?” Whitney asked, smoothing out Charlotte’s short hair. “Are you excited about it? Can you not stop thinking about it?”

  Charlotte groaned into her shoulder.

  “If the answer is yes to any of them, then you’re not making a terrible mistake. You need to follow your dream,” Whitney reassured as Charlotte lifted her head. Poor thing looked tired and overwhelmed.

  “You sound like a walking meme,” Charlotte whined. “Do you know that?”

  “But you know all of this already, so what’s up?” Whitney ignored her setting her down in the chair.

  “It’s safe here, Whit,” Charlotte said, looking around the office, the early evening sun shining through the large windows in the front. “I know what I’m doing here, and-”

  “And you know what you’re doing outside of these doors as well,” Whitney smiled. “And the rest, will just fall into place. I promise.” She understood Charlotte’s concern, she did, but she needed to do this. For herself. “You are going to be fine,” she smiled, wrapping Charlotte into a hug again and it felt good to return the favor. How many times had Charlotte done the same for her when she left Louisiana to come work for Save the Date? “I am in such awe of you. Do you know that?”

  Shaking her head, Charlotte took a deep breath inhaling that strong bravado she wished she could borrow from time to time. Her cousin was the strongest person she knew and she admired her so much. And she would never let Charlotte fail. She just wouldn’t. “Let me just send these off and I’ll help you with all of this,” she promised, lifting the papers. “Okay?”

  “That would be awesome because I’m catching up on like twelve months of work in eight days time,” Charlotte groaned. Chuckling, she stuffed the papers under her arm. Charlotte had spent the past year secretly designing more than actually running the office, to which they had all picked up her slack. Even more of a reason that Charlotte needed to stop being so silly and go do what made her happy. Walking back into her office, she took the papers out of the file and it dawned on her that maybe they hadn’t just been discussing Charlotte’s hesitation in leaving Save the Date. Had her concerns included Myles too?

  Checking her phone for a text from Magda, she placed it back down on her desk, hearing the bell in the front of the office chime. Ross was gone on a venue consultation and Liv was busy over at the Mavericks headquarters as per usual, leaving only her and an emotionally unstable Charlotte. Threading the papers into the feed, she clicked the phone number on the fax machine. She was excited for this one. The mayor’s nephew was getting married and had hired Save the Date to plan the entire weekend long event. It would call for a lot of hands, although hands were a rare commodity around here lately, and she knew her and Ross would be stretched thinner than usual. But she didn’t mind. More hours meant more money and more money meant that she could get her and Quinn’s future started sooner. Plus, when you had the opportunity to plan a politician’s family wedding, you didn’t blink. “Hey Char, has Liv mentioned who is taking over for you when you leave?”

  “I’m not all that good at seating charts and overexcited brides, but I know a girl.”

  Turning around she saw Shay standing tall in the doorway, nearly filling it with his body. Sunglasses covering his eyes, the corners of his mouth picked up.

  Holy moly.

  Swallowing back against every trace of his fingers, kiss of his lips and moan she remembered from the other night she bit down on her lip. Gosh, she had been so uninhibited. Being with Shay had felt wicked, but significant. Sliding the glasses off the bridge of his nose, he watched her while every muscle underneath the grey knitted hoodie moved along with him.

  “Sunshine,” he tipped his head and she had visions of melting into the marble floor.

  “Shay,” she returned nervously and she wished someone would walk through the door for a distraction. Charlotte, the postman, a homeless person, anybody. She didn’t trust herself around him. That had been evident a few nights ago. It was as if all her sense left and vanished into those steely blue eyes. “Are you here to discuss planning another party?” she asked, her accent kicking up a notch and she was mortified. Why did this man do that to her?

  “Perhaps,” he moved, closing the door. The click of the lock sounded louder before he walked around her desk. The size of her office was average at any given moment and yet somehow, it felt like a box now. “Maybe something a little more intimate this time.”

  Stopping in front of her, he gripped her hip and she closed her eyes against the touch of his hands. So purposeful and full of intent. For as perplexing as he was at times, he touched her with such determination that she never had to question his intentions. Bringing her closer against him, the fax machine threaded papers behind them and she hoped it was loud enough to mask the sounds of her heart pounding.

  “Have you been avoiding me?” he asked, looking down at her, his eyes playful.

  “No,” she cleared her throat. “I’ve been busy this week, is all.”

  Forcing herself to look away so he couldn’t see her terrible poker face, his grip tightened around her.

  “Bullshit.”

  “And that’s another thing. Your language. It needs to stop.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll be forced to use the cussin’ jar.” Staring at each other a moment, humor played at the corners of his mouth. And gosh, did she remember that mouth.

  “What the hell is a cussin’ jar?” he mocked, his eyebrows lifting.

  “Every time you cuss, you throw a dollar in the jar,” she said simply, lifting her chin. “It does wonders on foul mouths like your own.”

  “You live with Charlotte Scott, how many dollars do you have saved?”

  “A lot,” she smiled. She couldn’t help it, he looked adorable and confused and delicious.

  “Duly noted,” he smirked and she had a feeling he wasn’t going to listen. Running his thumb across her lip, her eyes drifted shut. Gosh, why did this man feel so good? He was no good for her, but felt better than anything she had ever had. His nose rubbing against hers, she felt his lips hovering. Teasing her, he bit her lip and she sighed. Matching his lips she rested her hands on the sides of his face unable to control herself. Lacing his fingers through her hair, he gripped the back of her head. He was rough, but sweet, an overwhelming combination. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he lifted her onto her desk. He smelled of woodlands and tasted like sweet tea as his hands skimmed beneath her dress.

  No.

  Not here.

  Not at work.

  She wasn’t that girl.

  “Stop,” she pushed him away gently. “I can’t.” Her hand resting on his chest, she could feel his heart beating fast and she was glad that she wasn’t the only one. Focusing really hard on a picture of Quinn resting on her desk, she finally looked up at him, his eyes already staring back at her. “I’m sorry Shay, I’m really-”

  “You know,” he grinned, taking her hand and placing it inside his. “You want to talk about bad habits, you really need to kick that apology thing you got going on.” Bringing her hand to his lips, he placed a small kiss across her k
nuckles. She wasn’t so sure she could break that habit. She had been apologizing her entire life. She had been raised on shame. His eyes looking into hers, he lingered a moment and she fought the urge to smooth every faint, fine line on his perfect face. “Come to the game.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked, studying him.

  “You heard me. Come to the game. This Sunday, one o’ clock.”

  Sporting events weren’t really her thing. She had gone to the games in college with her sister and Charlotte because there had been nothing else to do on Saturday afternoons up at school, but gosh she couldn’t even remember the last game she had attended. “Well thank you, I appreciate that, but football games aren’t really my thing,” she said, sliding off the desk, squeezing past him.

  “You’ll love it. And so will Quinn,” he said, taking a Hershey’s Kiss from the bowl on her desk. Unwrapping it, she watched him pop it into his mouth slowly.

  “I can’t bring a five-month old to a football stadium,” she insisted, busying herself with papers she didn’t need just to take her mind off of watching him mull that chocolate around in that sinful mouth.

  “Sure you can,” he shrugged, reaching for another candy. “Liv brought the girls to every game when they were Quinn’s age.”

  “Liv was also there to cheer on her husband.”

  “And you’ll be there to cheer on me,” he grinned.

  Is that what he wanted? For her to cheer him on? To be there for him? She wanted to ask but thought better of it. She wasn’t exactly sure where things stood between them only that she had felt guilty about the other night. She didn’t have causal relationships, certainly not sexual ones and she didn’t invite men into her bed. She was a mama and she had responsibilities. Ones that now directly affected her daughter. “I don’t know.”

  “I do,” he winked, throwing the wrappers in the trash, completely disregarding her protests. “I’ll make sure you have a ticket.”