“During the time he’s homebound,” she repeated, a smile in her voice. “I like the way you bullshit, Noah. Can you do me a favor and send along your résumé? I like to be kept in the loop.”
Score one for Noah, retract points from Teams Carmichael and Brawley. She did not like that she hadn’t been informed.
“I’m sending it off as we speak,” I said, tapping at the laptop. My confidence soared and my heart stopped beating as violently. After shooting off the email, I folded my legs beneath me and relaxed in Gavin’s enormous office chair. It was made of the supplest leather I’d ever felt, and was soft as silk against my skin. “I’m calling for Gavin, which I’m sure you guessed. He’s insisting on keeping a training camp schedule even though he isn’t at training camp, and is going to have me handle business that isn’t extremely sensitive.”
“Not surprising. He’s afraid of getting rusty while off the field for an entire season.”
“Will it matter that much? Forgive me for sounding ignorant, but he’s so talented. It wouldn’t fade, would it?”
“No. But my athletes punish their bodies to stay in top form. He’s likely afraid of easing back on his regime and not being one hundred percent by next season. Obviously, he doesn’t have to be as hard on himself as he is, but Gavin is intense.”
I’d noticed. And that intensity had tripled ever since he’d officially hired me. It was like he was making up for that one bonding moment by never cracking a smile and avoiding me constantly in order to hide in the gym.
“He is intense,” I said. “Including about the charity. He took it very seriously, and that’s why I’m calling you.”
“Oh, really?” Now she sounded intrigued. “Tell me more.”
I spent the next ten minutes referencing the kinds of philanthropic pursuits her other clients had done and building up to Gavin’s idea. It was a one-shot deal, so not as far-reaching as founding an actual charity, but I’d talked Gavin into picking a new Title 1 school to sponsor every year.
“And this was Gavin’s idea?”
“Yes. He was inspired by a letter he got in the mail. A teenage boy from his old high school had written to him. Apparently, their school has lost a lot of funding over the past decade, and the sports program is in disrepair.”
“Wow. I’m impressed with him, but also with you. The idea may have been planted by him, but considering your history in social work, I’m sure you helped quite a bit.”
I preened at the laptop. “Just a little.”
“Uh-huh.” Mel snorted. “Email me the details we just talked about, and we can get started on this next week. I love the idea. I’m proud of Gavin.”
“Awesome! He’ll be so glad.”
He really wouldn’t. He’d more than likely grunt and keep doing squats. I’d walked in on him this morning and the sight of his ass and thighs clenching and flexing had nearly caused me to degrade myself.
“Sure.” Mel was smiling again. I could hear it in her voice. “While I have you on the phone, let me give you some other duties to accomplish while he has you. He needs a social media presence whether he wants it or not. Instagram and Twitter should be sufficient for now. Facebook would be great for older fans, but I won’t push that issue just yet, since he already has a fan page. I want you to create his Twitter and Instagram accounts, and start posting on them.”
“Uh.” Damn, now I was going to have to ruin our nice conversation by saying no. “I don’t think Gavin would like me posting as him.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s better than me asking him to do it himself.”
“I’ll set up the accounts, and I’ll talk about the content with Gavin.”
“That’s fine, but I want to see content as soon as possible. He needs a brand that will stick besides ‘asshole.’ I don’t expect him to become JJ Watt overnight, but reminding his fans that he is an exceptional athlete who dedicates his entire life to the sport will go a long way. Just take videos of him working out and put them on Instagram. The fans would go wild, and keep them invested in his career even while he’s off the field.”
I’d also go wild with lust and have to banish myself, but she was right.
“I’ll talk to him,” I said.
We hung up and I gave myself a pat on the back for making a good first impression. Finally. Which meant it was time to ruin all of those feel-good glows by calling Joe.
There were several things about Joe that made my skin crawl, but the top one was that he consistently reminded me of Gallagher. It was the cool arrogance and cutthroat attitude. I hadn’t noticed it even a year ago, but now it was easy to identify the markers of someone who only viewed you as a commodity. I honestly had no idea how Gavin coped. But maybe that was why he was so protective of his privacy and his autonomy—he didn’t want to belong to anyone. He didn’t want anyone trying to mold him or make him theirs.
Or maybe I just needed to give up on my overanalysis of the football player after our brief moment that hadn’t even been a moment.
“Did you get the DocuSign?”
“Hi Joe,” I said, forcing some warmth into my tone. “I did, but I had a question.”
“What? I have something else to do five minutes ago.”
How did he get through a day without being punched in the face?
“One—the language about me living at the residence is still there. Two—there’s also language about a huge signing bonus that we didn’t even discuss.”
“The signing bonus is to account for you living there. Gavin told me to add it.” Joe sounded steadily more impatient. “He said you were struggling with the commute, and needed an incentive. He thought throwing more money at you would convince you to make your life easier by staying there through the week. Why he cares about your life being easier is beyond me.”
“I’m sure it has more to do with me straggling in a late, hot, sweaty mess of disorganization,” I said. “It’s true that I’ve been struggling but—”
“No,” Joe interrupted. “There wasn’t a complaint about your performance. He specifically said the commute is stressing you out.”
It was, but I hadn’t realized Gavin had noticed. Or cared. He’d just given me disgusted looks before stalking off again.
“I’m not sure what to do,” I finally said. “Can I call you back?”
Joe hung up without another word, and I was left staring at the fancy phone that sat on Gavin’s desk like an ornament.
Part of me was terrified of being locked in a mansion with Gavin Brawley. Not only because of his menacing glares and brooding silences, and the way he could reduce me to a mass of exposed nerves, but because I was starting to become too preoccupied with what made him tick. If I spent hours at night trying to work out why he was the way he was—a beautiful man who seemed, for all intents and purposes, isolated from the outside world because of his temperament—how much would I do it once I was under his roof?