Hello Quarterback (Hello #8)

29. Mia

29

MIA

I was in the office, working on a report to share in my next meeting with one of Griffen Industries’ biggest investors and sipping on a sparkling water with lime when Ford’s message came through.

Relieved for the distraction from one of the more tedious parts of my work, I picked up my phone and stared in shock at the first message.

It was a screenshot of a boarding pass... for a first-class flight to Brentwood, California.

Then another message appeared on the screen.

Ford: Come to my game?

I bit my lip, rereading the message just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. And once reality set in, it took all I had not to do a happy dance. (If only Vanover wouldn’t have been able to see me and ask far too many astute questions.)

After not hearing from Ford all week, I wondered if our tryst in the back of the limo had simply been a one-time thing while simultaneously and sincerely hoping it was just the beginning.

I wanted something real with him. And maybe this was the sign he wanted something too.

I looked at my calendar, seeing I didn’t have travel or an event this weekend. I did have some work to do, but between hotel Wi-Fi and my hot spot, I should have no problem getting it done. Just as I was about to tell him yes, I’d come, more text bubbles appeared on the screen.

Ford: It would be great exposure for us.

My heart instantly sank, and I felt ridiculous for getting my hopes up at all. But then he sent another text.

Ford: Please?

What was this man doing to me? My heart was on a roller coaster that no sane person would ride.

What did Ford want?

How should I respond?

I had so many conflicting ideas racing through my mind. And if I’d learned one thing from business, it was to bring in advisors you could trust.

In this realm? It was my friend Farrah. And that meant... I had to tell her the truth.

I switched to a new message thread.

Mia: Do you have time to swing by the office today?

I hoped she would reply—with raising kids, her mind was scattered in so many directions, sometimes she would see a message and think she’d responded to it without actually doing so. How she raised her children as a full-time mom while taking on interior design clients from time to time, I had no idea.

But luckily, she messaged me back this time.

Farrah: Mind if Tara tags along?

Mia: Can you make sure she has headphones? Might be some rated R topics.

Farrah: OMG YES.

Farrah: OMW.

I smiled at her enthusiasm and set my phone down to call Vanover on the speaker. “Hey, block off my schedule for the next hour and a half, please?”

“Done,” he replied.

Since I’d have to set some time aside for Farrah, I buckled down and focused on the report.

I was pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in my office, practicing my presentation, when a knock sounded on the glass wall behind me. Turning, I spotted my best friend holding her toddler in one arm and a sparkly unicorn backpack in the other.

My smile was instant. I waved them in and said, “Vanover, can you bring us a couple glasses of white wine and a juice box for Tara?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned, smiling at the little girl who peeked up at him from behind her mom’s shoulder.

After he left, Farrah got her daughter set up on a blanket on the floor, with a tablet playing her favorite cartoon. She’d just gotten the headphones—with an iridescent unicorn horn protruding from the headband—secured on her daughter’s head when Vanover returned with our drinks.

Once he was done passing them out, he went back to his desk, and Farrah and I went to the meeting table, sitting in the chairs. Farrah wore leggings and an oversized T-shirt, and I was a little jealous of her comfy clothing, since I was wearing slacks and a blouse with an underwire bra. Even though it was a Saturday, Thomas or another exec was liable to swing by.

“This must be juicy,” Farrah said, sipping happily on her wine.

I tugged at the collar on my blouse, not sure how to broach this with Farrah. “So I want your advice, but first I have to tell you about something. Promise you won’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you. But I could be pissed at you.” She gave me a teasing smile. “What’s going on?”

I swirled my wine in the glass, watching tiny bubbles form and spin in a cyclone. “So... I might not have been completely honest about my... relationship with Ford.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”

I cringed, knowing how it would sound. “I might be fake dating him to get the board to like me more by association.” I peeked up at her to see her setting down her glass.

“First of all, Gage told me what’s going on with Thomas, and it’s bullshit. They should trust you for the work you do, not stupid office politics.”

“I know.”

“And second...” She stalled, studying me with a mix of hurt and concern. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I covered my face with my hands, sitting back in the chair. “I was embarrassed.” I uncovered my face to take a drink of wine. I needed it.

“Why would you be embarrassed?”

Heaving a sigh, I answered, “I made such a huge deal about our first date, thinking he liked me back, but while I was there, he asked me to be his fake girlfriend so he could get out of dating the Diamonds’ owner’s daughter.”

Farrah’s face scrunched with confusion. “Wait, couldn’t he just say no to her?”

“Not without having his contract cancelled the next year.”

“So fake dating you was preferable to real dating her?”

I nodded.

“And you agreed because?”

“Because of the board,” I explained. “Tallie thought it could be a good way for me to win some internal support.”

She shook her head and downed another swig of wine.

“And you can’t say anything because I signed an NDA,” I said. I knew she wouldn’t tell a soul.

“Mommy!” Tara said too loudly, looking up at us. “Can I change it to another show?”

“That one is fine,” Farrah said.

“But, Mommm—” she whined.

“Watch this one first, okay? Then we’ll talk.”

Tara grumbled but put her headphones back on, leaving me to talk with her mom.

Farrah turned her gaze back on me. “So why the urgent meeting? Guilty conscience?”

I shook my head. “I needed my life and love advisor.”

Farrah laughed. “The divorced mom with two baby daddies?”

That made me laugh too. “ No , the woman who’s living happily ever after with her billionaire boss and a beautiful, blended family.”

Her smile warmed and she tucked her foot closer to her bottom, holding on to her knee. “So what’s the question?”

Flattening both my palms on the table, I said, “Well, after the team dinner last week”—I checked to make sure Tara was still watching TV, and when I was sure she was, I whispered—"we kinda hooked up in the limo on the way to my place.”

Farrah’s jaw dropped open, and her voice rose an octave. “You had sex with him?!”

I shook my head, made a V with my fingers, and waggled my tongue in between them.

She nearly spit out her wine with laughter, and I giggled.

“I was not expecting that gesture from you. Sounds like it was... well-received?” she asked.

“Extremely.” My thighs were already clenching at the memory, wishing we could do that, and more, all over again.

“So it started fake and turned real,” she said. “What’s the issue?

“It started fake, and the lines have blurred. And then, get this.” I downed the rest of my wine, opened my phone to the messages from him, and passed it to her.

Her eyes tracked left to right like pinballs as she read the words, her lips slowly settling into a smile. “Mia, this is great! He likes you!”

My eyebrows drew together. “Did you miss the part where he said it would be great for this stupid show we’re putting on?”

Farrah rolled her eyes. “He’s really doing some mental gymnastics to keep his heart from getting involved. Did he say he’s been through a breakup or something?”

“I think he’s afraid of dying young, because of his mom. He feels like the team and his charity have to come first.”

Farrah shook her head. “I get that. But you’re not exactly a needy girlfriend. I couldn’t picture you begrudging him putting work first.”

I nodded. “That’s what I told him.”

“And?”

I held up the V again and waggled my tongue.

This time, wine dribbled down her chin when she laughed. “Damn you, Mia.” She picked up the hem of her shirt to wipe her chin.

I giggled, loving that I could be my real self around her.

With a smile, she said, “So what are you doing here? That flight leaves in a few hours.”

“It’s a bad idea, to go for a man who isn’t emotionally available.”

“It might be.” She shrugged. “But it could be a good idea to spend a weekend with a man good at...” She made the gesture.

I snorted out a laugh. But she had a good point. Ford may have lost control with me.

But I’d done the same with him.

And if it was all going to end in flames, I’d bring the s’mores.

I pressed the intercom on the desk linking me to Vanover. “Hey, Van?”

“Yes, Wino. I mean, boss?”

I rolled my eyes at Farrah and smiled. “Have my stylist pack a weekend bag for me. I’m going to Brentwood.”

“Yes!” he cried.

I gave him a confused look through the window. Then it dawned on me. “You were listening in, weren’t you?”

“Just doing my job.” There was a smile in his voice. “Your car—and bag—will be ready in an hour.”