Page 7 of Broken Play (The O’Ryan Family #1)

SEVEN

GREYSON

"Is this fate? Is this why I was traded?" I ask Birdie and J.D. "Do you think she'll take the job?"

"You better hope not because she'll be off-limits." My brother hesitates and says, "It's been two days since the meeting, and Mr. Anders said he would call."

Birdie claps her hands. "I can't believe she just showed up. She didn't know who you were in Denver, and you didn't know who she was. Crazy."

J.D. strokes her back. "Birdie, you had no idea who I was, either."

"Yeah, but you played in Vegas. I knew you all were athletes." She links her arms around my brother's neck, and they kiss.

I clear my throat. "Okay, this is about me."

"Oh my God, you're already a pain in my ass," J.D. says as his phone rings, and he reluctantly tears himself away from his wife.

Hearing only one side of the conversation, I mentally try to fill in the blanks .

"Yes, sir."

"I'll do my best."

"What time?"

"I'll let him know. Thanks." He taps his finger on his phone, a sure sign his brain is working overtime.

Trying to be casual, I ask, "Was that Mr. Anders?"

My brother scratches the back of his neck and blows out a harsh breath that sounds like he's been holding it all day. "Sutton accepted the job and wants us in her office tomorrow. I'm telling you, G, you need to keep this professional. No flirting. No innuendos. I mean it."

I grin, rolling my eyes as I stand and lean against the enormous stainless-steel fridge. "Please, when have I ever been anything but professional?" I blow a raspberry for effect. "Come on, have I ever done anything against the rules?"

J.D. stares at me with an arched brow, the corner of his mouth twitching like a highlight reel is playing in his head. Since no one is coming to my defense, I do it myself, fighting the smile tugging at my lips.

"Okay, so maybe I borrowed Dad's truck to sneak into the party that you wouldn't take me to in high school. And sure, I snuck a stray dog into my dorm in college, but he needed a home. He didn't have tags. Tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing."

My brother crosses his arms, biceps bulging out of the T-shirt he's wearing. "Maybe I would have. But what about the time you hotwired the golf cart so you could go get milkshakes with Stacey after practice? You were sixteen."

Is he forgetting why I was acting out?

"Oh, and remember when you had the O-line for Denver wear their uniforms to the charity gala? It's a wonder they didn't trade you then."

Holding my hands up in mock surrender, I admit, "All right, I've been creative when necessary."

"Yeah, when you want something."

"It was all harmless fun. Just relax. What's the worst that could happen?"

"We both lose our jobs. I don't want to be fired because of your sorry ass, G. Plus, you have four or five years left."

"Bro, I'm playing forever. This game is all I've got."

He pushes my chest. "Don't you dare say that. You have a family—our family. Three brothers, a sister, and a father who loves you."

"Damn, it was a figure of speech. I thought Birdie would help with that anger you have inside you."

He drops his hands. "I'm under a lot of pressure. And you may not understand it yet, but you are too."

"You act like I'm a rookie. Don't forget I've won the big game."

"Yeah, and you would have lost one too if it wasn't for the backup. Your head wasn't in the game, and I think it had something to do with Sutton. I just don't want you to go back down that path when you..."

Is my brother and best friend going to the one place he's never supposed to mention?

"Don't you fucking say it." My head is spinning, and he brings up the past. "Why did you trade for me if all you're going to do is tell me how bad I am?

That I'm not professional? You're lucky I'm at this two-bit organization that now has a general manager who knows nothing about football.

" I shove the chair a few inches across the hardwood floor.

"I'm going to bed. I don't know who thought this was a good idea to have you. ..coaching me."

Taking the stairs two at a time, I slam the bedroom door, and it's like I'm a teenager all over again.

After I undress, I grab my earbuds and my laptop and watch film of myself in the big game—dissecting my footwork and my throwing position.

I'd love to be able to blame the offensive line, but they protected me. Gave me time to throw. I was just off.

Every player is entitled to an off day, right? Hell no. When you're getting paid millions of dollars per game, the switch always needs to be on.

Was I thinking about Sutton? Sure, but I prepared the same way as any other game.

There were distractions other than the ones in my mind.

All the interviews and appearances got to me.

Took my mind off football. The first time, Denver only allowed me media day interviews and press.

I did go to one party a week before for the athletic gear I endorse.

It wasn't Sutton, was it? It was all the media and sponsorships. I close my laptop, turn on my light rain sound, and finally nod off.

The next morning, J.D. apologizes again. "I'm sorry. We need to get off on the right foot."

"We're good. I still can't believe I'm here."

"It's Denver's loss, and I'm not just saying it to soothe your ego.

Your backup had a great game. I can name one hundred quarterbacks who have had one great game but then can't repeat it.

It was lightning in a bottle. Greyson, you are one of the best quarterbacks in the league.

One game doesn't change that fact." He rests his hand on my shoulder, sincerity in his eyes. "Are you ready for the meeting?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. "

The next morning, we arrive at the stadium where the offices are located, and we ride the elevator to the executive floor. A guy named Marlon greets us. "Good morning, Coach."

J.D. shakes his hand. "Marlon, have you met our new quarterback, my brother, Greyson?"

"No, sir. Nice to meet you, Mr. O'Ryan."

"Greyson's fine."

"Thanks, Greyson. Ms. Anders wants to meet with you separately. Coach, you can go in. Greyson, can I get you something to eat or drink?"

He's smooth, and I'm sure he has higher ambitions because of his suit and his slicked-back hair. He seems like an ass-kisser, so it's time for a prank. "Yeah, I'll take a mango-peach-carrot smoothie and a sausage biscuit."

As J.D. walks away, he smacks my stomach with a flick of his hand, just like he would do in church when I got out of line.

Marlon's eyes widen, like he has no idea where to get the smoothie I asked for, and it's a trek to the nearest McDonald's. "Um, okay. I'll be back. There's water and coffee over there with some bagels."

"Marlon, I'm joking, but if you show me where, I'll get a coffee myself."

"Nonsense, I'll get it."

I fiddle with a couple of magazines, then scroll to find pictures of Sutton.

She has no social media, which is crazy for a professional tennis player, but the more I search, the more pictures come up of her with one of the men's tennis players, and they've been photographed together for years.

It's like I'm watching Sutton grow up in front of my eyes .

I've met him before on a commercial shoot for a watchmaker.

This little tidbit of information only begs more questions.

J.D. taps my shoulder. "She wants to see you now."

"Is she a tiger or a cub?"

"She's intelligent and has a ton of questions. Don't keep our boss waiting, and remember..."

"I know. No flirting."

I press my hands against the armrest and straighten my tie. I never wear this shit. But my big brother said we needed to go in with respect, which we do, but I don't believe she would have cared if we'd shown up in athletic gear.

When I tap on her office door that J.D. left slightly ajar, she doesn't look up but says, "Come in."

I push the door open, clearing my throat. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, have a seat. I hardly know where to begin. But let's start with you telling me about yourself."

I can always talk about myself. "I'm a quarterback. I've been a quarterback all my life, except when Tommy Salinas broke my arm during a monkey bar challenge in elementary school," I laugh, remembering the event that landed me in the hospital with a broken arm.

"And..."

"That's it."

"I don't believe that, Greyson."

"Well, I would bet if I asked you the same thing, you would say, 'I'm a tennis player. I've been a tennis player my whole life,'" I say, trying to make her understand my meaning. "It's the one thing where I know I'm the best. It's everything I love. "

She flattens her lips, and her brows dip as she searches my face like she's trying to read the defense before she takes the snap. "So... when you were traded to the Armadillos a couple of weeks ago, how did that feel?"

I let out a short scoff and twiddle the peppermint wrapper before popping it into my mouth. "Like my wife betrayed me."

"I didn't think you were married." Her head tilts, and a teasing smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

Crossing my arms, I lean back in the chair.

"I'm not. I'm married to football. To the game.

" I'm only half-joking, but I've never met someone that I've wanted a long-term relationship with.

"Back to your original question. I want to kick Denver's ass so bad that they come back begging for the Armadillos to trade me back. "

"And is that what you want? To go back to Denver?"

Good question. Do I?

Like a good Boy Scout, I say, "I'm committed to this team and to my brother."

"Good. J.D. has agreed that the two of you will help get me up to speed on football jargon. I'll be at the camp, talking to the players. I want to run this organization from the ground up instead of from the top down. My first concern is how you'll be with your brother as your coach."

"He's been coaching me my whole life. My dad is the head football coach at LaGrange, so I never lacked for either of them telling me exactly what I did wrong. I'm used to it. Don't worry."

She seems to take my answer at face value as she scribbles something on her pad of paper. "What's one thing you would have changed about the front office staff in Denver if you could have?"

"They were always secretive and wouldn't tell me if someone was on the trading block or if they were going to release someone.

If I were in that position, I would want to know what the quarterback thinks.

Does the QB think the receiver is worth every penny?

You can't just replace chemistry. People have it or they don't." I wink, already breaking my promise to my brother.

"So, input. You would like to have some input."

"Yeah, I guess."

"I have one more question." She takes a deep breath and taps her pen against the paper. "When we kissed in Denver..."

"Did I like it? Definitely. Oh, but what was your question?"

"It's more of a statement. It can't ever happen again."

My lips twist to the side. I mean, I know we can't or shouldn't, but we have a connection.

"Yikes, you know how to serve a slice to a man's ego," I joke.

Her eyes soften at the tennis reference, drawing a grin from me.

"We'll be around each other quite a bit while I'm coming up to speed, so what happened in Denver stays between us, okay?"

I lift my hands and let them fall back to my legs. "J.D. knows. He knew as soon as he saw you. He recognized you from the photos from the club, but you won't hear a peep from me."

"Good. What can I do to make this transition from Denver easier on you?" she asks as her eyes flit to the window.

"This is basically my hometown, so I'm good unless you can acquire a super-athletic wide receiver."

"Make a list of suggestions, and we'll go over it tomorrow. Why do you think they would fit into this organization? How would they complement you or the scheme your brother runs?"

"Okay, there is one thing you can help me with now. How about you teach me to play tennis better, and I'll teach you about football?"

Right when she's about to answer, the owner, her dad, walks in. "Sounds like a great idea to me. Why don't you and your family come over for dinner tonight?"

"I don't have a family, sir."

"Nonsense. J.D. said you all have a large family. Gather up as many of them as you can and come over tonight. It's mandatory."

Sutton shakes her head in disbelief when I say, "I'm not sure who I need to listen to, Sutton or you."

"Greyson, Sutton's the boss. Everyone reports to her. She's smart and determined; that's why I chose her to lead this team. I won't be around much."

I should be listening, but all I can think about is that sultry kiss we shared after my playoff win.