Chapter 4

Braden

Okay, now that I’m here at the resort, and no longer in the close confines of a small plane or the backseat of a car, I should feel free of Carly. I should be able to relax after several long weeks of grueling meetings and training sessions.

I love the Colorado mountains and breathe in the fresh, rain scented air, still heavy from the passing storm. It doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, I feel more tense than when I was figuring out the flight situation. I am feeling more drawn to Carly, but her mother has taken her away and is playing matchmaker.

I can’t get over the look of frustration on Carly’s face as her mom dragged her away; was she asking me for help?

The Carly of a few years ago would never, but I saw glimpses of a newer, softer Carly today. She didn’t kick me back to my seat when I tried to calm her down on the plane, didn’t toss off my hoodie when I offered it to her in the car.

I shake off my sense of confusion; it’s time for vacation and I should be enjoying myself with my best friend. But, as it turns out, he’s not even here yet. I head to my room prepared to nap the afternoon away.

I find myself unable to relax and hope that a swim will help take the edge off. Decked out in my suit, I head out to the extensive back yard, with a pool that takes up a good chunk of it, extending out to appear to drop right over the edge into the vast mountains that surround us. The view is breathtaking and the only thing that distracts me is the sound of Carly’s sigh from behind me.

I turn to see her mother introducing her to someone a year or two younger than me, dressed in stiff khakis and a button up shirt while poolside. Matt had warned me that his dad was inviting a bunch of his new employees as a bonus for a job well done, and I could see he wasn’t exaggerating. The place was crawling with these eager eyed and overdressed people.

Except, wasn’t Mr. Hagel hiring women these days? I spot one young woman I don’t recognize picking at a vegetable platter near the kitchen door, but the rest of the strangers are men. Young men, suspiciously close to Carly’s age.

Was that what that look she gave me was for? Did Carly suspect this vacation was a set up? I follow her and her mother as Mrs. Hagel leads her around the pool like a prize pony, showing her off to all the men. The vegetable girl is being studiously ignored and I’d feel sorry for her if my hackles weren’t rising on Carly’s behalf.

Her mother had always been a tiger, wanting the best for both her kids, and even I was included in that, bless her.

It’s become clear as a bell that she’s matchmaking, and even clearer that Carly is miserable. The goobers are falling all over themselves to impress her and as soon as Mrs. Hagel is finished with the introductions and disappears back in the house, I think Carly will make a break for it. It looks like she tries to slink away, but then she’s surrounded.

They’re like a pack of nerdy wolves, all trying to offer her a drink, or pull up a chair for her. They smell that Hagel money and power and are vying to be the winner of this bizarre game. Or else they think they’re actually going to score with her? She is stunningly beautiful after all, even rumpled from the plane. But they wouldn’t dare, would they?

Why do I care? Why are my hands clenched so tight that my nails are cutting into my palms? This has nothing to do with me. I turn to seek out the excellent bar I know Mr. Hagel will have well stocked with only the finest liquor, but I’m too keyed up. Adding alcohol to the mix could prove dangerous so I grab a bottle of water and head back to the pool.

I can’t make myself turn away from the spectacle in front of me long enough to change into my trunks and dive into the pool to try to swim off my unexpected anger. Carly’s laughter wafts over to me, but it’s not her real laugh that I’ve heard a million times over the years.

I’d laugh if it wasn’t pissing me off so badly. Making nice was never her strong suit. She was full of opinions and happy to give them to you, eager to debate if you disagreed, even happier to expound if you agreed. But where’s that feistiness now? Why in the hell is she being so patient with these losers, so… compliant? That’s not Carly. Not my Carly— I mean, the real her.

I slam myself into a lounge chair, tossing back my water, which does nothing to cool me off. It’s a balmy day after the rain, but it may as well be high desert heat with the way I’m steaming. I’d have thought after ten minutes they’d have seen how bored she is with them and give up, but nope. They’re still trying. One even nabbed the veggie platter and brought it over to her.

Who the fuck are these guys anyway? Oh, I know they’re all fairly well accomplished or Mr. Hagel wouldn’t have hired them. Mrs. Hagel wouldn’t have deemed them appropriate for her only daughter.

But who did they think they were? Did they actually believe they had a shot with her?

Fat fucking chance. I’d destroy each and every one of these suits. They’re nothing more than yes men, without an original thought in their heads. They’d be in prison for murder because they’d bore Carly to death in the first year of marriage.

They know nothing about building something from the ground up. Not the way I took on the brokest joke of all the football teams in the league and helped them rise from the ashes to be one of the most beloved and strongest. It took years of strategic investing, smart hiring, and always going with my gut, even when faced with dissent. It was my gut that made me see there was opportunity there. Now after going for years being derided as one of America’s biggest failures, my team’s fans are fresh and engaged and we’ve earned the media’s respect.

Could any of these douchebags do something like that? Something other than complete the project that was put in front of them? Hell, no. They wouldn’t know how to pick a smart investment from a pipe dream, which is what every last person called my intention to buy the team five years ago.

Worse, none of them know Carly. They wouldn’t have a clue how to treat her right. By the dead look in her eyes right now, it’s clear she’s not talking about art, or that she’s driven by the desire to make it accessible to everyone. They don’t know how hard she works and how tough she is on herself.

I know.

But why does that matter? Why am I still so pissed off by the fact Carly might walk out of here with a boyfriend?

It looks like her new fan club is finally dispersing, so at least I can rest easy knowing she won’t be miserable much longer. As soon as she scampers off and is out of my sight she’ll be out of my mind. However, she’s not alone for ten seconds before an especially tenacious one returns. He’s sandy blond and gangly, with a smarmy grin showing off way too many big white teeth. Is he the one who plays tennis and knows whoever in the hell Modigliani is? The one that Mrs. Hagel really wanted her to meet? I take out my phone to search Modigliani, keeping an eye on him as he oozes up close to her. My phone falls into my lap as he makes the actual fucking decision to slither his arm around her waist.

I sit straight up, startling a bird in one of the potted plants hanging overhead, my hands balled up in fists. My mind goes blank for a moment, my body taking over, fully prepared to jump up and toss that asshole into the pool. Maybe jump in after him and hold him under. Just for a minute.

She shakes him off, making it look natural, so he’s not offended enough to leave. Her eyes are so full of misery it looks like she might start to cry. Also not like Carly, so that means she’s close to agony. Yeah, if this rando knew her at all, he’d see that and back the fuck off.

Before I can get up and head over to her, she manages to get a word in and slip away. The toothy goober stands there looking irritated for a second before heading over to report to his pack of khaki-clad buds. I keep my eyes on Carly until she slips out of the gate and heads around to the front of the house.

I ease back into my chair. Okay, she’s out of my sight now, so when is she going to get out of my mind? I grab my phone from where it fell when I shot up and my finger hovers over Matt’s number to see when he’s going to arrive.

But that look in Carly’s eyes is destroying me. I can’t unsee it, can’t forget about it. Stuffing the phone in my pocket, I get up and follow the way she left. I just want to make sure she’s okay. That’s all. Then maybe I can start relaxing.