Читать книгу The Builder - Grayson Reyes-Cole - Страница 5

Chapter 3

Effective immediately. Effective immediately? Effective immediately!

For a full five minutes, Jada stood before the immense estate house gaping at the closed front door. Oh yeah, she was shocked. Had that really just happened? Had the greatest active running back in the league just quit on a whim? Quit in the middle of a record-breaking season? Quit on her watch?

He couldn’t have.

He just couldn’t have.

Jada fiddled with her cellphone. She could call Dane and tell him what had happened, right?

She’d never failed him before. So he would understand, wouldn’t he? Hell no, he wouldn’t. Dane was going to kill her. Devon McAteer had been to the Pro Bowl for five years running. The man was a multimillion-dollar endorsement magnet who filled the seats in the stadium...any stadium. He was the Barracudas’ number one asset. And, apparently...he was retiring!

Jada had to take deep breaths. She had to get her blood pressure under control. Her pulse raced. Was this what a heart attack felt like? Or a stroke? Calm down, J, she told herself. This was not her fault, right? Control, control, control. Covering her eyes with a hand, she tried to think. Nothing had happened yet. He hadn’t quit yet. No lawyers had been contacted. There was no letter. She didn’t have to tell a soul what had just transpired. All she had to do was work her magic and get Devon to change his mind. She’d done it before. Despite being a woman in a world filled to the brim with testosterone, she was good at her job, which was why Dane employed her. She just needed to get ahold of herself and remember: nothing had happened, yet.

She shook her head. She wouldn’t have to face Dane over this because she wasn’t giving up. There had to be something she could do. She just needed to talk to Devon and reason with him. If she could get him to talk to her, maybe she could figure out why he’d made such a rash decision. Knowing his motivations might allow her to talk him down off the proverbial ledge. Was it proverbial? What made something proverbial?

Jada growled. He had her going in circles inside her own head. And what was that bit about drapes?

Maybe she should call Yvette and see what she thought about it? Jada’s best friend since grade school had always helped Jada out of a fix. Granted, she typically did it by getting Jada into another fix, but...

Jada discarded the thought nearly as fast as it came. Yvette couldn’t help, and since she was a Barracudas cheerleader, Jada telling her was almost like making this preposterous chain of events real. And it wasn’t real. Not until one of them left the house and other people found out about it.

Whatever she was going to do, she had to do it right away. Before Devon got comfortable with the idea of early retirement and picked up a telephone or—God forbid—got on the internet. The time to take action had arrived.

Raising her hand and straightening her back, Jada knocked on the front door. Please Jesus, let the man have on some clothes.

When there was no response, she rang the doorbell. Still, he didn’t come. She knocked again. Nothing. Jada stomped one of her stylishly booted feet. Sure, it was out of frustration, but she also liked stomping around in those boots, her favorite pair. They made her legs look longer, leaner. She felt confident in them. She tapped her foot as her mind raced.

Aha!

Determined, she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a ring of keys with the one she’d used earlier to let herself in. Once the door was open, she gasped as a large, dark hand divested her of the keys and slammed the door shut again.

“Hey! My keys are on that key chain.”

Stillness.

“I can’t leave if you don’t give me my keys back!”

Suddenly, the door opened again and her keys were stuffed into the neck of her t-shirt. Jada sputtered. Fury washed all over her. It was cold on the porch, but she barely noticed.

Who knew Devon McAteer could be such a jackass? Everybody said he was so nice. He always smiled in interviews. He never turned down an autograph. He volunteered weekly. He kissed babies for goodness’ sake! So...very...nice. Jada reached into her shirt to fish her keys from between her breasts and considered hurling them through one of the large windows flanking the doorway. Maybe that would be a little immature and a lot illegal, but no one would argue the man hadn’t had it coming.

Instead, she shouted, “I’m not leaving! I don’t care how long I have to stay. You have to come out sometime! You can’t avoid me!” Never mind that there were at least three entrances to the house, and she couldn’t possibly block all of them at once. A little effort and he probably could avoid her. After storming to the bottom of the steps, she went around the corner and tried the French doors off the living room. Jackpot. The doors came open as soon as she twisted the knobs.

Jada gasped for what felt like the umpteenth time as she was treated to a nice firm backside just begging to be squeezed.

“For God’s sake, man, put some damn clothes on!”

“What the hell? What is wrong with you, Miss Green? Why are you still here? Am I going to have to get a restraining order?”

“I think we should talk.” Jada stepped inside and closed the doors behind her. “About what?”

“You can’t just quit, Devon.” Her tone changed. She was beseeching, amiable. “Yes the hell I can. I’m not under contract. You told me that already.”

“But this has been your best season.” Carefully, she kept her eyes focused on his face. Actually, his flattened nose gave him character. Maybe his face would have been plain otherwise, but he looked...distinguished. She continued, “Everybody expects you to get a Super Bowl ring this year, and you deserve it. You’re on pace to break the record for rushing yards. You’ve already had a punt return—”

“I’ll never deny that I’ve had a good career, Miss Green—”

“Jada,” she inserted.

“Jada. As you’ve stated, I already have a record. I’m confident I’d have another if I stayed

in the game, which is enough for me. And I don’t need a ring to prove anything.”

“But you want one. Admit it.”

His lips thinned with strain. “I did. But would you believe me if I told you there are things

I want more?”

The God’s honest truth was no, Jada would not believe that. She worked with too many

athletes, too many men with single-track minds. Too many men who could have anything in the world they wanted but only truly cared about that one thing they had to earn. No pro athlete would ever say not getting a championship was okay.

“Well, if you can’t understand what I’m telling you, then understand there are plenty of athletes I look up to today who never got the main prize. There are plenty of athletes I’ve met through the years who were better than me but never even made it to the pros and never got a deal to advertise a sports drink. That’s humbling.” His words were poignant, and Jada couldn’t help but feel a little chastened. “Listen, Jada. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind about this.”

“But why? Can you just tell me why now?”

Devon studied her face. Jada wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for or what he saw. She considered herself hit-or-miss in the attraction department. Hers wasn’t the face or form one would expect to see on the cover of a magazine. She had dark skin and a rounded face. Her hair was cut very short, though always styled. And she was about forty pounds heavier than anyone portrayed as a love interest on TV. But some men loved it. Some of the players found her absolutely irresistible, and she frequently had to remind herself of that, especially when she got too comfortable with them. They often thought a more “hands-on” approach to therapy was okay.

What did Devon think of her? What did he see? For a reason beyond her comprehension, Jada desperately wanted to know.

“All I can tell you, Jada, is that there are more important things in the world. There is something I want more than a championship ring. As good as I am at football, there is something I’m better at.”

As passionate as his words were, Jada had seen him play football. In her opinion, there was no one better, past or present. No one. Maybe he wasn’t saving the whales, but... He just couldn’t leave the world of football.