Roman (Cold Fury Hockey #7)(35)

Chapter 13


Brian


I drag my forefinger across the wheel on the top of my mouse, causing the article I’m reading online to scroll down. It’s my last newspaper today—I read five a day online for general knowledge purposes—and I mentally calculate my next task, which is to review Gray’s trade report. She asked me last week to review her potential trade options for the team, with the deadline approaching next month. It’s not something she truly needs me to do, as she knows the talent pool far better than I ever could, but she asked me all the same.

I suspect it’s because she knows that once I stepped down as general manager of this team, my duties to keep me busy during the day were greatly reduced. Don’t get me wrong, as the owner and CEO of this organization, I have plenty to do on any given day. I work ten-plus hours a day keeping my business in the black and looking after my subsidiary interests. But she knows as well as I do that most of this well-oiled machine runs itself, and that I have a bevy of heavy-hitting executives who handle the details, giving me the perfect amount of information to let me rubber-stamp decisions.

Finishing up the article, I close out my browser and stare at the screensaver, which is a picture of Gray when she received her Olympic silver medal. One of the proudest moments of my life, and although there have been other moments since, and I’m sure more in the future, this one holds a special fondness for me because it’s where Gray finally committed to a life of hockey. While now it’s done from behind a desk, her experience from her years playing goalie have made her infinitely better at what she does.

My daughter Gray. My one and only for so long.

And now I have Lexi.

With a sigh, I consider calling Lexi to see how she’s doing, but when I talked to her last night, it seemed like she needed some space. This worries me, as she’s gone from a woman who was beyond excited to get to know her new family to a woman who has become guarded and reserved lately. I have no clue what happened, but I do pinpoint it to the game last week she attended in the box with Gray and me. From the moment she entered, she seemed distracted, and while she watched the action on the ice intently, I didn’t get any sense that she was truly excited to be there. That was very strange.

At the end of the game, Gray and I invited her out for a drink, but she declined, stating that she hadn’t slept well the night before and wanted to get home. I offered to take her and she accepted, but was unusually quiet during the trip. At the time I reasoned it was as she said—she was just exhausted—but in the past week, she’s continued to be restrained and withdrawn. I’ve invited her to lunch twice, dinner once, and she’s declined all three, stating she needed to work extra shifts at The Grind because they were short on help. I didn’t question this, but I did wonder why she didn’t perhaps invite me to come there and see her.

When I questioned Gray a few days ago about it, she brushed off my worry, stating that she was sure Lexi was busy. I also asked Gray if she’d reached out to Lexi herself, and she admitted she had invited Lexi out to lunch one day and had also gotten the same speech about needing to work extra shifts, but she just didn’t seem concerned about it.

So I’m trying not to be.

Perhaps it’s just she’s nervous because we are expecting the results of the DNA test any day, and maybe she has a sliver of doubt as to what will be revealed. While I don’t doubt for one second she’s my daughter, perhaps she’s just trying to remain a bit detached from us on the very slim chance her mother wasn’t being truthful with her.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts when my desk phone chimes. Connecting the call, I hear the front receptionist say in a low, murmured tone, “Mr. Brannon…you have someone here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment but seems confident you’ll see her.”

“Who is it?” I ask.

“She said her name is Georgia Mack,” she responds.

Instantly, my entire body tightens at the thought of that woman just mere feet away in the executive lobby. My pulse simultaneously fires along with a rush of adrenaline spiking through my system. To say I’ve thought about Georgia a time or two since our meeting almost two weeks ago is an understatement.

Leaning toward the speaker on the phone, I say, “Thank you, Claudia. You can show her back.”

Standing from my desk, I fasten the three buttons on my suit jacket and straighten my tie, although I have to restrain myself from running my hands over my hair in a desire to make sure it’s neat and presentable. But then I reconsider, because I’m getting ready to present a very buttoned-up, professional image to a woman who is wild, carefree, and seemingly not fond of this image I’m trying to project.

Shit.

I quickly unbutton my jacket, pull it off, and toss it over the back of my chair. Just as quickly, I unbutton my sleeve cuffs, thankful I didn’t bother with links today, and hastily roll them halfway up my forearms. My hand just gets my tie pulled away from my throat and loosened a bit when Claudia knocks on the door.

Jesus Christ, I’m a mess.

“Come in,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as nervous as I feel.

The door swings open and Claudia motions Georgia in, and I have to struggle to let my breath out in a controlled release. She looks amazing and I give in to admitting that I’m wildly attracted to her. I’m still put off by her brash manner, but there is no denying I like what I see before me.