Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“What?” Tate asks, amused.
“It’s a long story, Mr. Brewer. Just know that I’m a pickleball wizard. I can’t be stopped.”
“Good to know,” he says, laughing as she struts out of my office with her ponytail swishing behind her.
He comes in and sets a bucket of theater popcorn on my desk.
“Holy crap,” I say, laughing in disbelief. “Where did you get that?”
“The cinema down the street.”
“You just walked in and got it?”
He shrugs as he sits in the chair Tally just occupied. “Yeah. You can do that.”
“Are you sure?”
“I just did it. I’m sure.”
My heart swells, and I can’t stop grinning. “Thank you. This is the sweetest thing.”
“So why is your intern going to fight the tech department?” Tate asks, taking a handful of popcorn.
“We’re having some issues with the guys not listening to the adjustments we request. I’m going down there to have a face-to-face with them tomorrow.”
Tate arches a brow.
“The website is the home of the organization,” I say. “It can’t look like shit. And if they can’t understand what we’re going for, I’ll find someone who can.”
He grins. “I like you fiery.”
“You should’ve seen me an hour ago. I threatened a printer. Had it quaking in its boots.”
His chest shakes as he laughs.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask, tossing a couple of perfectly popped kernels in my mouth. “By the way, you buttered this like a popcorn pro.”
“Good to know. I’ll add that to my résumé.” He takes another handful from the bucket. “So I wanted to talk to you about a hypothetical situation.”
“Gotta love those.”
He reaches behind him and shuts the door.
“This stays between us,” he says.
“Of course.”
“If you were given a clean slate—that is, starting from scratch—what would you do differently to make this franchise a success?”
“Anything?” I ask.
“Anything.”
This is a marketing lover’s dream.
“Safe space?” I ask.
“Safe space.”
“Okay, then.” I rub my hands together. “First, I’d get rid of that terrible Raptors mascot and replace it with something elevated yet relatable. We’d build an iconic logo that’s fresh and marketable—something that looks great on merch. That sounds crazy, but it isn’t. Great merch is easy marketing, and the best brands have it figured out.”
“Those are great points.”
“I’m not done.” I chuckle, just getting started. “New colors that don’t scream Midwestern US high school basketball.”
“That’s an interesting comparison.”
I shrug. “That’s exactly what the dusty black and crimson screams, and that’s not the message we want to put out.”
“No, it’s not.”
“With that said, we’d update the facilities and overhaul the arena. Give people a reason to want to come and spend their money here. Make it a good time.”
He smiles, grabbing another few kernels.
“I don’t know a lot about hockey,” I admit. “But I’d look at the coaching staff and roster. We need people who are a draw. People love winners, sure, but they also love people with a story. People they can root for or against. It doesn’t matter.”
“I love that.”
“Stronger digital platforms. Involve the fans and increase engagement. Start traditions. People love a tradition!”
“Okay,” he says, amused. “That’s enough. I can see the picture you’re painting, and I love it.”
I grin. “You didn’t even take notes.”
“I didn’t have to. I happen to have infinite access to the notebook.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“I hope so.”
Our gazes connect, and I’ve never felt more listened to. I’ve also never felt so comfortable letting someone see inside me.
I hope so, too.
It’s terrifying even to let that thought run through my mind because things have been great—but there’s still time for things to go to shit.
And they do often go to shit.
“Don’t,” he says, throwing a piece of popcorn at me.
I try to catch it in my mouth, but miss. “Don’t what?”
“Get out of your head.”
“I’m not in my head,” I lie.
“You’re questioning everything. It’s like you have a button in your head that turns on when things go too smoothly.” He leans forward. “Stop expecting things to crumble. Expect them to go right.”
I frown. “But things do crumble.”
“Not when they’re built right.” He stands and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “I gotta go take care of a few things at the Brewer Group offices. I might be a few hours.”
I nod. “Call me later.”
“Of course. See ya, gorgeous.”
“Bye.”
With a simple smile that I feel in the depths of my heart, he walks out.
But he does leave the popcorn.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tate
I grip the steering wheel and hit the ramp toward home.
The dark sky is filled with millions of silver stars. The air is a perfect seventy degrees. I feel lighter, happier than I’ve felt in a long damn time.
I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
How did I get so lucky to find a woman who’s as brilliant as she is beautiful?
Gannon’s announcement has rolled around in my head nonstop. At first, I was certain I’d just cash out and go home. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized an opportunity was in front of me, and I’d be remiss to discount it altogether.