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“Just stating a fact.”
“You should have been an athlete,” she said. “A certain amount of insane self-confidence comes in handy.”
“Who says I wasn’t?” he said. “And who says it’s insane?”
“I—” The intercom buzzed, interrupting her. Probably just as well. She might have crossed the line if she’d kept going. She wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t crossed it already. Alex didn’t seem annoyed but you didn’t get to his level in business by showing your hand before you were ready. He’d already shown a slice of ruthlessness that made her wary of what might happen if he was truly crossed. Her studies had shown a man who was liked and respected in the business community but one who wasn’t afraid to make hard decisions.
But what choice did she have? If she walked away from the Saints now, she’d have to go begging to pick up another job at another team. Any real job, that was. She’d probably have to go to a minor team. And she couldn’t quite stomach that.
Maybe it was stupid pride; after all, a lot of people got their start working with a minor league team. However, she wasn’t exactly starting out; she’d been part of the Saints all her life. And stepping down from a major league team to a minor was a sign you couldn’t cut it. Her dad sent people to the minors to give them a chance before firing them. He said you either picked yourself up or were on the way out. And mostly, it was the latter. She couldn’t even remember who the last person Tom had banished was … or yes, yes, she could. It had been Will Sutter. Spoiled rich kid. And, as she remembered him, jackass-in-training. Tom had given him a shot because he’d been friends with Sutter senior. It hadn’t worked out.
Shit. Was that what Alex was doing to her? Humoring her dad? No. She wouldn’t allow it. She wasn’t a pampered princess who’d done nothing to earn her place with the Saints. She could do this. She’d prove it to them all. Including Alex goddamn Winters.
The buzz of the intercom cut through her thoughts again.
She picked up the phone. “Yes, Dev?”
“Mrs. Tuckerson is here to see you. And Ms. Finch. And Oliver Shields.”
Ollie was here? With Hana and Shelly. Damn. She knew a council of war when she saw one. They weren’t going to react well if they found the object of their ire sitting in her kitchen.
Time to pick a side, it seemed. Or be the one left standing while everyone else started the game without her.
“Let them up,” she told Dev, and hung up the phone.
“Visitors?” Alex asked.
“My friends.”
“Who?”
“Hana Tuckerson, Shelly Finch, and Ollie Shields.”
“You’re friends with Ollie Shields?”
Typical that he homed in on the one male in the trio.
“Ollie and I practically grew up together.” Oliver had joined the Saints as a very green rookie at seventeen when Maggie had been fifteen.
“You two dated, didn’t you?”
“A long time ago.” She smiled at the thought. Ollie had been her first big crush. And somehow they’d burned that out and come through to the other side still friends. “How did you know?—”
Three sharp raps on the door. Hana’s knock. “Hold that thought.” She stepped toward the door.
Alex moved to block her. “I need your decision.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not allowed five minutes to think about it?”
“Not when you’re about to let the wife of our star pitcher, the team captain’s fiancée, and the best first baseman we have through the door. You need to figure out what team you’re on. Because if it’s mine, then your job starts now. With them.”
“They’re my friends.”
“Which should make things easier for you.”
