I kissed her wind-burned pink nose. “You texted back pretty fast. Your answer didn’t seem hesitant.”
“It was.” Her cheeks rose. “I’m glad I said yes. The day was perfect.” She splayed her fingers over my chest. “A real life on-the-road Fin’s-bubble. I only wish we could have spent more time with Zane.”
“Speaking of spending time with my family.”
She peered up at me with her dazzling green stare.
“I don’t know if you think it’s too soon to go away.”
“Go away where?”
“My mom called the other day. She invited us to Thanksgiving. It would be a quick trip to Bowling Green and back. Zane will be there.”
“The Coopers play on that Sunday at home.”
“Thanksgiving is on a Thursday. I’m not pushing you,” I said. “It’s about a two-and-a-half-hour drive.”
Craning her neck, Vee brought her lips to mine. “No matter what I decide, you should go.”
“I’m not going without you.”
“Let me think about it.”
Pulling her closer against me, I gritted my teeth and said, “I understand if you’d rather be with your family.” Clark’s warning rang loud and clear. “I’ll be with you, either place.”
Vee’s head shook from side to side. “I don’t want to be with my family. I’ll go to Bowling Green.”
Chapter 14
Vee
* * *
The NFL consisted of thirty-four teams. Of those teams, only the Green Bay Packers were publicly owned. Instead of an individual or family, the owner was a nonprofit community corporation made up of over five hundred thousand stockholders. Like other teams, the club was governed by a board of directors and an executive committee and had an appointed president and CEO. What made the Packers unique was that no one individual could own more than four percent of the shares. Their structure was designed to ensure that the team stayed in Green Bay.
The president and CEO of the Packers was on my long list of contacts. Not surprisingly, Aunt Rachel’s Zoom with all the owners went well last Friday. My goal was to personally contact each owner throughout this week. I started by calling an owner and the CEO of the Indianapolis Colts. Our situations for gaining ownership were similar, and she reached out to me after my father’s passing. We’d also spoken about my options regarding the Coopers CEO position.
My next calls went out to other teams with significant female leadership. Including the Coopers, 37 percent of NFL teams had female ownership. Each call was not only received without delay, but the support and encouragement among these successful women was a jolt of support to my ego.
The football operations side of the Coopers franchise had a slightly different schedule this week due to our bye. Between arriving early with coffee on Monday to meet with Don Tilson, our weekly executive board meeting, and my regular meetings with stadium operations, I didn’t make it out to the practice fields to observe practice.
Tuesday, I continued my calls. The practice field was empty as our coaching staff prepared for Sunday’s game in Tennessee.
Fin and I had fallen into a routine that included his savory breakfast preparations. My mornings of consuming only coffee or a small bowl of oatmeal were forgotten. Fin’s masterpieces included veggie omelets, frittatas, scrambles, as well as avocado toast and smoothies.
Wednesday morning, I stopped as I entered the living room, watching Fin pull a muffin tin from the oven. The sight of a perfectly toned man with muscles bulging from beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt comfortable in a kitchen brought back other memories of his skill set, making my insides twist and my nipples bead.
Fin’s blue orbs shone as he spotted me, a voyeur. “Are you watching me?”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “I was just thinking how accustomed I’m becoming to your breakfasts.”
His hair was unruly and his face contained evidence of his recent hiatus from shaving. The t-shirt he wore was worn and pulled tight across his chest. The nylon shorts did little to cover his firm ass and muscular thighs. All in all, the sight made my mouth dry.
Placing the hot tin on the kitchen island, Fin did as I’d done and scanned me from my hair to the toes of my shoes. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m supposed to look professional.”
Leaving the hot pads on the island, he came toward me until he splayed his long fingers over my hips and brought me against him. “Ms. Hubbard, you’re the epitome of professional. You see, I have a problem.”
