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“I’m starting to think so. Except Baron is the family name and they really, really want the Comets here.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Maybe, but so far no one seems to have the backing that Houston has.” He wouldn’t be surprised if along with a ready-to-go stadium, and appealing tax breaks, the Barons didn’t offer something ridiculous like paying team salaries for the first few years. If he’d learned one thing in the last two days it was that the Barons could probably afford to buy their own country, never mind a hockey team.
“If anyone can put up with a committee of cigar smoking old farts trying to win the team over, you can do it.”
The thought of Page smoking a cigar made him smile. Not exactly an old fart by anyone’s standards. Though technically she wasn’t part of the committee, it was clear if her family wanted a hockey team in Houston, then so did she. Still, hockey or no hockey, he was pretty sure she was as intrigued by him as he was with her. So much so, that instead of flying home for a few days before his next stop, he was thinking of just staying in Houston. How crazy was that? “If you mean that I paid my dues by getting slammed into the boards and bringing my team to the Stanley Cup more than once qualifies me for battling with committee members, yeah, I guess so.”
“How hard are they trying?”
“They’ve put me up in a suite in a five-star hotel.”
“Nothing unusual about that.”
“I don’t mean a junior suite. I’m talking Prince William, his family, and staff kind of suite.”
Henry whistled. “How do I get your job?”
How Daniel got booted out of hockey was not something he would ever wish on his kid brother—luxury suite or no luxury suite. Without thinking, he reached down to rub his knee. Funny, it hadn’t bothered him much at all since arriving in Houston. Probably all that heat he thought he would hate. “You don’t want it.”
“A few days of high living is something I could get used to.”
His brother didn’t know the half of it. “Should I mention they took me out on their yacht yesterday?”
“Yacht?”
“Yep. Moored in the Gulf of Mexico.”
Henry started to cackle with laughter. “I’m sorry. You on a boat?”
“It’s a ship. Boats are smaller.”
“Potato patahtoh. You get seasick in a bathtub.”
“Okay, no need to exaggerate.”
“Who’s exaggerating?” The words came through with more laughter.
“They gave me some pill. Worked like a charm. They took me for a spin around the gulf. It was nice.”
“Nice? Just nice? How big a yacht?”
They’d told him, but somewhere between wanting to puke his guts out and awed at the degree of luxury, he’d forgotten. “Let’s say Greek tycoons have nothing on Texas Barons.”
Henry whistled again. “So is the team moving to Houston?”
His brother was teasing; Henry knew there was more to his job than who could schmooze better than the others. Or who had the granddaughter with the most captivating smile and cutting sense of humor.
“Okay. What’s taking so long to answer? That was a joke, but now I’m not so sure. What aren’t you telling me?”
“There’s a lot to consider. They have a stadium ready to go. They’re willing to build bigger and better with tax payer and private money. There’s no shortage of hotels for fan and team accommodations. Houston has a major airport hub. The idea of a rivalry between Dallas and Houston does hold appeal.”
“But…”
And that’s where his brother knew him too well. Daniel rubbed a hand down his face. He shared a lot with his brother. Almost everything. But he wasn’t ready to share Paige yet. And he wasn’t ready to admit that the lines between what was best for the team and what was bet for him were starting to blur. The question was, what was he going to do about that?
Chapter Seven
