The Quarterback by Tal Bauer
Chapter Eight
Colton shiftedhis weight from foot to foot in the lobby of Nick’s office. Not just an office, but the executive suite lobby on the top floor of a tower Colton could see from every corner of campus. Jesus, he hadn’t realized Nick was that high up in his company. Though, if he could simply decide Colton was going to be an intern with him, he had to have some kind of pull in the place.
He just hadn’t known how much.
Thank fuck he’d bought all new clothes.
He smoothed his tie down the front of his button-down again. Nick’s executive assistant was an older Hispanic woman, her curly salt-and-pepper hair pulled back off her handsome face and sweeping cheekbones. She watched Colton with a smile while she worked at her computer. Across from her were two other cubicles in a wide empty space in the middle of five offices that lined the far wall.
One of the office doors opened, and Nick and an older man stepped out, both of them smiling as they finished their conversation. The older man was in a suit that looked like big money, and Nick was in dark dress pants, his own crisp button-down, and a pastel tie. His gaze swept the lobby and landed on Colton. A smile broke over his face.
“Jim, here’s the man I was telling you about. Colton Hall, my intern for the summer.”
“I know all about Mr. Hall.” Jim crossed the office and reached for Colton’s left hand in a backward handshake. If it was an awkward move for him, he didn’t show it. Smooth seemed to radiate from him, from his fluffy, scissor-cut silver hair to his double Windsor tie knot. And was that a Rolex on his wrist? “Fantastic job out on the field. You’re one hell of a quarterback. I’m at every game, watching from my box.”
In his box. Of course, this man would have his own executive suite. They started at $50,000 per season. “Thank you, sir.” He swallowed. It was hard to take compliments on his quarterbacking when he was broken.
“You’ll be back out there in no time. We’re happy to have you here for the summer. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. We’ll do everything we can for you.” He gripped Colton’s uninjured shoulder, smiled, and then slapped Nick on the back. “Later, Nick.”
Nick waited for Jim to disappear into his corner office—the one with the CEO door sign—and shut the door behind him. “Jim is a good guy. Effusive, but all top sales guys are.” His gaze raked over Colton, from his tightly knotted Texas tie and his white button-down to his pressed black pants and shining dress shoes. “You did great. You look perfect.”
He puffed up beneath Nick’s praise, like he always did whenever someone older and wiser noticed him and said he was good. He couldn’t stop his smile. “Told you I was fashionable.”
“You did.” Nick held open his office door and gestured for Colton to head inside. “Let’s get you set up. HR sent some documents for us to go over, and I’ve got a laptop to sign out to you. That desk over there across from Lizbeth is yours. For most of the week, you’ll be shadowing me.”
He followed Nick past his giant desk to a leather couch that overlooked a panoramic view of Austin. He whistled as Nick sat at one end of the couch in front of a glass-topped coffee table that held a laptop and a stack of manila folders.
“You like your views.” He sat beside Nick, twisting around to take in the rest of the office. No Mad Men–style bar, but there was a decorative bookcase lining one wall, filled with awards and photos of Nick with what had to be important people. There were photos of Justin, too, as many as there were of Nick. Pictures of him as a young boy and pictures of him now, with Wes. Even a picture of him dancing, regal under a spotlight on stage at one of his practices in ratty leggings, leg warmers, and an oversize Texas T-shirt that definitely belonged to Wes.
“When I told Jim I was moving down from Dallas, he surprised me with this office. I can work from anywhere. I worked from my home office when I lived in the DFW area, since the commute into Dallas was so abysmal. But now that I live downtown, I can walk in.” He smiled and gazed out the window. Colton could see the university bell tower, the edges of the stadium. “I do a lot of thinking looking out there.”
“I can see why.”
Nick pulled the folder between them and flipped the top open. For the next hour, they worked their way through gobs of HR forms, including, to Colton’s surprise, his pay schedule and tax form. He hadn’t realized he was getting paid. For being a know-nothing ergonomics major and a broken quarterback, as well as a twenty-two-year-old with no professional experience, he was making twenty-four dollars an hour as Nick’s intern, working thirty-five hours a week.
“Thanks,” he said, signing the form. “That’s unexpected. And awesome.”
Nick smiled and moved on. He signed out the laptop to Colton, along with a keycard that gave him access not just to the main office but to the executive floor and Nick’s office. Nick handed over a parking pass, too. “Parking downtown is terrible. Did you drive in?”
He nodded. He’d circled for twenty minutes to find a spot, eventually parking in a hotel’s garage and paying thirty dollars for the day.
“This is a pass to the garage beneath the tower. You can park anywhere from the third to the sixth level. Just fill in your truck’s details and your license plate…”
This was way more than he’d expected. He’d thought he’d be filing papers, or working in a mail room, or playing gofer. Spending his summer one-on-one with a copy machine. He hadn’t expected all this. He watched Nick out of the corner of his eye as Nick flipped through the stack of paperwork, checking to make sure everything was signed and complete.
“Great.” Nick checked his watch. “Just in time. In twenty minutes, I’ve got a meeting with my team. You’ll sit in and listen, and after, we’ll review everything. I’ll give you a rundown of my accounts and my pipeline. And I’ll take you to lunch with my account executives, too. But since we have a few, do you want to grab coffee before the meeting?”
Colton smiled. “Yeah, for sure.”
* * *
By the endof the day, his head was spinning. He’d tried to take notes during the meeting, but Nick waved him off and told him to just listen and take his time with everything coming at him. So he did, listening as Nick’s team of four account executives and eight account managers ran through a comprehensive update on Nick’s book of business. It was mostly for his benefit, since some of the accounts the team talked about were in a holding pattern, trucking along as happy customers. Nick seemed to have a lot of happy customers.
He, Nick, and the account executives went to lunch, walking a few blocks to the Capital Grille, a place Colton had never been in the three and a half years he’d lived in Austin. He’d never been dressed nicely enough to walk through the doors. Until today.
They spent two hours there, talking about Nick’s most active customers and clients, as well as the potential clients he was courting through his pipeline. The six of them worked out a rough sketch of Colton’s workweek. He was going to cycle through the account executives, checking in with one of them each morning, before spending his afternoons with Nick. Nick’s goal, he said, was to give Colton a mix of client service and sales experiences, most of that coming from being deep in the thick of everything. He wasn’t ever going to see a mail room.
Excitement thrummed through him. It wasn’t football, of course, wasn’t the thrill of the game and the three magic seconds between snap and pass. He wasn’t carrying a team and all their dreams on each of his play calls, wasn’t charting the future in the half second he had to read the defense. But it was interesting. He could see a kindred competitive fire inside Nick as he spoke about his pipeline and how he was trying to win over customers and open new lines of business. He could understand that, get on board with it. He liked competition.
“Well, what do you think of your first day?” Nick asked, stopping by his desk at five o’clock.
“Is it time to leave already?”
Nick laughed. “It is. But I like that spirit.” He smiled. “I know this is a big change of pace, but I hope you had a decent day. I’m trying to keep this interesting for you.”
“I had a great time. And it’s a lot to take in, but I’ll get it all.”
“I know you will.” Another smile. “What are you up to tonight? Big plans?”
He shrugged as he powered down the laptop Nick had given him. He shut the lid, then grabbed his bag. He didn’t have a fancy business bag, so he’d brought a small gym duffel—the cleanest one he could find—to carry his things. Water bottle, his spare sling, a lunch he hadn’t eaten. “PlayStation and DoorDash, probably.”
Nick walked with him to the elevators, saying good night to Lizbeth on the way. “I thought you guys cooked most of your dinners.” Lizbeth said good night to them both, her smile still as warm and kind as it had been that morning.
“I only know recipes for twelve guys. I can eat, but I can’t eat that much. And since I’m not burning as many calories, the nutritionist wants me to scale way back. I’m not on twelve-thousand-calorie days anymore.”
“Only six thousand?” Nick teased as they waited for the elevator.
“Thirty-eight hundred.” Colton made a face. “I was starving for a week.”
“If I looked at that many calories, I’d gain ten pounds.” Nick motioned for him to go first into the elevator, then pushed the floor for the main lobby.
Colton nodded and followed Nick out of the office tower. The garage where he’d parked his car was to the left, but Nick turned right, and Colton went with him. “What about you? What are you up to?”
“Same thing I do every night—”
For a moment, Colton’s heart soared. I won’t be alone again tonight.
“Well, aside from the past two weeks.”
And plummeted, but he covered that up with a chuckle as he looked down, watching his shoes strike the sidewalk.
“I usually hit up the grocery store around the block and get something to grill. A bottle of wine. I’ll stop in a few days a week and just get whatever I need for the next day or so. It’s right on the way to my condo, so it’s easy.”
“Cool. Sounds like a decent setup.”
“It works well.” Nick squinted at him. “Do you want to come over for dinner? If you’re not doing anything, I can probably make you something a little healthier than DoorDash would deliver. I’m not sure about tastier, though.”
“Yeah.” Was that too eager? Was he smiling too wide? “I’d love to.”
“What are you in the mood for? Steak? Chicken? Fish?” Nick nodded to the grocery store as they turned the corner. “You’ve got about forty seconds to decide.”
Colton picked chicken, since they’d had steak for lunch—well, he had a steak salad; it was all he could eat one-handed—and Nick went straight to the meat counter and asked for the two biggest chicken breasts they had. He sent Colton for vegetables while he grabbed a bottle of wine, and they met at the checkout aisle with chicken, bell peppers, mushrooms, onions, and a bottle of white wine. Colton went through the checkout first and managed to get in position to slide his debit card through without Nick seeing. Nick was all set to pay when the cashier handed him the receipt.
He gave Colton a look as he grabbed the paper bags. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I found out I’m getting paid today. I’m going to live large.”
Nick laughed. “I thought we could grill kebabs.”
“Sounds awesome.”
Nick ditched his tie and rolled up his sleeves as soon as they got to his place. Colton stripped down to his undershirt and switched to the Terminator sling after he did his muscle squeezes and elbow extensions. He didn’t want to say anything and make Nick worry, but his shoulder ached. He’d been careful all day, but being in an office was more active than sitting in bed, and all that activity had moved throughout his body and into his shoulder.
He wanted to help, but chopping vegetables and making skewers was two-handed work. Nick slid him a glass of wine and said, “Your job is to sit there and talk to me. And enjoy yourself.”
He tried to hide his tentative first sip from Nick, but of course, Nick saw. He stopped chopping, waiting for Colton’s reaction. “I have beer, if you want that instead.”
“No, no.” He waved Nick off. The wine was lighter than he expected, brighter. Clean and crisp, like honeysuckle nectar on a summer day. His only other experiences with wine were stolen sips from his mom’s thick-as-tar red wines and the Mad Dog wine coolers he and his friends had downed when they thought they were the height of cool in high school. This was way different. Better. “I like it. I’ve never had wine this classy before.”
Nick arched an eyebrow. “Is this your first real wine? Outside of whatever you can buy on the bottom shelf of a gas station with a fake ID?”
“I mean, I sneaked some of my mom’s red wine before. It was pretty gross.”
“Red is an acquired taste.” Nick finished chopping vegetables and turned to the chicken. “White wine is easier to start with, and it goes well with summer. Pinot grigio”—he gestured toward Colton’s glass—“or sauvignon blanc. I might get adventurous and let you try a chardonnay.”
“Have you gone wine tasting out in Hill Country? The wineries are supposed to be amazing.” He saw advertisements for them all over the place, especially when parents weekend came around and the wineries and bed-and-breakfasts tried to siphon parents away from campus. His mom did that once: came up for the weekend and stayed at a winery outside of town. She spent more time there than visiting campus. Or him.
“You know, I never made it out there.” Nick seemed wistful. “It was something Cynthia and I said we’d do, but we never took the weekend and did it.”
He took a gulp of his wine. Had to clear his throat after. “Cynthia. Is that… Justin’s mom?”
Nick nodded. He’d moved on to assembling the kebabs, lining up slices of bell pepper, mushroom, and onion in between chicken cubes. “My ex.”
“Justin never talks about her.”
“He wouldn’t. They’re estranged.”
Silence hung, thick and heavy. Colton fidgeted. He’d wandered into a minefield, and he didn’t know how to fix it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Justin never talked about the divorce?” Nick lined up a half dozen kebabs in a shallow glass pan. He didn’t look at Colton as he fiddled with the skewers.
“No. He only said you were moving down here. I think Wes was the one who said you were getting a divorce.” He frowned, trying to think back. No, Justin hadn’t ever said anything about it. One day, Nick was a part of their lives, and it was something Colton had just taken as fact, like Wes being gay and Justin moving in. Justin and Nick were a package deal, he’d thought. Wes clued him in to why it was Justin’s dad and not Justin’s mom and dad a little later, but other than that…
“I left her for him.” Was it his imagination, or was Nick stabbing the vegetables and chicken a little more violently? “For Justin. She became intolerant. No, that’s not accurate. She always was, but I didn’t let myself see it.” He sighed. “It came to a head, and I had to make a choice. Her or him.”
Colton’s jaw dropped. His fingers curled on the countertop, nails digging into the pads of his palm. He chose his son.
Justin is so fucking lucky.
Nick shook his head like he was shaking off the past. He washed his hands, then poured himself a glass of wine, larger than the one he’d poured Colton. “Ready to head outside and start the grill?”
Colton followed him to the balcony, and while Nick put the kebabs on the grill, he carried plates and forks and the roll of paper towels out to the patio table. Nick gave him four kebabs, taking two for himself. Before he plated Colton’s, he slid the chicken and veggies off the skewer so Colton could eat one-handed.
So fucking lucky.
As if on cue, both of their phones blew up with text messages, photos from Justin and Wes out at the ranch. Justin astride a horse, Wes in silhouette in the sun on his own horse. Cattle spread across a pasture that stretched from horizon to horizon, scrub grass and West Texas lowlands. Dust rose in puffy clouds behind the cattle and their horses, and the picture looked hot enough that Colton’s neck started to sweat. There was a close-up of Justin, smiling for the camera with dirt smeared across one cheek, his blond hair tumbled over half of his face beneath the rim of his cowboy hat. Wes standing on the lower rung of a split rail fence, peering at the herd. And then a truly stunning sunset, burnished gold and fallen-star blue in watery layers above the minimal scrub brush of the Trans-Pecos.
Nick beamed at his phone, hearting every photo. Colton was close enough to Nick to see him save every one and then take the close-up of Justin’s dirt-smudged face and make it his phone background, replacing a picture of Wes and Justin from the champions gala in February. Colton saved the sunset.
Looks amazing, bro,he texted. Gorgeous.
I’m so exhausted, Justin texted. I can barely even type.
He sent a line of laughing emojis.
Was a good day,Wes texted. That was two more words than Colton expected from him.
Looks like you both are doing great!Nick texted.
Even my hair is tired.Justin, again. Colton sent more laughing emojis. How was your day? Bored with the internship yet?
Not at all. I loved it.
Colton did great! Nick texted. He’s going to do wonderfully.
“Thanks.” He smiled at Nick.
Nick didn’t even look up. “It’s true. You are.”
His smile faded.
Better you than me, Colton.This time, Justin sent the laughing emoji. I’ll take the hospital, thanks. Say no to spreadsheets.
What about the ranch? From Wes.
“Oh, God, are they going to have a conversation in front of us while they’re in the same place?” He groaned as Nick laughed.
I’ll take the ranch, Justin texted, as long as it comes with you. Heart emoji.
Wes sent a single heart. Colton sent a vomit emoji. Justin sent a glare emoji.
I’m glad you’re doing great. Nick, being the adult, being the peacemaker. I was thinking about you both all day. Thank you for the photos.
Justin hearted Nick’s message and then sent I need my beauty sleep. Talk to you guys tomorrow! He sent a blowing kiss emoji. Colton thumbs-upped, Wes said nothing, and Nick sent back Good night. Sweet dreams.
“Another glass of wine?” Nick asked, setting his phone facedown on the table.
“Sure.”
Nick gathered their plates and took everything inside, then came back out with the half-empty wine bottle. He poured more for them both and sat back down. The sun had set while they ate, not as spectacular as Wes and Justin’s sunset had been, but enough to turn the sky periwinkle and pink and for a dusting of stars to glitter overhead.
“I didn’t know when I got this place if it was really my style,” Nick said with a sigh, settling back against the patio chair. “But I could get used to this.”
So could I.Colton sipped his wine and tipped his head back. So could I.
