Page 19 of Nutmeg + Mistletoe
That’s where I met Maxine.
She was the first real friend I ever had who introduced me to the glorious hot mess that is chili cheese Fritos—yes, with actual chili and cheesesqueezed straight into the bag. It was ridiculous. It was delicious. It was the moment I knew we’d be friends for life.
And even though it’s July, we immediately start a shared Pinterest board for our Thanksgiving menu—because why not beextra—and start pre-planning where she and Eli will stay when they come down.
After a flurry of ideas, recipes, we finally say our goodbyes.
And then?
I do the one thing I’ve always wanted to do in my very own, brand-new, luxury apartment.
I run around screaming at the top of my lungs, jumping on every single couch and bed like an over-caffeinated kid at a sleepover.
Because this is mine. And I’m going to enjoyevery damn second of it.
Chapter four
Hot Dads & Hat Tricks
Grant
“We have a new midfielder starting next month, we just need to work out some visa issues and then he’s good to go.” Xavier announces, proud of himself for making a team choice that doesn’t come with any baggage.
We had no business owning a soccer club. None of us did.
Will’s got his hands full running a venture capital empire, Xavier practically breathes the financial services world, and I’ve spent years building my fortune, flipping struggling companies and stacking real estate like poker chips. Not one of us needed a sports team. Hell, none of us had the time for one.
But then there was one night with too many drinks, too much bravado when an old, foolish childhood dream started to sound like a good idea. And because we’re all too stubborn to back down once we put something on the table, it steamrolled. Fast.
Now here we are—three billionaires who should’ve known better—owning a professional soccer club. And it’s no longer just a vanity project. It’s something with teeth. Something that could be incredibly rewarding or blow up in our faces if we can’t get this damn team in line.
Right now, the Strikers sit at a frustrating 9-13-5. More losses than wins, but just enough points in the standings to keep them technically alive for the playoffs. The talent’s there — a roster full of players who could easily turn the tide on any given night. But consistency? Discipline? That’s where it all falls apart.
We’ve got at least five players who could be called up to play for their national teams next year. That kind of exposure — being able to say we’ve got Strikers represented on the world stage could bring in sponsors, press, international eyes. If only we could get them to act right long enough to make it happen. Because if we don’t? It won’t just be a bad investment. It’ll be a public disaster. And in our worlds, reputations are everything. The clock’s ticking and we all know it.
“Did you run that midfielder selection by Coach Jones?” Will asks, leaning back in his chair. “Last time I made a team decision without looping him in, the man had donkey shit delivered to my doorstep.”
Xavier just smirks. “I’m not scared of a little prank. Besides, Ididtalk to him. I wouldn’t dare make a final decision without his buy-in.”
Will slumps, defeated. “It was more than a prank. Isteppedin it.”
My head snaps to him. “You stepped in donkey shit?”
His eyes go wide with pure trauma. “Yes!”
Xavier chuckles, but then leans forward, tone sharpening. “And this is exactly why we need to get this team in line. From the coach down to the players, we’ve got a behavior problem. If we don’t get it under control, we’re going to look like we’ve made the worst investment of the century. This team needs to produce. Needs towin.”
I raise my hand to jump in but Xavier barrels on, cutting me off with a grin.
“Winmatches, Grant.Outsideof the ones they’re winning in jail when they get arrested for indecent exposure!”
“Which brings me toyou,” Xavier says, voice sharp and pointed.
“What about me?” I frown, already not liking where this is going.
“How are things coming with bringing Marlow up to speed? Getting her trained to take your spot as one of the owners?”
I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly.
