He thought he should refrain from pointing out that it was nine thirty in the morning. “Thanks for asking, but I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” She picked up a black ceramic mug emblazoned with HBIC in red on one side and the Knights’ silver shield logo on the other. Donovan chose not to worry about what else filled the cup besides coffee. She gestured for him to take one armchair while she sat across from him. She crossed her legs and leaned toward him. “How are you doing?”
Donovan rubbed the back of his neck. “I have some things on my mind.”
“Are you sure you don’t want something from my stash?” she asked with a smile and nod toward the bar. “I only supply the best.”
He sighed. “It’s tempting.”
A concerned expression replaced her smile. “Are you sure you should be here without your agent? He’d have your hide if he thought you were negotiating a contract extension without him.”
Donovan chuckled. “I can handle Adam. But, no, that’s not why I’m here. It’s not football-related. But we’re both looking forward to the team’s offer.” He had one year left on his contract. Contract extension talks had already started between Donovan’s agent and the team, but nothing was imminent. That’s how contract negotiations went. He was used to it by now. Or as okay with it as a player could be.
This might be his last contract, certainly the last one guaranteed to come with a big payday, since he was an “aging” player at thirty. The NFL was wild that way.
“I’m sure you are.” She settled back against the cushion and studied him. “Then what’s troubling you?”
He sighed. “It’s about Sugar Blitz.”
She nodded, familiar with his latest venture. “Okay. What about it?”
He quickly explained the bakery’s declining sales. She nodded, sipping her coffee while he spilled his guts. When he finished, he blew out a breath. “Maybe I will have that coffee.” He stood and walked across the room to pour a cup. As he made the return trip, he prayed she’d come up with some words of wisdom during the delay.
“I’m sorry you haven’t had the success you anticipated. I know how hard you work, so that’s not the cause of the problem.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “When I took over the team, I quickly realized I couldn’t rest on my husband’s laurels. I had to put my stamp on the team and impress the league, which was not interested in having a woman, a Black woman at that, running one of their precious franchises.
“I asked myself, ‘What do I bring to the table? How can I make this team stand out—to fans and to players looking for a new team to play for?’ The answer came to me right away. My listening skills are top notch. I listened to players, coaches, fans, league officials. Anyone who had an opinion on how to improve the team. I went from there.”
Donovan nodded. “I thought I figured that out. Our cupcakes are the best in the city.”
Her lips spread into a grin. “I know. That’s why I have a standard weekly order for the front office staff.”
“And it’s greatly appreciated.” He smiled for what felt like the first time since—well, since a certain cupcake shop critic visited his shop.
Mrs. T took another sip of coffee. “But it can’t just be the cupcakes. People love cupcakes, but there are a lot of businesses supplying them. What makes people want to return to your store?”
He always appreciated her honesty. That’s why he’d sought her opinion. She wasn’t going to tell him what she thought he wanted to hear. He nodded. “I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out. I’ll do whatever it takes to make Sugar Blitz successful.”
She studied his face, then nodded. “I believe you will.” She paused, her head tilting to the side in contemplation. She spoke slowly. “Yes, I do believe you will.” She refocused on him, her expression now sharp and determined. “I have a favor to ask.”
What was she plotting? Donovan set aside his mug, granting himself a precious second to respond, then gave the only answer that made any sense. “Anything you need.”
She nodded as though his assent had always been assured. “You have your head on straight. You realize football doesn’t last forever. You’re focused. I admire your smarts. I always have. You know that.”
He sensed there was more to her flattery than, well, flattery. “Thanks, Mrs. T.”
Mrs. T set her mug on the end table next to her chair. “My granddaughter has recently moved back to town. She’s struggled to find her place in the world, and I really believe she could benefit from learning from an entrepreneur. A go-getter like you.”