In Her Own League

Chapter 1

Emmett

Is this the beginning of the end?

It feels like the beginning of the end.

At what point do I know this is my fate? That this is my last first day here. My last first staff meeting. My last first “hello” to the coworkers I haven’t seen in months.

An offseason has never felt shorter.

Typically, I’m itching for baseball to return, counting down the days until winter is over, but not this year. This year, I’ve dreaded the idea of returning to my office at the field, knowing my every move is going to be analyzed.

Because this season, I have a brand-new boss—one that no longer sees me as the right fit to be the field manager for Chicago’s MLB team, even though I’ve held the position for seven years now.

This morning, the film room is buzzing with noise.

Every person who works for the Windy City Warriors, outside of the players, is packed in the stadium-style seats.

This is the room we use to go over game film to prepare for an upcoming opponent, or when a one-on-one session is needed to make corrections.

Today though, we’re sandwiched in here for our first meeting with the new team owner.

Reese Remington.

The thirty-five-year-old is the granddaughter of the previous owner, a guy who held the title almost as long as I’ve been alive, an owner who allowed me to run my team the way I saw fit.

His granddaughter, however, judging by our interactions last season when she was simply training to take over, will be anything but hands-off.

Kai nudges my elbow with his from his seat next to mine. “What time do you want to meet tomorrow to go over the potential pitching lineup?”

“Let’s say eleven thirty.”

“I might have Max with me. I hope that’s okay.”

I give my future son-in-law a deadpanned glare. “Of course that’s okay, Ace.”

“I don’t think you can keep calling me Ace. You’re going to have a new ace pitcher this season. We just need to figure out who that is.”

“You’re always going to be Ace. Good luck to the next guy.”

Kai, or Ace as we call him, was the Windy City Warriors’ ace pitcher ever since he joined the team a few years ago. That is, until he retired at the end of last season, leaving me without my go-to guy on the mound.

But as much as I’m going to miss being able to count on him every few starts, I’m even more proud of him for making the decision that was best for his family. Especially because that family now includes my daughter.

A couple of years ago, the two of them met when Miller spent the summer nannying for Kai’s son, and the rest is history.

I couldn’t imagine a better man for my girl.

And now seeing Miller so calm and at peace here in Chicago with him and Max, it’s hard to remember the wild child I raised who once never felt settled in one place.

As proud of Kai as I am for calling it quits when the timing felt right, he was missing the game before spring training even ended. So, though I may not have him on my roster anymore, I now have him on my coaching staff.

That’s a perk of being the field manager of a Major League Baseball team. I get to hire my own staff, and there’s no one more qualified to be my new pitching coach than Kai Rhodes.

The door to the packed and rowdy room opens and my body instantly tenses, expecting her, but when a short redhead with a bouncing ponytail and three coffees balanced in her hands ambles through the entry, I relax back into my chair.

“Did I miss anything?” Kennedy asks, taking the empty seat on my other side before passing Kai and me each one of the coffees.

“Not yet.” I hold my cup up. “Thank you for this.”

“Anytime, Monty.”

“Happy official first day, Dr. Rhodes.”

My words cause Kai to beam from the seat next to me, looking over at his sister-in-law.

A heat creeps up her cheeks. “Thank you.”

Kennedy is not only the new team doctor, but she’s also married to one of the players—Kai’s little brother, Isaiah.

The Rhodes brothers have become a part of my family since we all landed in Chicago. There are times I take on a more fatherly role for them when they need it. There’s not a huge age difference between us, just over a decade, so other times, I’m simply their friend.

Yes, they’ve both been my players and me their coach, but our bond is a whole lot tighter than that. It just so happens that Kai is marrying my daughter soon and Isaiah married the team doctor who I work with closely, so it’s one big cluster of non-blood-related family.

“We’ll see you guys for dinner tonight?” Kai asks.

She nods. “We’ll be there.”

“Same,” I confirm.

Even though the film room is loud, I can hear the squeak of the door perfectly clear, and the sound has tension rippling through every one of my muscles.

Reese is the last to arrive and as soon as one high heel is past the threshold, my attention is immediately on her.

Short blonde hair cuts sharply below her jaw. A charcoal-gray pencil skirt paints her curves. Navy-blue eyes that are impossible to read coolly assess the room.

And when they slice to me, they silently scream how much she doesn’t like me.

Well, I take it back. I guess she’s pretty easy to read when it comes to me.

The unimpressed stare lasts only a second before she pulls her attention away and continues to the podium at the front of the room.

I don’t know what it is about me that bothers her so much, that’s caused such a bad taste in her mouth, but I feel the same way toward her.

However, I have my reasons.

First of all, the woman spent the entirety of last season informing me that her first year as the official team owner is the same year I’m up for a new contract. Like she needed to verbally remind me that the fate of my career lies in the palm of her hand this season.

Secondly, she’s already been on my ass about schedules, budgets, and reallocating funds, as if I’m the reason certain departments of the organization are operating in the red, and not because her grandfather didn’t have the energy to keep up.

Truthfully, there’s not an ounce of me that wants anything to do with the back end of how the club is run as long as my players are taken care of. I just want to coach baseball.

And lastly, her biggest fault of all . . . she looks like that.

My new boss is not only a pain in my ass, but she’s also stunning and the first woman my body has decided to pay attention to in God knows how long.

Eventually the rest of me will get the memo that we don’t like her. It just might not be until I’m packing up my desk at the end of the season because my new boss refuses to extend my coaching contract.

“You good?” Kai nudges my arm.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, of course.”

“Okay.” The word is laced with this annoyingly knowing tone that doesn’t go unnoticed when he leans over to Kennedy and the two of them share a look.

“I saw that,” I mutter.

Kennedy laughs. “We weren’t trying to hide it.”

Standing in the front of the room, Reese says something to the audience, but the crowd is so rowdy, everyone excited to see their coworkers after the offseason, that no one pays attention or tries to hear her.

I watch as her throat works its way through a swallow, like she’s pushing down the nerves, hands tightly fisted to the podium. And I get it. Not only is she the first female team owner that the MLB has ever seen, but she’s also the youngest.

But Reese is a boss. Not just my boss, but a gets-things-done, doesn’t-take-shit-from-anyone boss.

I saw it last year while she was training for this new role.

She’s the reason Kennedy is here and taking over the position she should’ve had years ago.

Reese saw what her grandfather didn’t—that the previous team doctor was a sexist piece of shit—and handled it.

She fired him and gave Kennedy his job, making her the first female team doctor in the league.

As much as I don’t love the idea of working for someone who doesn’t want me here, Reese will be a breath of fresh air for this organization. But first, she needs to get through this staff meeting.

She opens her mouth to speak again, but no words come out, nerves holding her back, the room too preoccupied with their own chatter to realize she’s here and asking for their attention.

Her knuckles go white from her firm grip around the podium, her knees slightly shaking, which I can only see because I’m sitting in the front row.

The laughter and chat behind me is pissing me off for her.

Fuck. I internally berate myself for what I’m about to do. Blame it on my daughter. She’s the reason I’m so damn soft.

“Hey!” I stand up, turning to face the room from my seat, and all eyes immediately fall to me. “Let’s have a little respect, why don’t we?”

The room goes silent at my tone.

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath.

Sure, I come off like a grumpy bastard most of the time, a little intimidating with my build and tattoos, but anyone who knows me knows I’m a nice guy until you piss me off. And this is pissing me off.

I retake my seat, feeling Reese’s attention on me, and it takes a moment for me to return the eye contact and look up at her.

She gives me a curt nod, her tone all professional when she says, “Thank you for that, Emmett.”

And then there’s that . . . Emmett.

She’s the only person in all of Chicago who uses my first name when everyone else calls me by my nickname.

And I know she does it on purpose, like she’s refusing to allow any sort of comfortability between us.

It’s as if she’s once again reminding me that she’s my boss, I’m her employee, and regardless of how much time we’re about to spend together this season, we aren’t friends and we’re never going to be.

It’ll make it that much easier for her to fire me at the end of the year.

Fucking great.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Reese Remington.” With the room silent, she confidently begins her first staff meeting. “The new owner of the Windy City Warriors.”

“Emmett.”