Chapter 8
Reese
“Well, I hope you’re taking care of our girl out there in Chicago,” Jeremy says.
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Our girl? Please. He’s only laying it on thick now that another man is around.
“She takes care of herself just fine,” is Emmett’s answer.
And there’s something about the conviction in his tone that reminds me that I do.
Being ignored by every other team owner in the league did a number on my self-confidence today, so I don’t mind having a bit of it restored by the one person in my organization whose approval I’m finding myself eager to earn.
“I bet she does.” Jeremy’s attention swings back to me. “It’s been a long time, Reese. You look good.”
I want to tell him he looks exhausted from kissing up to the commissioner all night. But I don’t. Because I’m so fucking professional.
The sentence is barely out of Jeremy’s mouth when Emmett’s fingertips curl against my back. “Excuse us, but I need a word with my boss in private for a moment.”
“No problem.” Jeremy keeps his eyes on me. “I hope we can catch up soon.”
Not that I was going to agree, quite the opposite in fact, but before I can say anything, Emmett’s palm presses against my back, ushering me away from my ex.
“Why are you acting like a jealous boyfriend?” I ask over my shoulder, though my words are a bit slurred.
There’s an annoyed rumble in his tone as we continue toward the exit door. “Do not ask me that right now, Reese.”
I do my best, pressing my lips together and holding back my laugh. But I’m tipsy, so one slips out anyway.
We continue through the crowd when Emmett leans down, speaking quietly for no one else to hear us. “Are you okay?”
“Yep.”
“Are you sure?” I don’t miss the concern in his question.
“Super totally sure.”
I am fine, but like Jeremy said, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen one another. And I spent most of the day on edge, knowing I was most likely going to run into him here and just praying I wouldn’t have to hear him say, “I told you so.”
Thankfully, my field manager got me away before he could.
Emmett opens the main door for me, allowing me to exit first before he closes it behind him, blocking out the buzzing noise of everyone partying inside.
I’m still buzzing though, that’s for damn sure. Having no one to talk to all night gave me plenty of time to drink this wine. And I am feeling it.
The lobby’s silence is a stark difference to the noisy ballroom-turned-bar, so Emmett’s voice is perfectly clear when he says, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
“Anywhere other than here. You don’t need to be around these people any longer than you already have been.”
As much as I hate to admit it, Emmett is a calming presence when he wants to be. Sure, he’s excellent at going toe-to-toe with me, but I’m learning he’s equally talented at composure when the moment calls for it.
He also does a good job at differentiating between those two instances, a trait I’d imagine he developed by raising a daughter.
As we make our way to the elevator, he takes two plastic cups by the water station and pours our drinks into them, handing me my wine once again. We go two floors up to the casino level and as soon as the elevator doors open, cigarette smoke chokes the air.
It’s even louder than the ballroom was downstairs, so when Emmett puts his hand on my lower back to usher me through the swarm of people, he has to lean in even closer to say, “Outside.”
He keeps his fingertips pressed into me, guiding me through the drunken crowd. It’s an eclectic group. Bachelorette parties. Twenty-first birthday parties. Some random guy who looks like he just lost his life savings at a blackjack table.
Vegas is weird.
I’m buzzed, but definitely not drunk enough for this. But then Emmett slips his arm around my waist because there’re way too many people we’re attempting to move through. And it’s then I realize that, nope, I am drunk enough for this. Because I’m not trying to pull away from him.
The outside air is by no means fresh, but it’s so much better than the stale recycled air in the casino. Our hotel is right on the main strip, so though it’s late already, the sky is still illuminated from all the Vegas lights.
“Are your feet okay to walk?”
I look down at my heels. “I could run a marathon in these babies.”
I couldn’t even finish a marathon in running shoes, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I’m sure you could, Reese. Walk with me, then.”
“Are you going to ask me about my ex-husband while we’re on this walk?”
“There’re a lot of things I want to ask you while we’re on this walk. I didn’t know you were married before.”
“That’s not a question.” I take another long sip of my wine from my plastic cup like the fancy bitch I am. “And of course you didn’t know that. There’re a lot of things we don’t know about each other.”
Looking down, he arches his brow at me. “Maybe we should change that.”
Fuck me, he looks good in that suit. Perfectly fitted to his wide body, tatted hands spilling out past the cuffs at his wrist. And thick thighs that want to test the durability of the fabric in the way it pulls across his muscular legs as he takes each step.
And no baseball hat tonight, letting me witness his handsome face without the shadow of a brim to conceal it.
“Did you know he was going to be here?” Emmett asks.
“I assumed he might be. I heard he had a new position in the commissioner’s office. Hey, look! Isaiah and Kennedy got married there.” I point at a small white chapel, recognizing it from a particular newspaper article.
Without paying attention, I step off the curb to cross the street and almost eat shit as I do.
“Okay.” Emmett loops an arm around my waist to steady me. “So much for that marathon.”
“It’s not my fault that I’m buzzed. No one would talk to me. I got bored. I was nervous. And why am I telling you anything?”
“You don’t have to tell me shit, Reese. But I like the idea of you starting to talk to me again.”
Arm still around me, he leads me into a different hotel.
The air isn’t as stale here. The crowd isn’t as rowdy.
Near the entrance, there’s a small cocktail bar that’s hidden and quiet.
Emmett gets us a spot in the back where two plush chairs face one another.
He orders us another round before he sits and gives me every ounce of his attention.
His position is widespread and sprawled out, his legs open around mine. The outsides of my knees kiss the insides of his in a way that feels far too intimate because he’s my employee, so I cross one leg over the other to buy myself some space.
But then Emmett leans his elbows on his knees, crowding me again, and I don’t have it in me to lie to myself a second time by pretending I don’t like it.
I’ve truly never felt small in my life, but the way this man’s body covers mine in this protective manner has me thinking that if I ever gave myself permission to feel fragile, it’d be safe to do so here.
“So talk to me,” he urges.
My lips are loose tonight. “Jeremy is kind of a prick. He doesn’t come off that way, but—”
“Oh, no. Trust me. He comes off that way,” Emmett interrupts. “Did you get him a job?”
“You mean in baseball? No. We met years ago when he was doing data and analytics for the MLB and living in San Francisco. I was finishing my MBA at the time. But maybe you already know that. I don’t know what you know.”
“I don’t know much, Reese. I think that may be part of the issue with us. I don’t know much about you at all.” The server drops our drinks off. Emmett pushes my wine toward me. “But I’d like to.”
A warmth rushes my cheeks at the soft and sincere way he says that. Or maybe it’s the wine that’s making me hot. Who knows at this point. But I’m starting to understand how my grandfather had a hard time saying no to this man.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Keeping your buzz going, so you keep talking to me. Oh, no. You caught me.”
“You’re doing a great job. Keep it up.”
I try to hide my smile behind my glass and watch one mirror on Emmett’s mouth as he brings his bourbon to his lips.
“We were married for three years,” I tell him.
“Amicable separation?”
I toss my head from side to side. “Once I came to terms with what our marriage was to him, then yes. He tried to take the team from me. It was easy to walk away after that.”
I take another sip of my wine. “I grew up around the clubhouse. I knew I was going to take it over one day. But my grandfather wasn’t going to just hand over the team without any experience.
I had to get my MBA. Did that. I had to intern with the MLB, learning the baseball side of things.
Did that. Started working for the San Francisco office, educating myself on the game from the numbers point of view.
Did that. Met Jeremy there. Got married.
He tried to take the team from me. That’s super fucked up, right? ”
“Yeah, Reese. That’s super fucked up.”
“I mean, people can change their mind. It happens all the time. But the things he suddenly wanted came out of nowhere. He had never mentioned wanting any involvement in running the team, then all of a sudden, he wanted in on all of it. He assumed marrying into my family gave him that right. My grandfather was pissed. I was pissed. You’d be pissed too, right? ”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m currently pissed.”
I hesitate when I realize I’ve probably already said too much. “I don’t want to just sit here and shit on Jeremy.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Because I do.”
I huff a laugh. Okay. Maybe I do too. “He legally wanted fifty percent of the team ownership to be under his name.”
“Wow. He can go fuck himself for expecting that.”
“I know! Right? Fuck him!”
“Fuck him!” he echoes.
I sit back in my chair with a heavy sigh. “Emmett, I know you think I’m being careless with some of the decisions I’ve made, but I promise you, I’m just trying to do my best. You have no idea how desperate I am to do well.”
My field manager’s face softens with understanding.
“Is he who made you so nervous today? You seemed on edge all night, looking around.”
“Oh God.” I exhale a self-deprecating laugh. “You noticed that?”
He brings his bourbon to his lips, watching me from over the rim. “I had my eye on you most of the night.”
That heat rushes up my face again. And though I like the way those words sound coming from him, we both know that’s not what he means. He was simply trying to have my back tonight, the way I asked him to.
“One of Jeremy’s selling points for him taking over instead of me was the concern that if I were the face of the team, no one would give me the time of day. And today only proved that he was right. His theory was on full display for him to witness.”
“He wasn’t right.”
“Emmett—”
“He wasn’t right, Reese.” His words are laced with so much conviction even I almost believe them. “And I’m really fucking tired of people telling you that you can’t do this job.”
“No one thinks I know what I’m doing, including you.”
He pauses for a long moment and when he speaks again, there’s this regretful tone to his voice. “I need to apologize—”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. I need to explain myself because the last thing I want is for you to view me with any sort of comparison to them.” He nods in the direction of the hotel we’re staying at. “I don’t like how you were being treated tonight.”
“I can handle it.”
“Yeah, I know you can. But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”
Those kind brown eyes are filled with an apology he doesn’t owe me. Because in this moment, for the first time today, it feels like I’m not entirely alone. And that means more than he probably realizes.
I shrug nonchalantly. “I’ll feel better when we finish the season with a better record than each and every one of them.”
A warm laugh bursts from Emmett’s chest, instantly bringing a smile to my lips. “You read my mind. This conference is supposed to put the competition on pause, but watching those other owners around you tonight, all it did was make me want to beat every one of their teams on the field for you.”
“For me, huh? You’re the one up for a new contract this season. Don’t you think a winning record would benefit your case?”
“Yeah, well, why can’t it do both? You said it yourself, Reese. We’re on the same team. Don’t you remember?”
I find him with a teasing yet testing smile on his lips and I mirror it with my own.
“Yeah, I remember.”