Chapter 10
Reese
It’s a perfect Sunday afternoon in San Diego. The sun is shining over the field, and the stadium is already filling up with fans, ready for the first game in this series.
So, because of the weather, and maybe a few other reasons too, I make my way out through the visiting tunnel instead of hiding out in an office the way I have the past handful of games.
The dugout is practically silent as I step into it, with every player on the team currently out on the field warming up or back in the training room getting pregame treatment.
The only chatter is from our field manager, who is leaning up against the barrier that separates the dugout from the field, speaking quietly to Kai Rhodes’ son.
Max is sitting on the railing and Emmett is hunched over behind him with a single arm wrapped around the little boy to keep him steady.
His other is pointing out toward his players and explaining things in Max’s ear.
His grandson’s ear?
I don’t exactly know if he refers to himself as that, but his daughter is marrying Kai soon. And though she’s not Max’s biological mother, everything I know about their situation tells me she is his mom.
But the idea of Emmett being someone’s grandfather seems entirely unfathomable.
He’s only in his mid-forties and not to mention, he looks like that.
He’s at an age that he could be a father to a toddler himself, and the fact that his daughter is old enough to be Max’s mom means he must have become a dad when he was extremely young.
I wonder where her mom is. Was Emmett married before too?
“Mama!” Max points to Miller, who is crossing the field to them after visiting the bullpen.
Oh, I should go. A sense of urgency takes over, pushing me to leave. I already felt as if I were intruding on a moment with Emmett and Max, but with his daughter here too, it seems even more invasive.
But before I can turn down the tunnel and go back the way I came, Miller’s eyes move from her son up to me. And when she lifts her hand in a polite wave as she approaches the dugout, it catches Emmett’s attention.
“Reese,” Emmett says, standing straighter, arm still secured around Max and eyes wide like he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Sorry. My family was just stopping by. They’re headed up to their seats now.”
He really does have it ingrained in him that I don’t care about the sentimental part of this whole thing. Maybe he forgot about our conversation at the game yesterday, or maybe he’s just waiting to see if my actions back up my words.
“That’s okay. They can stay for however long they’d like.”
His worried expression melts, giving me a look that’s equal parts impressed and appreciative.
I take a step forward. “I was just . . .” Stalking you. Being an absolute creep. Checking out how good you look in those baseball pants. “Coming to say hi before the game.”
His voice and smile go soft. “Well, hi.”
“Hi.”
“Hi!” Max yells, waving his hand in my direction.
“That’s right, Bug. You call them out just like your mama taught you.”
“Really, Millie?”
Miller just shrugs, entirely proud of herself for saying it like it is. Because she knows as well as I do that I’m not here because of a simple hello. I’m here because I’m starting to have a hard time staying away.
“Hi.” I smile at Max before shifting my attention up to his mom. “And hi. I’m Reese.”
Crossing the dugout to join them, I hold my hand out to shake hers. It’s formal and a bit stiff but also seems like the correct way to introduce myself to my employee’s daughter.
Because that’s who Emmett is to me.
“Miller.” She shakes my hand. “I can’t believe we haven’t been introduced before. You’re all I ever hear about anymore. Reese this and Reese that. Isn’t that right, Dad?”
He stares at her dumbfounded. “I truly don’t know where I went wrong with you.”
Miller just laughs and I watch as this loving smile blooms on Emmett’s lips from hearing the sound. You can tell they equally adore each other. It’s obvious by the way they feel safe enough to playfully talk a bit of shit.
“We really are headed up to our seats now, though.” Miller lifts Max into her arms. “We’ll see you after, Dad. And, Reese, it was nice to finally meet you.”
“It was. Enjoy the game.”
After Max and Miller say their goodbyes to Emmett, he turns my way. “Remember when I said she was going to say something inappropriate, and that you’d have to ignore it?”
I lean a hip on the railing next to him. “So, you talk about me, huh?”
“Talk is a loose term.” A grin hitches on one side of his lips. “I was more so complaining about you.”
I do my best to hold back my laughter. “I really am living rent-free in that head of yours to be complaining about me in your free time.”
“You have no idea. And are you trying to tell me that you don’t complain about me outside of work?”
I tilt my head in faux confusion. “Why would I ever think about you when I’m not at work?”
He huffs a laugh. “You’re terrible for a man’s ego, Reese.”
“Thank you. I was worried I might be losing my touch.”
Leaning closer, Emmett props his elbow on the railing, resting his cheek against his closed fist. And I find myself leaning into his space too.
“Where are you watching the game today?” he asks.
“I was thinking I’d take a seat in the stands for once. Watch it with the fans.”
“That sounds nice. Which section can I look for—”
“Monty!” a woman calls out from the field, interrupting his question. “Hey!”
It takes me a moment to register who she is before realizing it’s the reporter from that press conference who was hitting on Emmett in front of me . . . and everyone else.
“Oh. Hey . . .” He hesitates before saying her name as almost a question. “Kelly. You’re covering the game today?”
“I am. Do me a favor and save me a postgame interview? It’ll give me some brownie points with my boss to get a one-on-one with everyone’s favorite field manager.”
“I doubt I’m everyone’s favorite.”
She puts her hand on his upper arm, and I feel my eyes widen as I watch the contact. “Maybe not everyone’s. But you’re mine.”
I want to like her. I want to root for her. I want to see more women succeed in male-dominated fields the way she is, but good God. It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.
Is everyone just completely obsessed with this guy?
“I’ll be covering the whole series actually,” she continues. “And I believe I’m staying at the same hotel as your team. What do you think about extending that interview over dinner?”
Well, damn. I admire the courage, but it doesn’t change the fact that I find myself hoping he turns her down.
And he does . . . kind of.
“As tempting as that sounds, my daughter is in town for this series, so we have dinner plans. But thank you for the invite.”
I can’t quite tell if he’s turning her down because he wants to, or if his plans with Miller truly are the reason he can’t get together with her later.
Apparently, Kelly can’t quite decipher Emmett’s motives either. “Totally understandable. Family comes first. But I’ll be at the hotel bar tonight if you feel like a nightcap afterward.”
“Sorry,” I cut in before I can think better of it. “But the game is about to start, and we need to finish prepping.”
Kelly’s expression gains an annoyed edge when she looks at me, but she’s all smiles again when turning to Emmett and saying, “Good luck out there.”
“Yep. Thanks.”
Emmett slowly turns back to face me, single brow raised and the most knowing grin on his lips.
“What?” I ask, entirely innocent.
“We need to finish prepping for the game?”
“Yes. You need to focus.”
“I need to focus?”
“I think we all just need to focus. And you know, getting friendly with a reporter wouldn’t look good for the club.”
Now he can’t hold back his laughter. “You make it sound as if I’m sleeping with her.”
It takes everything in me not to ask if he has.
“Which I’m not, by the way,” he supplies
“Didn’t ask.”
“But you wanted to.”
I open my mouth to tell him he’s wrong, but judging by that stupid smirk on his face, he’d know I was lying.
“And we’re not friendly,” he continues. “I hardly know her.”
“She called you Monty. You said it yourself. Your friends call you Monty.”
“You don’t.”
“Well, we aren’t friends, Emmett. I’m your boss.”
He leans in closer, looming over me and keeping his voice low for only me to hear. “It’s always good to remind yourself of that when a female reporter, who I barely know, starts making you jealous, huh? And just so we’re clear here, there’s no part of me that wants to be friends with you, Reese.”
Just a few weeks ago, that statement would’ve meant something entirely different. But I catch the insinuation in his tone.
It’s dangerous. Whatever game is going on here.
And I can’t seem to stop myself from playing.
I look up at him through my lashes. “I don’t want to be friends with you either.”
“Good.” His voice is a deep timbre that I can physically feel crawl under every inch of my skin. “Glad we’re on the same page.”