Chapter 2
LUCA
The second the door closes behind Isla Forrester’s back, I exhale.
Holy fuck. After giving myself a moment to gather my wits, I pick up my phone, and type out a quick message to my assistant.
Although, calling Gabe that is really doing the man a disservice.
He’s been working for the Thunder for over a decade and knows the team—and the stadium—inside and out.
He’s been invaluable at helping me understand all the parts of the organization that were working, as well as the elements that were not.
LUCA: Get me everything you can on Isla Forrester. She’s an excellent candidate and I want to make her an offer she can’t refuse.
I’m playing with fire. Hiring the first person I’ve interviewed is reckless. Even if it is based on her exemplary qualifications and expertise, and not the borderline uncontrollable pull I feel toward her.
You don’t get to be a multimillionaire by the age of forty-two by being reckless.
So what the fuck am I doing?
Fine. Isla is an excellent candidate for the job. She knows her stuff when it comes to branding, and hearing her ideas and passion for baseball was sexy as fuck.
And that’s the problem.
I can’t be finding anything sexy about my potential future employee.
“What’s got you glaring at that computer monitor so hard?”
I turn sharply at the sound of Dom’s voice. My closest friend, part investor in the team, and new chief financial officer, is standing in the doorway to the conference room I’ve rented for interviews today, leaning against the frame with a smirk on his face.
“Don’t tell me it’s because of the bombshell that walked out of here wearing a blazer and skirt with a Vancouver Tridents shirt.” He chuckles as he walks into the room and drops down into the chair Isla only recently vacated.
I turn my glare from my laptop to him. “Don’t call our potential new marketing consultant a bombshell. It’s not appropriate.”
Yeah. Neither is lusting over her, dumbass.
Dom raises his eyebrows. “You offered her the job? I thought you had interviews all day.”
“I haven’t made an offer yet, but I plan to. Why waste time when she’s the right person for the position.” I can only hope my succinct response is enough. But I’ve known Dom almost my entire life, so I should know better.
“Luca. What the hell? We need someone experienced and competent who can get the job done in such a short time frame, and she looks like she got her degree last year.”
Before I can fire back the reasons why Isla is the right hire, no matter how young she might be, my phone pings with a response from Gabe.
Her resume and references all check out. Her former employer said she was the best consultant they had, and they felt awful for shutting down the business, which cost her the job.
I ignore Dom’s pointed stare and type out a quick reply.
Draft up an offer that includes a relocation allowance.
Hitting send, I look up at my best friend.
“We’re hiring her. She’s passionate about engaging with the town, and she can see the vision I have for making the Thunder an integral part of the community again.
She knows baseball, and her references check out.
All I need from you is to give me the numbers on what we can offer as a starting salary and a relocation allowance. ”
Dom sits up straight, his mouth curving down.
“Relocation allowance? We never discussed offering that. We agreed all new hires would be temporary contracts until we know if we can even make this endeavour profitable. Giving a relocation allowance to everyone is going to eat into any possible profits, Luca.” He sounds exasperated, the way he has every time I’ve wanted to spend money on something he doesn’t agree with.
Tightwad.
I wave him away with my hand. “I’ll pay it myself if I have to. She’s the right person for the contract. We need to lock it down, Dom.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Dom’s brows pull together in a frown. “What were you saying about being appropriate toward our employees, Luca? Seems like you might be the one needing to remember that.”
I meet his gaze head-on. “Trust me. I’m aware. There’s nothing behind my decision except confidence that she’s the right person based on her qualifications.”
Lies.
Dom pushes to stand, still staring down at me. “Fine. I’ll send you those numbers. Minus the relocation allowance.”
I’ve known Dom most of my life. I can tell when I’m fighting a losing battle with him. “Fine.”
“Excellent. We still on for lunch?”
I nod. “Yeah. But I’m still going to get Gabe to cancel the other interviews. I’ll let you know what Isla says to our offer.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
His parting shot stays with me long after he leaves my office.
Do I? It’s not like me to be impulsive. But truth be told, from the second I stumbled into her at the coffee shop, my shitty balance working in my favour for once, I felt something.
Having her walk into the interview just a short time later felt like a sign. Her being absolutely perfect for the job, another.
I might be setting myself up for nonstop torture every workday, seeing her and not being able to do a damn thing about it, but she needs a job, and I need a marketing expert.
Most of all, I need to see Isla Forrester again.
Gabe raises his eyebrows when I give him the task of canceling the three other interviews we had scheduled for the afternoon, but he does it anyway.
And as soon as Dom confirms the starting salary we can offer, I take the letter Gabe has drafted, edit it to add a few things, and send it off to Isla.
With all that done, I push away from my desk and move to stand. But just as I push onto my feet, my left thigh cramps up.
“Fuck.” I grimace as I dig my thumbs into the muscle above my knee. I don’t get hit with these kind of cramps often, thanks to the rigorous exercise regime and regular physical therapy protocol I still follow. But every now and then, my body rebels.
The cramp turns into nerve pain, jolting down my leg, and into the thin air where my calf and foot should be.
I glare down at the pant leg covering my prosthetic.
I’ve never had a fucking foot on my left side, so why the hell does my brain seem to think I did?
Phantom nerve pain is common for amputees, but nobody cut off my leg.
I just never had one to begin with. My mom explained it to me when I was old enough to understand. That when she was pregnant with me, a band of tissue from the amniotic sac wrapped around my leg, just below my knee. The limb never even had a chance to fully form.
But the nerve centers in my brain sure as shit think it did, and every now and then, they like to send lightning bolts down my leg that hurt like a son of a bitch.
I breathe through the pain and continue to massage the muscles of my quad until it eases to a tolerable level.
Testing my balance, I push up to stand again, putting more of my weight on my right leg this time.
Once I’m confident I can walk, I close my laptop and put it in my bag before heading out of the shared office space I’ve taken over for the time being.
With my day clear now, I want to head to the stadium and check out the renovation work being done, as well as see if I can meet the new manager who will head up the coaching staff, who arrived last week with his family from Vancouver.
Half an hour later, I’m pulling my sports car into a parking spot outside the Cedar Creek Thunder’s home stadium.
The building is a mix of chipped-paint-covered bricks and aging, cracked concrete.
Decades of exposure to the elements, combined with a lack of upkeep and maintenance, have this place looking more like a creepy horror movie set than a place for families to enjoy the day at a ball game.
From my parking spot, I can see that the corrugated metal paneling covering the upper levels of seating is a patchwork of rust. Same with the tall light towers that frame the outfield.
And yet, despite its current run-down state, there’s something about the stadium that calls to me. This place matters. To me, to the team, and to the town. It’s my job to remind everyone of that.
Fixing up the building and the field is the easy part. With enough money and a good construction crew, this place will look incredible in no time. And already, I can hear the sounds of the team I’ve hired hard at work.
Rebuilding the team and getting the town on board is another story. And that’s why hiring Isla was so important. She gets it—the importance of having Cedar Creek believe in the Thunder again.
Because she’s a mother… It’s crossed my mind more than once that there might be a Mr. Forrester, even though I didn’t notice a ring.
She’s a mother, which means her kid has a father.
Honestly, if she does have a partner, it would be a good thing.
I need something to shut down the instant attraction I felt for her.
The fact that she has a kid doesn’t affect my decision to hire her in the slightest. But I could see it on her face when she mentioned her son; she was preparing for me to use that information against her.
Instead, she achieved what I think she wanted to.
She proved she was quite possibly the only candidate to have the right motivation to see this project through.
Not that I would know, seeing as I didn’t interview anyone else…
Pressing the button on my key fob to lock my car, I head inside and make my way to the locker room, and more importantly, the coaching offices next to it.
I offered to temporarily set up the coaching staff in the shared office space I’ve rented, but the response was clear: they wanted to stay where the players would be.
Shag carpet, chipped paint, and all.
Sure enough, I find the man I’m looking for in the office.
Rafe Montego is the former starting pitcher for the Vancouver Tridents major league team.
He retired several years ago, and three months ago, I convinced him to come out of retirement and join us as the head of the coaching staff.
He and his wife moved over in July, their only kid being in university, I believe.
And he’s not alone. With him is the batting coach, Levi Hutton, who’s been with the team a couple of years, with a similar background to Rafe. He played a season in the major leagues before having to retire after suffering a devastating knee injury.
“Luca, good to see you.” Rafe stands up and reaches out a hand. I shake it firmly, nodding at him.
“Likewise. I had some time free up in my schedule and thought I’d stop by and see how things are progressing.” I turn to Levi. “Levi, hope all is well.”
He nods, lifting a chipped Thunder mug, which has the most tacky cartoon storm cloud logo on it, to his lips. Taking a sip, he then grimaces. “Aside from the sludge we’re calling coffee around here, everything’s fine.”
I give him a small grin. “Coaches’ office needs a new coffee maker. Noted.”
He tilts the mug in my direction. “Appreciated. And maybe a better logo?” He glances down at the mug. “This looks like something a toddler drew.”
I bark out a laugh. “Couldn’t agree more.”
We chat for a while, going over the new players they want to take a look at recruiting, as well as equipment that needs to be replaced.
When I leave the stadium later, I feel good.
Confident that things are moving in the right direction for the Thunder.
I’ve got a solid coaching staff in place, the stadium is getting some much-needed repairs, and soon, I hope to have a team in place to help overhaul our image and reignite the town’s love for the team.
A team that needs to include Isla Forrester, for reasons I don’t fully want to think about. Back in the safety of my car, I open up my email and try to ignore the thrill I feel at seeing a response from Isla waiting for me.
Luca,
Thank you for the opportunity to interview for the position today. I am pleased to accept your offer. I do require time to secure housing prior to starting work, but I will make that my top priority and am happy to continue compiling a list of ideas for the Thunder’s rebrand in the meantime.
It was a pleasure meeting you today. I look forward to working together soon.
Sincerely,
Isla Forrester
As much as I believe Isla is the right person for the job, a wave of trepidation flashes over me at her acceptance letter. It’s what I wanted, and yet, I know now that I have to tamp down any attraction I felt toward her.
She’s my employee, and I need her to make this plan a success. Acknowledging that she’s beautiful and captivating is a distraction I cannot afford.