Chapter 6 Luca
LUCA
Who knew trying to revitalize a baseball team would involve so many goddamn meetings.
Yeah, the thought sounds ridiculously stupid as soon as I think it.
But I’m used to a lot more hands-on doing to get shit done, and a lot less talking about it.
That’s part of why I sold GaitSync. Because I wasn’t interested in the business side of distributing the technology, I just wanted to build it.
The payout from selling it didn’t hurt, either. But how did I not realize buying a baseball team would mean endless conversations about budgets and plans.
Dom’s waiting for me in his office space to discuss those very things. Budgets and plans.
Moving through the corridor on the bottom level of the stadium, away from the coaches offices where I’ve just finished reviewing our new player recruits with Rafe, I smile and nod at everyone I pass.
It might be unconventional to be such a hands-on, present owner, but I don’t care. This place is my legacy.
Normally I’d take the stairs, but my leg has been aching a lot lately, so instead, I head for the single elevator that provides access to all the levels of the building.
I suppose I should be glad the previous team owners cared at least a little bit about accessibility.
The elevator arrives, and I step in, thumbing through some unread emails on my phone.
We’ve been waiting on someone to come and service the old elevator for a couple of weeks, nothing major, just routine maintenance.
It starts to move upward, then comes to a stop just one level up.
My gaze lifts as the doors open and meets a bright green one.
“Luca. Hi.”
I smile. “Hey, wonder woman.”
She blushes prettily. “Why would you call me that?” She moves to stand across from me, close, given the tight confines, but I wish she was closer. The elevator doors close and it slowly starts to move again. Pocketing my phone, I turn to her.
“Because I’m so impressed by everything you’ve managed to do in just a few weeks.”
Her blush deepens. I’m toeing the line of inappropriate, and I know it. Thank fuck she doesn’t seem upset.
What I hold back from admitting is the fact that ever since she started, Isla has had me tied up in fucking knots. Just looking at her makes me want to throw professionalism out the window and ask her if she’ll let me take her to dinner.
It’s ridiculous, seeing as I barely know her, but what I do know, I like.
Out of nowhere, the elevator shudders and comes to a complete stop, followed by an annoying alarm sound.
“Holy shit,” Isla says, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “What just happened?”
I turn to the panel and try to push the button to open the doors. “I don’t know.” Nothing works, so I press the call button next, hoping it’s still connected to somewhere.
“Tyson Elevators, how may I assist you?” a tinny-sounding voice comes from the speaker. Thank fuck.
“Hi, this is Luca Calloway over at the Cedar Creek Thunder Stadium. Our main elevator just came to a stop between floors, and I’m stuck in here with one of my staff. Can you help?”
“I’m sorry to hear that Mr. Calloway, I can see there’s been a small malfunction in your system. We’ll dispatch emergency services right away to get you out of there and send a crew to repair the malfunction. Hang on, let me get you an ETA on your extraction.”
I hear Isla stifle a giggle at the formal-sounding report, and turn away from the speaker to whisper, “Someone’s been watching a few too many spy movies.”
I can see her shoulders shake with silent laughter. At least she isn’t freaking out.
“Alright, Cedar Creek Fire is on their way. They said it could be up to an hour, however. I will have an elevator technician on premises later this afternoon. Would you like me to stay on the line until rescue arrives?”
“No, we’re fine. Thank you.” The audible click of the call disconnecting echoes in the small space.
“Should we text anyone here to let them know?” Isla asks.
“Yeah. Good plan. Dom’s probably wondering where I am, actually, we were meant to be meeting right now. I’ll let him and Gabe know what’s happening.” I quickly type out an explanation of our current predicament to the two of them, then pocket my phone. “So, I guess now we wait.”
Isla’s got her lower lip tugged between her teeth as she nods. “Guess so.” She sits down, cross-legged, leaning against the wall and gestures to the wall behind me. “Might as well get comfy.”
Shit. Sitting down on the floor isn’t as simple for me as it is for her.
I’m saved by her phone vibrating, and when she looks at it, I try to move as quickly as I can without it being obvious I’ve got a prosthetic leg.
It means mine are outstretched, not folded like hers, and I make sure my pants are fully covering the bottom of my leg, even going so far as to cross my good one over top to cover any sign of my artificial limb.
It’s silent for an awkward moment or two before I clear my throat. “How is your son liking Cedar Creek so far?”
That earns me a small smile. “I think he’s doing okay.
Back in Victoria, he was in a middle school, but here, he’s already at the high school.
Which could be a good thing, I guess. More options for classes and more kids.
” Her expression shutters. “He has a disability that he was getting bullied for at his old school. Time will tell if that’s a problem here as well. ”
My blood boils at the thought of her son facing bullies. I had my share of tormentors in school. Not many, seeing as Cedar Creek was a smaller town back then, but enough.
“I hope not,” I growl.
“Me too.” She shifts in her seat, and I watch curiously as a visible change comes over her.
As if she’s putting on a coat of armour, masking her vulnerability.
I wonder how often she has to do that. I wish she knew she didn’t have to hide it with me.
Because knowing her son has a disability and has been bullied for it only makes me want to protect them both.
“May I ask, is his disability serious? I know your temporary position doesn’t cover extended medical benefits but if you need anything—”
“We’re fine, but thank you,” she interrupts stiffly. “He was born with a congenital limb difference. But after twelve and a half years, we know how to handle most things.”
My heart pounds. Her son has the same disability as me? My thoughts spiral even faster, but I don’t get another word out before she changes the subject.
“Want to play a game?” she asks, and my eyebrows raise.
“Okay, what kind of game?”
“Nothing too serious, just a twist on something Charlie and I do at dinner each night. It’s called rose and thorn. The rose is the best part of something and the thorn is the worst. We use it as a way to catch up on our days.”
I nod. “Sounds easy enough.”
She smiles. “But the twist is, it doesn’t have to be about our days. So what’s your rose and thorn from, say, university?”
I consider my answer for a minute. There are things I’m not ready to reveal. But I don’t want to lie, so I get creative. “Rose would be my thesis project. Thorn would be the loan debt I had to pay off after graduating.”
Isla laughs. “Tell me about it, I'm still trying to do that.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to offer to pay it off for her as I’m hit with another spike of desire to protect her. Ridiculous, insane, and over-the-top as it might sound, I want to do that for her. But I’m smart enough not to say it. “Okay, your turn. Same question.”
She lets her head fall back against the wall, her gaze going upward. “Rose, managing to graduate while raising a toddler. Thorn would be the statistics class I almost failed.” She makes an adorable face. “I hate statistics.”
I chuckle. “I don’t blame you. There’s a reason Dom is the numbers guy.”
“You two are close.”
“Very. We’ve been friends since we were kids. He and his wife are high school sweethearts, and probably the two people who know me the best, aside from my parents.”
“Sounds like me and Juniper. She’s my best friend.”
We smile at each other, our gazes locked. The wall between us, that of boss and employee, feels like it’s come down and we’re just two people getting to know each other.
Which is dangerous and thrilling, all at the same time.
“My turn to pick a question,” I say. I want to know everything about this brilliant, beautiful woman. “Rose and thorn for luxury items.”
“That’s an intriguing question.” Isla smiles. “Rose is definitely a high-quality Earl Grey tea with real bergamot. It’s so much better than the stuff that uses artificial flavourings.”
“Do you have a favourite brand?”
Her face falls slightly. “I’ve only had it a couple of times. The artificial flavouring is a lot more affordable.” She laughs, but it sounds forced. I hate that and make a mental note to have Gabe research the best tea brands.
“Anyway, thorn would be private jets. I can’t get past how bad it is for the environment. Carbon footprint and all.”
“Agreed.” I nod.
Her expression turns teasing. “You might be the only billionaire who doesn’t have one.”
“Millionaire.” I correct with a shrug. “And first class can still be pretty damn luxurious.” I wink and she giggles, shaking her head with a faint blush.
God, she’s pretty. I wonder how far down that blush goes.
I don’t realize we’ve both leaned in closer to each other until I register the dilation of her pupils and hear her intake of breath.
I shift back. Damn. I almost kissed her.
Isla’s tongue darts out to lick her lower lip. My gaze zeros in on it.
Fuck.
Then she clears her throat. “My turn. Rose and thorn for food.”
I welcome the distraction and try to convince my dick to calm down.
Nothing is going to happen right now. “Easy. Rose is the miso-glazed black cod with truffle-infused quinoa and roasted vegetables from The Lookout,” I say, naming a high-end restaurant on the mainland.
“Thorn would be pickles. Those things are nasty.”
Isla’s amused smirk makes her eyes sparkle. “That’s one fancy-sounding dish. But I’m with you on the pickles. Totally gross.”
“How about for yourself?”
She makes a humming sound. “Let’s see, rose would be my dad’s homemade pizza.” Her face falls slightly. “Haven’t had it in years, but it was the best. He’d make his own dough and sauce from scratch. Some of my favourite memories are of him and Charlie making pizza together.”
There’s something more to what she’s saying, something that has made her sad. But it’s not my place to ask what, and before I can say anything, she continues, blowing out a breath and shaking her head slightly.
“And um, my thorn would probably be cooked spinach. That texture is terrible.”
I chuckle. “Don’t ever let my mother hear that, she’ll make it her mission in life to get you to like it.”
“Not a chance,” Isla says emphatically. She’s not quite back to smiling, but she seems to be mostly over whatever it was that shifted her mood.
“She’s a health nut,” I say, hoping to distract her.
“A lifelong vegetarian, which is how I was raised. Then, as an adult, I discovered the pure joy of a good steak with garlic mashed potatoes.” I smile and rub my stomach.
“So good. Anyway, she’s the kind of mom that refused to buy snacks from the grocery store and would make homemade granola bars and stuff.
I hated it as a child, watching my friends get all kinds of treats while I had trail mix and dried fruit, but obviously, the habits stuck with me, since even now I tend to avoid sweets. ”
Isla shakes her head, her face a picture of mock horror. “You mean, no fruit snacks? No Dunkaroos? No Oreos? What a terrible childhood. I think Charlie would run away from home if I took away his Froot Loops. Do you eat anything sugary now?”
I grin. “Can I tell you a secret?”
She nods, leaning forward.
“I’m addicted to Nutella.”
She bursts out laughing, and it lights up her entire face.
“Really. Chocolate and hazelnut. That’s your vice?”
“Yep. I keep a jar in a mini fridge in my office for when I get a craving.”
Just then, there’s a loud banging above our heads. “Hello in the elevator, this is Captain Danson with the Cedar Creek Fire Department. Is everyone alright?”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” I call back, staring at Isla as she stands and smooths her hands over her hair.
“Good to hear it. We’ll have you out in a minute, sir.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Then there’s a screeching sound and the elevator door is forced open, revealing the smiling face of a firefighter.
“You two ready to get outta there?”
I nod and gesture to Isla. “Yeah, get her out first.” Thankfully, Isla’s so focused on exiting the elevator that she doesn’t look back. I awkwardly climb to my feet, realizing my legs are shaky. I’m literally weak in the knees for this woman. Which is a bigger problem than just hiding my leg.
I’m also hiding how I feel.