In Her Own League — 17 Reese

17

REESE

“Thank you so much for dinner,” I say, walking next to Michael as we head

for the front door.

“Of course. I had a nice time.”

“I did too.”

“The food was great.”

“So good.”

I don’t miss the way we’re both trying to get to the exit without either of us bringing up the idea of a second date. I think it was fairly obvious early on into dinner that we each got the friend vibe from the other.

“So, uh . . .” Michael holds the front door of the restaurant open for me.

“I’ll probably see you around the field at some point. My dad has been wanting us to go to a game together.”

“That sounds great. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

He’s got this polite smile as he looks down at me, neither of us knowing how to end this as we awkwardly stand on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant. But then his attention flicks to the street.

“Is that . . .”

I follow his line of sight.

No fucking way.

I didn’t entirely believe Emmett when he texted to tell me he’d be the one taking me home. I kind of thought it was simply said to stake his claim without doing anything to back it up.

But here he is, leaning against the hood of his truck, arms crossed over his chest, exuding all the confidence in the world. Waiting to pick me up from the date I was on with someone else.

I can say with certainty that there’s nothing between me and Michael.

Because after two hours of conversation, I didn’t once feel an ounce of the need I have just from making eye contact across the sidewalk with Emmett.

Something is seriously wrong with me because at this point, even him finding street parking on a Saturday night is attractive to me. Then you add the black jeans, gray henley rolled to his elbows, and a ball cap, and I’m just kind of done for.

Which is fucking fabulous, you know. The whole point of going out with someone after years of actively being single was to prove to myself that I could replicate my attraction to Emmett.

Spoiler alert: I can’t.

Emmett pushes off his truck, meeting us on the sidewalk. “Sorry to

interrupt.”

No, he’s not.

He watches only me but speaks to Michael as he does. “A work emergency came up and I need to speak to my boss.” For a brief moment, his eyes pan to my date. “In private.”

“Totally get it.” Michael holds his hands up before looking my way.

“You’re good, then?”

“I’m good.” I offer him a polite smile. “Have a nice night.”

“You too.” Smiling, he nods to Emmett before he takes off in the opposite direction that I’ll be headed.

I watch his retreating back, waiting until he’s a far enough distance away before I spin back on my field manager. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t react to my tone. “I told you. I’m taking you home. Also, what was that? A little fight from the guy would’ve been nice. Another man just stole his date.”

“You didn’t steal anyone.” I roll my eyes because that seems a whole lot safer than jumping him in public. Which is exactly what I want to do. “And I’m good on the ride,” I say, taking a couple of steps in the direction of my condo. “I live within walking distance.”

“Reese.” Emmett takes a couple of quick steps with those long legs to meet up with me, standing in my path. “You’ve avoided me for too long, and I need to talk to you. Let me take you home.”

I look back at his truck. “I’d rather walk.”

His set jaw tics, before he runs a palm over his beard in frustration.

“Okay,” he relents on a long exhale, moving out of my path. “Fine.”

I take a couple of steps, the stilettos of my heels clicking against the cement. But he’s not walking with me, so I turn back to find him stuck a few paces back.

“Well, are you going to walk me home or not?”

“Oh.” He perks up, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

I try to bite back my grin as he jogs to catch up to me, slowing to a walk when he meets my side.

“Hi, by the way,” he says softly. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Well, fuck me.

“Thank you.”

“Are you cold?”

I should be cold. I’m wearing only a silk cocktail dress that lands at my knees and has a slit up my thigh, but I’m not. It’s a warmer night in Chicago, not to mention the blush taking over my entire body just from being around this man again.

Part of me is tempted to tell him that I am cold just to see if he’d offer me his henley and walk the rest of the way to my apartment shirtless.

Professional boundaries, Reese.

“I’m good. I’m actually kind of warm. So warm. I don’t need more clothes. I could take this dress off because that’s how warm I am right

now.”

Stop. Talking.

My wide eyes shoot to his, finding him watching me with that stupid freaking smirk on his lips.

“Are you thinking of me naked right now?”

He offers me a single, slow nod. “Yes, I am.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Swallowing hard, I quicken my pace, needing to get home before I do something rash. But Emmett’s long legs hardly have to make an effort to keep up with my new pace.

It’s as if abstaining from his presence over the last week has only made me want him more. But this is not one of those romantic cases of distance making the heart grow fonder. This distance has only made me weaker.

“What’s the work emergency?” I ask, taking a sharp left onto my street.

And it’s then I realize I’ve never taken a man to my condo. I’ve never taken anyone to my condo. Not that he’s coming into my condo, but it’s become such a sanctuary for me after my divorce and taking over this new position that I’ve never taken anyone into my space, let alone allowed someone to know where I live.

This is fine. We’ll separate at the front door. Or maybe the lobby. Or maybe my elevator.

“I hope this emergency you’re referring to is an emergency apology,” I say, chin held high, quick tempo to my feet. “My inbox has been flooded with press requests, wanting the inside scoop about what happened with you and Harrison today.”

Emmett chuckles. “Yeah, I’m not apologizing for that.”

Never thought he actually would.

“And why is that?” I ask.

“Because I’m not sorry.”

Looking up, there’s not an ounce of apology on his features.

And fuck me, I like that too. I like that he’s owning it. I like that part of what happened during the game today happened because he was protecting me.

“The way I see it,” he says. “Now you can blame it on me. When you trade Harrison, and the media wants to give you shit for it, you can say it’s my fault. It’s right there on camera for everyone to see that he and the field manager weren’t getting along.”

I stop in my tracks and eventually Emmett realizes I’ve stopped walking when he stops too, turning back to face me.

“Are you saying you did that for me?”

He shrugs. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. But . . .”

I cock my head to the side. “Emmett.”

He takes slow steps to meet me on the sidewalk before he lifts a hand and gently pushes a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. He leaves it there, cradling my cheek.

“It’s not going to be pretty, Reese. The press is going to put you through the wringer. The fans too. But if I can take some of the heat off you, I will.”

He’s really got to stop. The professional walls between us are becoming far too fragile.

“Thank you,” I exhale and watch the way his eyes fall to my lips as I do.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

His soft brown eyes search mine, looking for the answer, and the desperation in his inquiry breaks my heart a bit.

But I’ve been avoiding him for his own good. An excellent reminder I need right about now.

I gently circle his forearm with my hand, pulling his palm away from my face. “I’m almost home. What is it you needed to speak to me about tonight?”

He exhales a sigh, understanding my wish to change the tone of things when the two of us fall into step again.

“Nate called me.”

Oh.

“And I needed to say thank you.”

I quickly nod, wanting this conversation to be over as soon as possible.

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a job lined up for him?”

Maybe because I shouldn’t have cared that much. I didn’t know the guy, yet I felt terrible for having to let him go. I didn’t have it in me to make a cutthroat business decision without giving him a backup option, though a stronger businesswoman probably would’ve been able to stomach it.

My voice is small. “I don’t know.”

“You let me call you heartless, Reese. You hardly batted an eye all while

knowing you had him taken care of.”

“It’s fine, Emmett.”

“No, it’s not.” He stops again, grabbing my arm to stop me as well. “I never should have spoken to you that way.”

“You were upset.”

“Yeah, and that’s not an excuse. I’m sorry for what I said. Clearly, I didn’t know you yet. I didn’t understand how you operated. I had no idea you’d make sure he got a job close to family. I had no idea you’d make sure my players’ families were at their important games or that you’d be so invested in our developmental teams. I didn’t know you then and I’m sorry for making the wrong assumption.”

As much as I liked that he didn’t apologize for his interaction with Harrison, this apology feels good. It’s unnecessary because I was making assumptions about him then too. But it’s nice to know he sees me even when that’s not the side of me I’m trying to put on display for the rest of the league to witness.

“Thank you for saying that,” I whisper. “I recently learned I may have made some wrong assumptions about you too, so I guess we’re even.”

“Yeah?” His eyes tick to my lips. “Like what?”

“Like the fact that you covered the salary for Max’s nanny, even before that nanny was your daughter.”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on him. “Please don’t say anything to anyone. I don’t want Kai or Miller to feel—”

“I would never say anything. But you do know that you’re already underpaid for your position, right? Let alone secretly giving part of that

salary to someone else.”

He shakes me off. “I make plenty.”

A throat clears near us, and I turn to find my doorman standing outside of my building. Because that’s where we’ve been stopped this whole time we’ve been whispering, apologizing, and staring at each other’s mouths.

Right in front of my building.

“Hey there, Keith.” I hold up a single hand in a wave. “Didn’t know you

were out here.”

“Evening, Ms. Remington.”

I throw a thumb in that direction. “So, this is me,” I tell Emmett.

“I see that.” A ghost of a smile lifts on his lips. “Thanks for letting me walk you home.”

I should leave it at that. He’s giving me an out. But after a week of avoiding him, I find myself desperate for just a few more moments.

“I’m not home yet.” I slowly start toward the entrance, nodding for him to join. “I’ve got to make it to the top floor.”

He shakes his head, following me. “Of course you’re on the top floor.”

There’s no hint of judgment in the way he says it. It’s stated in a way that he already knew I bought the condo on the penthouse level because he knows I like nice things. He’s not giving me a hard time for having preferences. He’s simply making it known that he’s aware of them.

We say our thank-yous to Keith as he opens the main entry door for both of us and when we hit the lobby, Emmett veers for the primary elevator bank.

I slip my hand into his to stop him. “This way,” I say, nodding toward my private elevator on the opposite side of the main room.

“You have your own elevator.”

“I do.”

“As you should.”

Letting go of his hand, I swipe my keycard over the sensor, opening the elevator doors. Once inside, I tap it again, this time adding my thumbprint

before pushing the button for my floor.

I’m able to get to any floor from this elevator, but seeing as this opens right into my condo, no one else can get onto mine.

The doors close, and out of the corner of my eye I watch as Emmett takes in his surroundings, his attention snagging on the emerald marble encasing us. On the intricate design pieced together on the floor. On the gold handrails and crystal buttons for each floor.

He doesn’t make some judgmental statement about excess, nor does any part of him seem intimidated. Two reasons I’ve never wanted anyone to see where I live now. Because I bought the place that I wanted post-divorce, and the last thing I want is to hear anything negative said about my sacred

space.

“This place suits you, Reese.”

Standing shoulder to shoulder, eyes locked ahead on the door, Emmett brushes his pinky against mine.

It’s intentional. It’s the simplest of touches yet feels far too intimate for what it is.

The tension feels far too thick in this little box. The small amount of newfound privacy allows for the electric charge between us to simmer and heat to an unhealthy level.

As we go up through the floors, I can sense my pulse quicken, can feel the beat in my chest grow to a thundering pound when Emmett not only brushes his pinky against mine again, but wraps it fully around, holding on

to that small part of me.

“Emmett—”

“How was your date?”

Looking up, I meet his eye. “You sound jealous.”

“I am.”

I take a step back for my own sanity, but it doesn’t last long before he follows me with a step of his own.

“I’m jealous that this little red dress you’re wearing tonight was for him and not for me.”

He takes another step toward me, and I take another step back. Like some sort of practice dance that gets rudely interrupted when my shoulders hit the cold marble wall.

A breath hitches in my throat. “I didn’t go on a date to make you jealous.”

“Well, you made me jealous anyway.”

Emmett’s big body crowds me in the corner of the elevator, tattooed hands meeting the wall on either side of my head. And God, he looks downright feral as he looms over me like this. Like a predator who has finally cornered their prey.

“So why did you go?” His voice is pure gravel.

“I don’t know.”

He shakes his head in disapproval, bending his neck so his lips are just a whisper above my own. “Why’d you go, Reese?”

His attention dips to my mouth. Maybe waiting for my answer. Maybe waiting for me to lean up and fill the space between us. Maybe waiting for me to give him permission. I’m not entirely sure.

“Tell me.”

I swallow hard, not breaking eye contact. “Because I was trying to forget about you.”

There’s the quickest flash of relief on his face, and I can practically feel the race of his heart pick up from here, even with the couple of inches of space still between us.

His brows furrow, pleading eyes locked on mine. “Did it work?”

“Not even a little bit.”

He closes his eyes, standing to his full height and gathering himself. He takes a moment, before he turns his hat around, brim to the back.

“Good,” he exhales, craning over me again, the skin of his lips brushing my own when his mouth moves to whisper, “Tell me I can kiss you.”

It’s part dare, part command.

And yet still a fully frantic plea because we both know if one of us is going to give permission to cross the line, it’s going to have to be me.

I slightly shake my head against his. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Reese.”

“Emmett, you work for me.”

He hesitates for a moment, but there’s no mistaking the conviction or

desperation in his next words.

“Fire me.”