In Her Own League

In Her Own League — 30 Reese

REESE

“All right, you two.” The photographer holds his camera up. “We need a photo. This will be frame-worthy. The previous team owner and the current one.”

I slip an arm around my grandfather as we pose together, getting our picture taken. Maybe it’ll be one that I’ll add to the walls during my own retirement party one day.

The photographer smiles at the screen on his camera. “Perfect.” Then he moves on to take more photos of more party guests, snapping his way through the venue.

I glance around the room again, taking it all in. “Denise did a hell of a

job.”

My grandfather looks around with me.

We have an event space at the stadium, and it was only right that his retirement party took place here. So many of his previous players, coaches, and staff have shown up to help him bid farewell to this part of his life, and the whole night just feels really special.

One man’s entire life’s work in one room.

There’s a dance floor in the center and a live band on a small makeshift stage. Multiple open bars are set up along the perimeter of the space, and the remaining walls are covered in photo collages, showcasing all the previous teams and memories my grandfather has made in this exact building.

“This is really something, isn’t it, Reese’s Pieces?” His voice goes thick.

“I can’t believe so many people showed up.”

His emotion is evident, but how could it not be? I gained my love of this game and this career choice from him. He was the embodiment of “choose a job you love, and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.”

I run a hand across his back. “You deserve for people to show up.”

I scan the room once again, recognizing so many faces from the past. And of course, plenty of ones from the present.

Our entire current roster is here, all suited up, because, like me, my grandfather enjoys the fancier parts of life.

The lighting is dim and moody. Cocktail tables are peppered throughout the space, as are plush couches for mingling. The food was divine, and it’s clear that no expense was spared.

It’s been special to spend tonight with my grandfather, but I’d be lying if I said that was the only reason I’ve been glued to his side. My self-control is utterly lacking as of late, so much so that I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t attach myself by a metaphorical leash.

My attention drifts to the dance floor, snagging on the source of my lack of restraint.

Emmett is wearing this sweet, almost wistful expression as he looks down at his daughter. It’s a tender moment, the two of them dancing together, and I’m unable to tear my eyes away from him. It’s been my issue all night. We’ve successfully avoided each other for hours, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t looked.

Miller says something to him that causes Emmett’s head to fall back in laughter and I can’t help but smile at his contagious joy. He looks good when he’s happy. He looks good, period.

“Arthur!” Scott calls out, drawing my attention away from the dance floor as he and the rest of the advisory board circle around my grandfather.

“It is so good to see you. You’re looking great.”

My grandfather beams at the five men. “Thank you all so much for coming. It means so much to me.”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Phil says.

“How have you all been? How’s it going with my Reese? Giving her some good advice, I hope.”

“Great advice.” Scott puts his hand on my grandfather’s shoulder in a chummy but slimy way. “Just waiting for her to take it.”

My attention drifts to Ed, and he meets my eye, telling me he’s thinking the same damn thing as me.

My grandfather looks around the group of men suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“He’s kidding.” Phil laughs. “We’re glad to be working with her. She’s really . . . doing her own thing. Making this team hers.”

Again, Ed and I share a look, silently calling out that bullshit.

“As she should.” My grandfather beams with pride because he doesn’t pick up on the nuance of their statements. He has no idea that four of the five members of his previous advisory board are furious with the direction I’m taking my team and think I should step down as Acting President of Baseball Operations.

I’m also not going to go run to him and tattle. I can handle myself just fine.

Ed gives me a squeeze on the arm as I excuse myself.

For the first time tonight, I’m alone without the safety net of company. I instantly feel the heat of Emmett’s attention, the same way I have most of the night. Glancing back in the direction of the dance floor, I find him and

Miller walking off as the song ends.

But as I assumed, he’s watching me.

He looks stunning tonight. Fitted black suit, white shirt unbuttoned near his throat, and a perfectly trimmed beard leading to a bit of salt around his temples. It’s not often I get to see him without his baseball hat, but it’s a lovely change to witness his face without the shadow of a brim covering it.

Then you add those black lines webbing over his hands, falling out past the cuffs of his suit and starkly contrasting the rest of his look tonight, and I’m just kind of done for.

His lips are a bit too full but perfect all the same, especially when they fight the smile he shouldn’t be sending me from across the room.

Emmett joins a group of his players, and I turn my attention back to the bar.

Grab a drink. Reattach myself to my grandfather. Those are the only two things I’m allowed to do.

“A glass of red, please,” I request from the bartender, and as he’s pouring it, my phone dings in my clutch.

Emmett’s name is on my screen with a message below it, but when I look for him over my shoulder, he’s mid-conversation with the guys on the team, standing around a cocktail table. No phone in sight.

Emmett: If I had it my way, you plus that dress would be the second-best thing I’d see today.

Honestly, screw the giddy, ridiculous smile on my lips. Something is truly wrong with me lately.

Me: What would be the first?

I press send and watch over my shoulder as he pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it under the table to read and reply while keeping it hidden

from everyone else.

Emmett: You minus that dress.

This forty-something-year-old man has more game than anyone I’ve dated in the past. Confident and unapologetic all at the same time. And it just really does something to me. The way he’s both hard and soft. Grumpy yet a huge fucking flirt.

Again, I look over my shoulder at him, and this time, find his eyes already on me. They take their time slowly tracking down my length, outlining my dress while his bottom lip absent-mindedly slips between his teeth.

“Aww,” Miller coos, sliding into the space next to me at the bar.

I quickly pull my attention away from her father and focus on the glass of freshly poured wine in my hand.

“Mutual eye-fucking across the room. So cute.” She thinks about what she just said before she audibly gags next to me. “I cannot believe I just said eye-fucking in regard to my dad.”

Chuckling, I take a sip from my glass. “Sorry to break it to you, Miller, but your dad is very eye-fuckable.”

“Oh God. Not you too.” The look on her face is utter disgust before she rethinks that statement as well. “Actually, I take that back. You’re just about the only person I’m okay with saying that.”

I gesture to the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A beer would be life-changing at the moment.”

“Yeah, I bet it would be. I’ll happily buy you a beer once you push that

baby out.”

“Fine. I’ll take a water. How boring.”

We’re shoulder to shoulder, saddled up to the crowded bar top, with our backs to the party. I’ve just asked for an ice water when Miller says, “My dad likes you,” quietly enough that only I can hear.

I swallow hard. “Yeah. I like him too. We work well together.”

“No. He likes you. In a way I’ve never seen before.”

I’m beyond tempted to get all schoolgirl on her with a, “you really think so?” but I restrain myself.

Emmett’s daughter was not the first person on my list I expected to discuss this with, and it would be so much safer for me if I could get back to my grandfather and spend the rest of the night trying to pretend that my field manager didn’t exist.

“We just . . .” I speak in a hushed tone, discreetly checking my

surroundings. “It can’t be like that.”

“Why not?”

How do I even answer?

Sure, as the owner of this franchise, there’s nothing that would explicitly keep me from having a relationship with someone in my organization. But it’s not about some metaphorical rulebook. It’s about the way it would look.

I’m his direct superior.

What would that do to my reputation? I’m still dealing with the mess that happened online this past week. I can already see the headlines now about me being a woman and sleeping with someone on my staff. Let alone just months after I took over the team. The situation would be entirely twisted to fit a narrative, and I have a responsibility to other women who are trying to break into this industry to not give us a bad name.

I’m his boss. He’s up for a new contract. Who knows how messy that could get?

“Because . . .” Again, I hesitate. “I want to protect him. And myself too.

He loves his job, I love my job, and he really loves you. He wants to stay in this city. He and I would just be . . . messy.”

“I think messy is worth it sometimes.” She mulls something over for a moment, taking a drink of her water. “I wouldn’t normally be this bold—”

I lift a brow in her direction.

“Okay.” She laughs. “I meant I wouldn’t be this bold about someone else’s relationship, but he’s always been my favorite person, so I’m just going to say my piece on the whole thing.” She turns to face me, so I give her my full attention too. “I know he’s been lonely. He may never admit it because he keeps himself busy, but I see it. I don’t remember what he was like with my mom, but he’s a completely different person than he was back then anyway. Raising a kid on your own that you didn’t plan for and putting everyone else ahead of yourself will do that to you. But he doesn’t look lonely when you’re around. As an only child, that kind of means everything to me, you know?”

The backs of my eyes burn in a way I’m wholly unaccustomed to. I don’t often cry, especially now. I’ve learned to overcompensate being a woman in a man’s field by trying to take the emotions out of most things.

But this little speech might just get me.

“And I hear you on the whole job thing,” she continues. “I don’t know what that would look like for his career and your reputation. But I used to base a lot of my decisions off what I thought was best for him too. I used to travel for work all the time, constantly be on the go, because I thought staying away was the best thing for him. I thought it gave him the space he needed to do his own thing and live his own life after giving it all up for me.

Then I realized that he just wanted me around.”

She offers me a small smile. “I’m pretty sure he just wants you around, Reese. And if there’s anyone who deserves to get everything they want, it’s

him.”

Well . . . shit.

I can’t imagine those words hitting harder than they just did, being delivered by the person Emmett loves most in the world.

I can’t tell her how scared I am to like her dad. Or how much I already do. If that’s something I were to ever admit, it’ll be to Emmett himself. But I also don’t think I can express to her just how much hearing her say that means to me.

But what I can say is, “He does deserve to get everything he wants.”

“Who deserves to get everything they want?”

It’s a deep, gravelly voice asking the question. One I’d recognize anywhere. One I haven’t heard all night.

My plan of grabbing a drink and returning to my grandfather is failing miserably.

Miller and I make eye contact, silently asking the other how we’re going to play this off.

“I do,” she says, covering for me. “Carrying this baby for nine months.

Do you know how many restrictions there are during pregnancy? And of course you get to drink a beer.” She gestures to the glass in Emmett’s hand.

“I’m going to go give Kai some shit for this. This is all his fault anyway.”

Miller takes off in a faux huff and her dad steals her spot next to me at the bar, eyes locked on her back in confusion.

“What was that all about?”

“Oh, you know Miller.”

Miller, who loves her dad enough to practically beg me to open my eyes and see him.

But seeing him is not the problem. Quite the opposite, in fact. Part of me wishes I could go back to the days when I was unaware of just how big his heart is. It made it a whole lot easier to keep from falling for him.

“You look . . .” His eyes trail down my body. “Fitting for you to wear black tonight. My heart practically stopped when you walked in, and here you are, already dressed for my funeral.”

There’s that unapologetic confidence again.

“You’re far too old to be joking about heart issues, Emmett.”

He brings his beer to his smiling lips. “I truly wish I were kidding.”

“Reese?” someone calls out. “No way. Is that really you?”

It takes me a moment to process who is standing in front of me, speaking as if they know me. Graying hair and wrinkled skin from too much time in the sun. I couldn’t have been more than ten years old the last time I saw him.

“Mick?” I study him for a second to make sure I’m correct before I go ahead and hug a complete stranger. When he doesn’t correct me, I set my wine down on the bar and open my arms. “Oh my God! It’s been so long.”

He gives me a tight squeeze. “Look at you, girl! You were just a kid the last time I saw you. I remember you used to always hang out in the dugout during practices. Didn’t we have one of your birthday parties in this exact room? Me and all the guys went. And what was it that we all called you?

Reese’s Pieces! That’s right.”

I exhale a small laugh. “It’s just Reese now.” Shifting, I involve Emmett into the conversation. “Emmett, this is Mick. He played second base for the Warriors for over a decade. He was a part of the team when I first started coming around with my grandfather and fell in love with the game. Mick,

this is Emmett. Our field manager.”

The two men shake hands.

“So great to meet you,” Emmett says kindly.

“Wow.” Mick stands with his hands on his hips, shaking his head at me in disbelief. “So, you’re running the team now, huh?”

Oh.

A flush of embarrassment rushes my cheeks. He knew me as just a little girl obsessed with being a part of this team. He remembers me always

hanging around and wanting to be included. If I were him, I’d also assume my grandfather passed the franchise on as a way to appease me.

“She is,” Emmett answers for me when I don’t respond quick enough.

“And she’s doing a hell of a job.”

“Of course she is.” Mick smiles down at me. “You were always sharp. I remember that. Knew the game better than some of the grown men who were playing it. And you loved this place more than anyone. You were just a part of the family. It wouldn’t make sense for anyone other than you to be running the team.”

I can sense Emmett’s proud gaze boring into the side of my face, but I don’t have it in me to turn and indulge in it. I feel a bit splayed out being described by someone who was around when I had the luxury of being naïve about this business. But I won’t lie, after a week of getting hell from the press, the words from an old player I adored back in the day mean more than he probably realizes.

“I need to go say hi to Arthur,” Mick says. “Congratulate him on his retirement. Emmett, it was great to meet you. And, Reese, it’s nice to see this team in the hands of someone who loves it so much.”

We say our goodbyes and Mick heads off, leaving Emmett and me alone.

“So,” he begins in a teasing tone. “Remember that time you told me that

baseball is just a business?”

“Shut up.”

I smack him in the arm with the back of my hand, but he grabs my wrist before I can pull away. He’s close. Too close. Chest to chest with his long fingers wrapped around me, holding me softly.

“Dance with me.”

It’s a gentle plea and does something foreign and unpermitted to my

chest.

“Emmett—”

“Dance with me.”

“You can’t just repeat what you said and expect me to change my response.”

He does his best to bite back his smile.

I look around the room again.

It’s packed with too many people who know exactly who we both are.

Sure, everyone is occupied with doing their own thing, but still, someone would be bound to grow suspicious of a slow dance between the two of us.

“There are too many eyes,” I tell him.

“At this point, I’ve danced with my daughter, your grandmother, and Denise. I think people would find it more strange if I didn’t dance with you.

We don’t want anyone thinking the owner and field manager aren’t getting

along again, do we?”

“I think that might be a safer option.”

“Dance with me, Reese.”

His brown eyes are soft, his dark brows pinched together as he looks down at me. And when the song shifts and the live band begins to play the next one, I don’t have it in me to turn him down again.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“See.” A proud smile hitches on his lips. “Different response.”

“You’re awfully annoying when you get what you want.”

He pushes my wineglass off to the side along with his half-finished beer, then finds the small of my back to usher me out onto the dance floor.

We pass too many familiar faces. The dance floor is too crowded.

Though, I suppose that might work to our advantage, hiding among the sea of bodies.

We catch the attention of many of our current players, but still Emmett doesn’t hesitate, leading me right to the center of the floor. Like he has no problem if those close to us realize there’s something going on here.

His recklessness has my nerves frayed. I should’ve never left my grandfather’s side.

Kai and Isaiah are huddled together on the perimeter of the dance floor, watching us with ridiculously giddy grins on their faces. But when they realize I’ve caught them looking, they quickly turn away and pretend as if they’ve been occupied with something else this entire time.

“The Rhodes boys have no chill.”

Emmett chuckles. “Tell me about it.”

Turning to face me, he slides one of my arms over his neck, holding the other out to the side. Then he places his palm at a respectable height at my mid-back, and for that split second, I let myself believe others will find this

perfectly professional.

This could be okay.

I smooth my hand over his shoulder, keeping my voice low. “You look

handsome tonight.”

He grins lazily. “Thank you.”

“And you and Miller looked sweet together on the dance floor.”

“Crazy to think that the next time I’ll be dancing with her will be at her wedding.”

The mental image has me smiling, but it drops the same time Emmett’s hand sinks an inch lower on my back.

“So, what were you two speaking about earlier?”

It’d be a lot easier to lie to him. To make something up so we don’t get into that kind of conversation here—while on the dance floor. In front of the entire Warriors organization, both past and present.

But he’s always honest with me, so I don’t how I couldn’t be the same.

“She thinks you want me around.”

I’m hesitant to look up and meet his eye, but when I do, I find that he has

no issue watching me in the same way.

“I do want you around, Reese.”

“No, I mean—”

“I know exactly what you mean. And my answer is still the same. I want you around. All the time, really. I just want you, but I think you already know that.”

Oxygen has a tough time finding my lungs. There’s no shyness to his statement. No hesitation. He’s a man who knows what he wants and apparently, he wants me.

I discreetly check our surroundings. “Em, not here.”

“Fine, but where I say it won’t change my answer. I want you, Reese.”

My eyes bounce between his. “Why?”

The question is out before I think better of it. Before I have time to remind myself to hide that insecurity. Before I can remember where we are.

Emmett’s brows pinch together. “Is that a real question?”

Unfortunately, yes. It is. I didn’t know there could be a why. I once thought you just loved someone for who they are until I learned that some people do have another reason why. An ulterior motive.

His palm on my back sinks another inch lower, and at the same time, he pulls me closer to him. Hard stomach to my soft. His hold on me is firm and unrelenting. Comforting in a way it shouldn’t be with so many eyes nearby.

All while continuing to sway us to the soft melody.

“You should never have to ask that question, but I understand why you are.”

A small wave of relief washes over me that I don’t have to explain myself. It’s not talked about enough. How settling it is to be understood without needing to make someone understand.

The realization that Emmett has always understood me has me pliable when he takes my hand that’s held out to the side and hooks it to meet my other around his neck.

His palm strokes against the bare skin of my arm until it also drops to my lower back.

“I don’t know if my why is a tangible thing I can pinpoint, Reese. I don’t know that I have a good answer for you to overanalyze. But I know some of the reasons why I don’t want you.”

Craning my neck, I look up at him, desperate to hear the next words out of his mouth. His mouth that’s too close to be considered professional, but all I can seem to care about is the next thing that’s going to come out of it.

“I don’t want you for what you can offer me,” he says. “I don’t want you for job security. In fact, I think we both know that me wanting you will provide me the opposite of that. I don’t want you because you suddenly brought me back to life or anything like that. I’ve had purpose. I love my life. I love my job. And I love my family. I don’t want you for anything that you can give me, other than the hope I’ve been unable to ignore since you walked into this building.”

My heart races in an unhealthy way, and I try to calm it by focusing on the small circles he’s drawing with his thumb against my back.

“For someone who has gone twenty years assuming that I would spend the rest of my life only being a dad and only being a coach, there’s a nagging hope I feel when you’re around that I could also be . . .”

Someone’s partner. Someone’s equal.

He doesn’t finish that sentence, because he doesn’t need to. I already know.

There was so much of me that longed to hear exactly that, but then there’s also another part of me that prayed he’d never say it out loud. That we’d never have to confront what’s happening between us.

And here of all places. Locked in the center of people who can never know.

It’s scary. Everything about him is scary. The way his mere presence has me questioning everything I once stood firm in is terrifying.

His confession brings us to a boiling point and we both know it. And I just wish that this song would end so I could get off this dance floor to keep from confronting what’s right in front of us.

Emmett drops his head, lips ghosting the shell of my ear. “I know I promised you that I’d protect you and your reputation and the legacy you want to leave. And I’m fully aware that I’m breaking that promise by wanting you. And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it, Reese. For someone who usually has all the answers, I have no idea how to stop wanting you.”

“Emmett.” There’s a desperate plea in the way I say his name. “Please not here.”

When I turn my head to look at him, I find this almost untamed need in his eye and it terrifies me for the next thing he’s going to say.

“I don’t think you understand me. It doesn’t matter where I say it. I wasn’t lying that day in the elevator when I told you to fire me. That’s where I’m at. I’m not willing to risk your reputation, but I am willing to risk my own job to figure out what this might be. So fucking fire me already.”

“No.” I pull away from him in a somewhat dramatic fashion, but thankfully the song ends and plenty of people are separating on the dance floor that no one seems to notice. “Absolutely not.”

“Reese—”

He reaches out for me, but I take a step back to create distance, then look around to remind him where we are right now.

He’s lost his fucking mind if he thinks I’m going to let him lose his job over me. After everything he’s done to get back to this place in his life.

After everything he sacrificed.

“Absolutely not.” I keep my voice sharp but hushed. “We aren’t . . . that’s not an option.”

Can he hear how scared I am? Can he see it on my face?

“Don’t bring that up ever again. I’m . . .”

Not worth it.

And that’s not a lack of self-esteem speaking for me. I know my worth.

That’s the fear of him losing everything he’s ever wanted to gamble on me.

In that respect, I refuse to let him believe I’m worth that risk.

“I’m . . .” I try again. “I’m not going to have this conversation again.”