by Jody Holford
“I’m not my brother,” she said quietly. “I wish I’d known Walter. Known he wanted to know me.” She couldn’t change the past, and that was an ache that wouldn’t fade anytime soon.
“No.” Josiah smiled. “You’re not. For one thing, if I’m reading you right, you own a baseball team, and he doesn’t.”
She shouldn’t laugh, and she was able to stop herself, but still, her lips tipped up in a smile.
Talk about a silver lining. “You’re damn right I do.”
Chapter Eight
The ball of knots in Liam’s stomach wouldn’t untangle. Isla had been gone for hours, and every minute that passed made him more certain that things would unravel between them before they had a chance to see where they could go.
His phone continued to blow up with texts, tweets, emails, and phone calls. He’d stopped answering after Bruce phoned, confirming what everyone already knew. When Liam asked about who would be taking over the team, the GM’s tone turned hard. He didn’t know and didn’t want to speculate. Liam felt like there was more left unsaid in that conversation than said.
He’d spoken to a few teammates, but everyone was mourning the loss, waiting on news that they expected to take some time. For him, however, there was more at work. The coincidences he’d pushed aside and blocked out were pummelling hard with every minute Isla was gone.
He heard his front door open and turned to see his cousin and Talia walk in.
“What’s with the radio silence?” Talia asked, slipping off her coat and draping it over a chair.
“Dude. Pennington died?” Davis asked, though obviously he knew the answer.
Liam had the news on mute. There had to be a press conference coming. Bruce said there’d be an email sent to the players soon. With so many out of town, it was easier than calling everyone. Bruce wasn’t in charge, and Liam couldn’t help but wonder if he really didn’t know who was stepping in. Or why it was happening so quickly. It had to be Cordelia. Right?
Where the hell was Isla? And since when did his thoughts split between a woman he hardly knew and his career? He ran his hands through his hair, stood still like that, staring at TSN.
“You okay?” Talia asked, patting his stomach on the way by.
“Yeah.” But no, he wasn’t.
“I’ll grab a few beers. Have you eaten?”
“I’m fine.”
“So, no.”
She walked off, and he knew she’d be back with something to eat along with the beer.
“What happened with the chick today?” Davis asked, flopping down on the couch.
“She’s not a chick. She’s a grown woman,” Liam snapped, dropping his hands and facing his cousin.
“Oh. My, my. Someone is touchy. I apologize. What happened with the woman today?”
Liam shook his head. “She had to go. She’s supposed to come back.”
“Uh-oh. Did love-’em-and-leave-’em-Liam get left?”
Talia came back in with an armload of chips and beer. “Say that ten times fast.”
Davis laughed, but it took them only a minute to realize Liam wasn’t in the mood. There was nothing funny about what he felt roiling inside him. Too much was up in the air. He’d worked damn hard to get traded to Nashville, taken a pay cut, and agreed to things he normally wouldn’t, just to end his career in his hometown. He put up with the expectations that went along with being a “hometown hero” and kept his behavior above reproach. Because that let him be in control. Now, who knew what would happen with the owner gone and no replacement announced?
“It has to be the wife. Right? You think she knows anything about baseball?” Liam asked them.
The beers and the chips were opened, Talia and Davis helping themselves, comfortable in Liam’s home.
“You mean that she’ll take over the Slammers? I don’t know. What usually happens in this situation? She must know something about baseball. She lived with him, right?”
Liam shrugged. “This doesn’t happen a lot, and I have no idea what his marriage was like. I’ve never met her. Hell, I’ve barely met the management team. When I signed the deal, it was me, Pennington, the GM, and the manager.” That’s what happened when you signed in the off-season.
“Has anyone contacted you?” Davis asked around a mouthful of chips.
Liam sank onto the couch, laying his head back against the cushions. “The GM to confirm. Teammates and media outlets looking for a statement.” His email chimed again, and he picked up his phone, glanced at it, and his chest seized like a pulled muscle.
“Email announcement,” Liam said, swiping his finger across the screen and deciding to read it out loud so he didn’t have to fill his family in when he was done.
“Though you may have already heard this news, it is with great sadness that we confirm the death of Walter Pennington, the beloved owner and founder of the Nashville Slammers.” The email started listing Walter’s attributes and contributions to the sport, but Liam skimmed that to find what he needed to know, his insides curling into a tighter ball. “Please read the statement below introducing our new team owner. She will be giving a press conference at ten p.m. tonight.”
“She?” Davis sat up, a huge grin eating up his face. “No way!”
Talia smacked him across the arm. “Why not?” She looked at Liam. “The wife, right?”
Liam’s breath faltered. “Inheriting my grandfather’s baseball team is bittersweet. I’m sorry that I never had a chance to know him, but I’m grateful for the opportunity he has given me to become an integral part of the Nashville Slammers. It is my hope that I can meet my team, both the players and staff, before spring training starts, but for the foreseeable future, I’ll be taking things one day at a time. I am a Colorado native—” He stared at his phone, feeling like he’d been hit by a freaking hurricane. No. NO.
Talia tapped him on the leg. “Keep going.”
His voice came out gruff with emotion he’d been checking all day. “But effective immediately, I will be relocating to Nashville. I intend to be part of making my grandfather’s vision for this team come true. I know there are a lot of questions. At this time, I’m asking you to respect my privacy and that of my grandfather’s family while we continue to mourn, address immediate details that need to be seen to, and while I, personally, get my feet under me. Thank you, in advance, for your kindness and consideration. Sincerely, Isla Bennett.”
Talia, who’d been taking a long swallow of her beer, tilted it down, removing it from her lips. Her mouth stayed in an O formation. Liam’s gaze clashed with hers as his heart spasmed so hard he brought his palm up to massage the spot.
“Isla? That’s the name of the girl last night who lost her grandfather,” Talia said.
Liam nodded, his throat too thick to talk. Davis looked back and forth between them. “What’s that mean?”
“It means Cruz is hooking up with his boss,” Talia all but shouted in an amused voice.
The thought turned his stomach. That’s exactly how it would look to everyone, and though he tried not to let the opinions of others shape him in any way, he couldn’t stand the thought of rumors cheapening what he felt. Or how hard he’d worked to be where he was.
Liam stood, tossing his phone on the coffee table, and resumed pacing.
“You hooked up with her? Man. I should have been a ballplayer. Chicks are all over you,” Davis said, kicking back in his seat.
Liam whirled, pointed at him. “She isn’t a chick and I didn’t hook up with her. Jesus. She must be freaking out right now.” He could imagine her, that quiet, shy smile getting pummelled in a room full of suits. And he didn’t even have her goddamn number. Why the hell had he let her go without getting her number?
“It’s five to ten,” Talia said, picking up the remote.
Though he’d just read the statement, they sat and watched as the press conference started. Bruce Grey, the General Manager, and Caden Lovell, the manager, stepped up to the podium in the team’s conference room. Then
the camera swung to Isla, and Liam lost his breath.
Jesus, she was gorgeous.
Everything about her oozed confidence. He figured she’d been going crazy with the knowledge that yesterday she didn’t have a grandfather and today she’d inherited his major league team. But she stood there, her eyes blazing like fire. Different from the one that had lit up when he kissed her. A small smile curved his lips.
He’d sensed another side to the soft, vulnerable woman who’d come into his bar last night. Steel under silk. She looked ready to take on the world, and hell if he didn’t feel another wave—tsunami—of attraction wash over him. She. Is. Your. Boss.
Right. No more attraction. But…damn.
A man he didn’t recognize walked beside her, guided her with a hand on her arm. Liam’s jaw clenched; he felt nervous on her behalf. This was a big deal. She hadn’t known who he was—that didn’t mean she knew nothing about baseball, but it wasn’t a great sign. Was she ready for this?
Bruce said a couple of words, then Caden. Finally, Isla stepped up to the microphone. Liam’s heart rate spiked. He stood in front of the television and turned it up just to hear her voice.
She blinked several times and then leaned forward. “Hi.” The crowd laughed and a few of them shouted “hi” back. Bruce grimaced visibly, and Caden dropped his head. The guy who’d walked Isla up to the podium didn’t leave her side. He put a hand on her shoulder and whispered something in her ear.
“My name is Isla Bennett. Inheriting my grandfather’s baseball team…”
He muted the rest of the conference and must have looked like he felt because Talia and Davis made excuses about leaving. When they did, he cleaned up their food and bottles and tried to decide if he should work out in his home gym, head to Salvation, or do some digging and see if there was a way to get a hold of Isla.
He couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet she was and how her own family had treated her like garbage. How she’d looked upon waking and how he’d wanted more time with her because she was the kind of special he’d never had in his life.
He’d seen the weight of her family’s behavior resting on her shoulders, and he’d wanted to shield her from it. Now she had a whole other storm to face, and he had no idea if she knew what she was in for. Or if he could even stand beside her as a friend, never mind as anything else.
He was heading to work out when his phone rang. He swallowed the disappointment of seeing it was Talia.
“What?”
“I’ll let the snappy greeting go this time, but careful or next time I’ll let you suffer,” she said, her tone amused.
He stopped outside his workout room. “What do you need, Tal?”
“Just wanted to pass on a message from James.”
What the hell message would the bartender at Salvation have for him? “What’s that?” His patience was thinning.
“Some girl called and wanted to leave her number, hoping you’d call her when James wouldn’t give out your cell.”
Leaning forward, Liam let his forehead thunk against the wall. “You’re calling me to tell me about some groupie?” This had happened before. She never bothered him with it.
“Hmm. Figured I’d pass it on in case. You seemed like you could use a mood changer. Girl’s name is Isla Bennett.”
Liam’s head snapped up. “Seriously?”
“I sure could use a spa day, rich big brother.”
Liam laughed. He was older by seven minutes. “I’ll buy you the whole goddamn spa. Give me the number.”
Logic and reason—usually two of his best assets—pushed hard to remind him this woman was now his boss, but for the first time in his life, Liam led with his heart instead of his head.
Chapter Nine
Isla paced the conference room, grateful for the moment alone. Her heartbeat hadn’t settled down from being in front of the camera. She’d held it together because she’d trained herself to school her features, but now her body trembled.
She had a grandfather. He’d died. He left her a freaking baseball team. Her father hadn’t even let her take on her own accounts until three years into her position.
As odd as it seemed, she wished Liam were there with her, because she knew, she just knew, he’d make her feel calmer. Or he’d make her laugh. Or smile. She’d have been able to connect her gaze to his, and it would have made breathing easier.
Dangerous thinking when she just had an avalanche of responsibility dropped in her lap. She might not have time for anything else. Still, she’d snuck away under the guise of using the bathroom and called the bar, asking that someone pass her info on to Liam.
Josiah came back into the room and smiled at her in a way she’d always wished her father would. Isla clutched her phone in her hand.
“You did great,” he said. “You’re going to have a lot coming at you for the next while. If there’s any silver lining in all of this, it’s that it’s the off-season. Once the immediate craze of wanting to know who you are has shifted, you’ll be able to get your feet under you, and you won’t be alone.”
That did not seem possible. Not at the moment, anyway. “Thank you for your help.”
He nodded, leaned against one of the tables that created a huge rectangle in a massive room with wall-to-wall windows. The night sky made the lights of Nashville seem brighter.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he held her gaze. “Jennifer is going to give you some contacts. She’ll help you find a place to stay, connect you with an assistant who can work on getting whatever you need to feel settled. It’d be best if you didn’t head back to Colorado right now, but obviously you might need to. I can have that arranged so you don’t have to worry about small details.”
God. She hadn’t even thought of all of that. “I can contact my own assistant and get a few things taken care of.” Her thoughts jumped around. She had to call Addie as soon as possible.
“Okay. That’s good, then. I’m sure you’re tired, and tomorrow is going to be a long day. Your father and brother have landed. Cordelia is blowing up my phone and leaving messages about them contacting her. There’s going to be backlash, but you seem like you can handle it. There will be a lot of people telling you different things. My Jennifer is closer to your age, one of the top attorneys in Nashville, and has an idea of what it’s like to be a high-profile person thanks to the nature of my clients. You need anything, she’s your girl. At least until you have your own people around you.”
It was already so much, and pressure built in Isla’s chest. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“I’ve got a driver who will take you to one of the apartments I own in East Nashville. It’s fully furnished and sitting vacant because I’m between tenants. You can stay there until you catch your breath.”
Isla walked closer and stopped in front of him, her jaw tight with the effort not to dissolve into a puddle of tears. “You’ve done so much. Thank you.”
He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Your grandfather was one of my best friends. Some day soon, when all of this dies down a little, we’ll have a drink and I’ll tell you some stories.”
It hurt her heart how much she wanted that. How she’d been denied her own stories. “I’d like that.”
“Okay. My driver is downstairs. I’ll walk you out. They’re waiting in the back because most of the media is hanging around the front.”
She was in the car, her purse in her lap, her phone clutched to her chest, when it rang. The driver glanced back but continued navigating the streets of Nashville.
“Liam?” Even saying his name made her feel like she wasn’t swimming around over her head. It anchored her back to the moment.
“Isla. Are you okay?”
And just like that, tears filled her eyes. He was so thoughtful. “I am. Liam, there’s so much I need to tell you.”
“I saw the press conference, sweetheart. We need to talk, and I have your things.”
Relief loosened the pressure in her chest. She didn’t have to
explain if he’d seen the news. “I had no idea this was going to happen. I’m still in shock. My granddad’s lawyer has a place in East Nashville. Is there any chance you can meet me there?” She hated the pleading tone of her voice.
“You don’t even have to ask. Text me the address, I’ll leave now.”
“Liam.” She didn’t know what she wanted or needed to say.
“What is it, Red? What do you need?” The empathy and care in his tone wrapped warm fingers of affection around her heart and squeezed tight.
As odd as it seemed, given the amount of time she’d known him, the answer was easy. Him. She needed him.
“I just want to see you.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
When they hung up, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and caught the driver’s eye in the rear view.
“You all right, miss?” She liked the twang of his voice and wondered if he sang country music. He was older, balding on top with shorn gray hair at the sides of his head.
“Just emotional, I guess. Thank you. Will it be much longer? I have a friend meeting me.”
“About fifteen minutes.”
Sitting in the back of the dark town car, she typed her grandfather’s name into Google. It hadn’t occurred to her to do it yesterday. Why would it? Now, seeing thousands of hits pop up, she felt foolish. She scrolled through them, just wanting to get to know him a bit better. One of the headlines caught her eye and pressed the stop button on her heartbeat.
THE PRODIGAL SON IS HOME. LIAM CRUZ SIGNS WITH NASHVILLE SLAMMERS.
Oh.
My.
God.
Her breath caught in her lungs, and a strange sound left her lips.
“Everything all right, miss?”
Her eyes went to the rearview mirror. She nodded because words wouldn’t form. We need to talk.
Liam Cruz was a Nashville Slammer.
And Isla was now his boss.