by Jody Holford
This time, when he leaned back, he whispered, “They’re going to love you, babe. It’s impossible not to.”
If her heart had a face, it would have fallen flat on it. Her mouth dropped open, and then her pulse scrambled wildly. Addie had said to enjoy a normal night, but there was nothing normal about realizing, as she stared into his beautiful, dark eyes, that she was falling for Nashville’s favorite ball playing son. Or that he might be falling back.
Chapter Twenty-Five
There were moments in his life—not even full moments, just snapshots, a few seconds here and there—when Liam felt like he was on the outside looking in. What he saw in those fractions of time made him so freaking grateful, it sucked the air out of his lungs. As he introduced Isla to his parents and his grandmother, his breath snagged. In this moment, he, literally, had it all. The family, the career, his health, happiness…and her.
Isla was the unexpected gift he hadn’t known he was missing. He’d been building himself into the man he wanted to be. Good son, brother, friend. Excellent ballplayer. Good role model. And now, the final piece…Isla. The man he wanted to be for her.
Yet, instead of filling him with utter happiness, it tugged at the threads of worry. How long could it last? Would it end his career before he was ready? Would she think it was too much and walk away? Stop. Just enjoy the moment. Take the win.
“You did well, son,” his dad said under his breath, slapping him on the back.
They watched from the other side of the kitchen as Isla tasted his mother’s homemade salsa, a look of delight on her face.
“This is amazing,” she said, her tone genuine. She looked over at Liam. “We need to bottle that and get it in the stadium.”
His mother’s face lit up like the sun was shining directly on her, and Liam laughed. Yeah. He had it all.
The doorbell rang, and Liam hoped his mom hadn’t gone crazy with invitations. Small family dinner, she’d said. He’d been looking forward to this all week. When he opened the door to see his cousins Diego and Davis, he groaned.
“Nice greeting, cous,” Diego said, handing over a six-pack of Sam Adams.
Davis laughed. “He doesn’t want us to meet his girl. He charms them with the whole baseball player thing, but when they meet us, it doesn’t matter.”
Liam shut the door behind them, still laughing. When they came into the kitchen, Isla was laughing at something Talia had said, but he caught her eye, and his heart flipped over.
“Damn. No wonder you’ve been keeping her to yourself.” Diego let out a low whistle.
Liam punched him on the shoulder. “Shut it. She’s mine. And we’re keeping things quiet.”
“Because she’s your boss, dude,” Davis said.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious. I wasn’t aware.” He rolled his eyes.
Isla came over, her smile soft and sweet. He wondered what family gatherings were like at her place. Probably a little on the chilly side.
“Hi,” she said, coming to his side.
“Hey, babe. These two losers are my cousins. Davis and Diego. They’re my mom’s sister’s kids. Guys, this is Isla Bennett.”
She shook both of their hands, but her eyes narrowed on Davis. She pointed to the design on the chest of his shirt that promoted his bakery.
“Was it you who brought the muffins and pastries?”
Davis nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You are a culinary genius.”
Liam put his hand around her waist and tugged her to his side. Talia came over and grabbed the beer from his hand, greeted their cousins.
“Don’t feed his ego, Red,” Liam said.
“Ha! My ego. Just wait until the season starts. Cruz’s ego gets so big no one else can fit in the room.”
Talia came back with the top popped on one of the beers and, before Liam could shut his cousins up, joined in. “Yes. During the season, you’ll have to recognize you’re in the presence of greatness, Isla.”
“Knock it off,” Liam warned, a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, I can back it up.”
They laughed, and Isla looked up at him. He hoped he wasn’t imagining the level of affection he saw there. Hoped he wasn’t transferring his own fall and pretending it was hers. He wanted her right there with him.
“I can’t wait to see you play,” she said, her voice soft and sweet.
Pride and eagerness swamped him. He leaned down, kissed her cheek. “Me either,” he whispered for only her to hear.
“You and every other woman. The Cruz Cuties are coming out in full force. You know the chick who runs the whole thing? She came into the bakery the other day and said they’re making a logo and want to know if I can put it on cookies.”
Liam stared at Davis, waiting for him to say he was joking. Talia burst out laughing, and Diego joined in.
Isla’s eyes went wide, and his stomach sank. Dammit. Those women did not matter, and if the first woman who actually mattered to him read too much into—
“That’s brilliant,” Isla said.
His fingers flexed on her hip. “Huh?”
She got that look, the one he recognized as ideas brewing in that gorgeous brain of hers. “This is a group of women who love you and, by extension, the team. It’s a completely organic pool of advertising. Davis, what did you tell her?”
Davis rubbed the back of his neck and snagged Talia’s beer. “That I’d consider it.” He sent an apologetic look to Liam and a drink of the beer before passing it back to his cousin. “Sorry, dude. Custom orders bring in good coin.”
Liam arched his brows toward Isla. She rubbed her hands together. God, she was adorable.
“Do these women get any attention, or have they in the past?”
Talia pursed her lips. “They get interviewed sometimes. They had shirts made up last year so whenever Cruz was in town with the Dodgers, they’d show up wearing them.”
“What are you thinking?” Liam asked.
His mother and father joined them, milling around the kitchen island, the smell of tacos and quesadillas making his stomach growl. His mother was drinking a glass of red. They stood, his father’s arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him and listened to the conversation. They were a unit. Friends as well as husband and wife. Before Liam could think too deeply about how much he suddenly wanted that, his mother’s face scrunched up.
“Bunch of grown women chasing after my baby boy. Disgusting,” she said. Delilah Cruz loved his father, her children, baseball, and food. He wondered about Isla’s family. In particular, her mom.
“Depends on how you look at it, Mrs. Cruz,” Isla said, clearly still mulling over her thoughts.
“Dee. You call me Dee.”
Isla grinned, leaned in to Liam. “All right, Dee. Yes, these women, who all appear to be much older than Liam, seem infatuated with him, and who can blame them? You have gorgeous children, and it’s easy to see where they got their looks.”
Jesus. Liam’s mouth dropped open. “You should run your own PR firm, babe. That was slick.”
She swatted his stomach. “That was true.” Isla looked around the circle of his closest family members and spoke excitedly. “The thing is, you can capitalize on different aspects of it. Some of these women likely have husbands, and maybe they’re not watching the game or maybe they are, but if we throw some comps at them, they’ll get their husbands on board. Which means their friends will get on board, and that translates to ticket sales.”
Liam processed that. “So, you think giving them some free tickets will turn into an increase in sales?”
She grinned. “Yes. Free tickets or maybe use of the owner’s box for the opening game? That’s the kind of thing that is going to snag interest, get people pumped up.”
Shaking his head, he couldn’t help the smile making his cheeks ache. “You’re coming into your own, Red.” She was flushed with happiness; it was radiating from her entire being. She was going to pull this off.
And he was going to stand at her side and
watch her shine. Another first for him—even wanting to do so.
“Well, as long as they aren’t handsy with my boy,” his mom said.
Everyone laughed, but Isla took his hand and squeezed. “Don’t worry, Dee. I’ll keep an eye on him and make sure they keep their hands to themselves.”
“Your girl is funny,” his dad said, approval shining in the weathered, happy lines of his face.
“Let’s eat,” his mother said.
They helped bring things to the already set table and gathered around it. As they laughed and ate, Liam’s mind kept wandering to the future. This time next year? Would Isla be with him next Christmas?
He’d spent his life making things happen, because he knew what he wanted for himself. Now this woman was wrapped around his heart and, though he didn’t like not knowing, not being the one in control of what was next, with Isla and him, he was content to wait and see.
…
Later that night, when they’d gotten back to Liam’s place, when he’d poured them both a glass of wine and they were lying on the couch watching Sporting 101, the local station, it felt like they’d been a couple for so much longer than they had. They weren’t being as careful as they probably should have been, but by the time both of their days wound down, no one was hovering in the shadows.
He didn’t know how much longer he had it in him to hide. The rightness of it was something Liam had never encountered with anything other than baseball. Was it time he told her?
Isla leaned forward, glancing at the screen as she put her wineglass on the coffee table. “I’m always happy to spend the night with you, but tonight was really amazing. Thank you for letting me be part of it.”
His stomach warmed. “Told you my family would love you.” He set his wine down and pulled her in to his side, using one hand to stroke her jaw while he kissed her.
Isla leaned back and laughed. “It’s mutual. Your parents are adorable. You look so much like your dad. Is everyone in your family good-looking?”
Liam grinned. “Besides me and my dad, you mean?”
Isla poked him in the stomach. “Plus your sister, your mom, your cousins,” Isla said, her grin too wide.
“Diego and Davis? You think they’re good-looking?”
“Of course. And Davis has the added bonus of being a baker. A good-looking man who can cook?”
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me? I can cook.”
Isla’s laugh lit a fire inside him. She pushed him back on the couch and threw one of her pajama-clad legs over his so she was straddling him. She tunneled her hands through his hair and brought their faces closer.
“It’s probably wrong, but I love that growl you get in your voice when you think I could possibly find another man hotter than you,” she whispered. Right before she tried to close the distance, she added, “As if.”
Reaching up, he nipped at her lower lip, ran his tongue over it, then turned his head to kiss her. His eyes were half-mast, and it was just a hint of something on the television that caught his eye enough to pull back. Isla stared down at him in confusion. His gut cramped. She looked back over her shoulder, awkwardly reaching for the remote and turning it up.
“Big Slammers news. So much for a trio of hometown boys. Bruce Gains has announced an epic two-for-one trade. Tommy Fortin and Corey Dryer will be leaving the Slammers after only two years to join the Padres. In return, Nashville will be getting another heavy hitter, Reid Remmington. Is Gains already looking for Liam Cruz’s replacement? Rumors are swirling that this will be Cruz’s final year.”
Isla was tucked in to his side, her legs over his lap and her mouth open. “I cannot believe he did this. I told him I wanted those two to stay. And what the hell is he doing bringing in someone to overshadow you?”
He could feel the anger coursing off her in waves, so he worked to push down his own. He tried to be rational. “Unfortunately, this kind of stuff happens all the time. There’s a ton of politics involved.” Even as he said it, his stomach filled with unease. Was that it? Just typical politics?
She boosted herself up off his lap and stood, grabbing her phone from the table. “I get politics. I may not get sports yet, but I understand manipulation and maneuvering, and this was a power play. It’s Bruce pissing in his corner to show he thinks he can. And I’m about to show him, he’s dead wrong.”
Liam stared at her, surprised by the fury etched on her face. Surprised, and a little turned on. She rarely swore, and she looked so soft and sweet on the outside, her backbone absolutely thrilled him. As long as he didn’t end up on the receiving end of it.
“What are you going to do?” His curiosity was more than a little piqued.
She looked at him, those gorgeous eyes that hooked him from day one flaring with a different kind of passion. “I’m going to fire him.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Isla twisted her hands together, squeezing them. She paced the small office she called her own, the one that she used when she needed time to think. Her grandfather’s office may have suited him, but Isla didn’t like having all of that…space. Oddly enough, she felt more claustrophobic in large spaces than small. Bruce had told her he’d meet her at the stadium, and that was fine.
She understood home-field advantage. What Bruce Gains didn’t understand was that this was her home field now. And she was tired of him pushing her and everyone else around.
Yes, he was in charge of the team. But she was in charge of him.
Isla flattened her palms against her dress pants and forced herself to take deep breaths. She could do this. After she told him, to his face, what she thought of him undermining her every move and highlighting her moments of foolishness, she’d fire him. Josiah would make it official. And then she’d be on the hunt for a GM. One problem at a time.
When she turned, intent on no longer pacing, she saw her father standing in the door way.
Or maybe more than one problem at a time. “Dad.” He kept flying out to Nashville to pressure her, and she knew, this was another thing she had to deal with. She’d thought she put him firmly in his place on the last visit. Why couldn’t he just let it go?
“Isla. You look…perturbed.” He walked into the office, took a seat without invitation.
She whirled on him. “I’m pissed off. There’s a difference. And honest to God, Dad, I don’t have time for this—for you—today.”
His smile dug under her skin like an infection, turning her stomach.
Before she could tell him to leave, Bruce came in. The two men greeted each other, and every instinct Isla possessed stood up and shouted, What is going on?
“Shut the door, Isla.” Her father’s tone was hard. She’d heard it often enough in meetings.
“This isn’t your show. I need you to leave. Bruce and I have a meeting.”
Bruce leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. He wore a Slammers ball cap and T-shirt, a look of boredom on his face.
“I’m going to sit in on the meeting, and you’re going to want the door closed for what I have to say.”
She couldn’t afford to waste time with this. Maybe killing two birds, or taking down two arrogant asses, with one stone was the way to go.
She shut the door harder than necessary and rounded her desk to give herself some personal space.
“Have a seat, Bruce.” She gestured to the one beside her father.
Bruce ambled over and sat, crossed one ankle over his knee, chewing on something with irritating exaggeration.
“You’re fired,” she said, yanking the Band-Aid clear off.
Bruce smiled. “You might want to rethink that.”
“Are you threatening me?” She leaned forward, folded her arms, and ignored the trickle of sweat beading on her neck.
Her father unfolded his briefcase, sifted through it.
“Nope. No threats,” Bruce said. “I just don’t think that’s the way this is going to go. You see, Ms. Bennett, you’re a sweet girl and all, but this is the big lea
gues, and you have no business in them.”
“Regardless,” she said, her back stiffening, her eyes darting to her father. She ignored the unease prickling at the base of her spine. “I am here, this is my team, and you are no longer part of it.”
Her father took an orange manila envelope from his case and opened it, pulling something from within.
“I think you’re making a mistake, Isla,” her father said.
“This has nothing to do with you,” she snapped. Don’t be emotional. This is business. What is he even doing here?
“It has a lot to do with me. I warned you I didn’t want to play dirty. Mostly because you don’t have it in you to do the same. I’ve always tried to give you every advantage. You’re rich because of me. You’re successful and well educated and can have a life every socialite dreams of. Because of me.”
She shook her head, feeling fuzzy. “When have I ever given you any indication I wanted the life of a socialite? I don’t even know what that means.” Did he think she was striving to be a reality show star or something?
He lay glossy photos on the desk in front of her, spreading them out.
Isla’s breath froze, sending pain through her chest and lungs, halting the beat of her heart.
Her and Liam. Kissing. Making out. His hand in her hair, on her ass, hers up his shirt. Them on the field, him coming out of her apartment, her leaving his place, more of them while he showed her how to hit a ball.
How? They’d been careful. Maybe not as careful as they should have been, but the paparazzi weren’t shy. There’d been no one hiding in bushes anywhere or waiting for them at their homes.
Realization hit. These weren’t sent to her father by someone looking to make a quick buck.
Isla looked up and met her father’s gaze. It was colder than the emptiness in her chest.
“You had someone photographing me?” Her words were whispered.
“I did warn you, dear. Now let me lay out the situation. I want this team. It should have been mine. But I’m not selfish. You can retain ten percent. You’ll announce to the media that it’s simply too much, too overwhelming. You’re bringing me on as majority owner because you know your grandfather would have wanted us working together as a family.”
