It hadn’t even been a consideration that I’d run into Jared Clemmin’s daughter last night. Now, taking the time to look at them side-by-side, there’s an obvious resemblance with their dark hair and similar eyes and nose shapes, but last night, how could I have ever known?
Okay, so maybe the only reason we knew about the bar in Magnolia Fields was because Jared had mentioned it, and had even taken us out for drinks there, but still, that feels like a pretty big stretch to make. Even Hudson, Mateo, Easten, and my other buddies from the team who went last night hadn’t pieced it together.
“And I better not hear any talk of nepotism or of her not being qualified. If anything, she’s doing us all the favor by lending us her services. After earning her Communications degree from Texas A&M, she's spent the past two years working in Los Angeles for some of the biggest brands out there, half of whom have only achieved their current level of recognition because she was the one who put their names on the map.” His serious gaze slowly pans over us. “However, just because she’s here due to her own merits doesn’t mean I’m not going to be a protective father, so I’m only going to say this once: you will show her the level of respect she deserves.”
Hollis has kept a professional smile on her face, albeit with an occasional blush on her cheeks, but that calm demeanor falters as she rolls her eyes.
“Okay, Mr. Clemmins. That’s more than enough from you,” she jumps in, clapping her hands together with a radiant smile. “Like he said, I’m Hollis and I’m genuinely excited to be here. Most importantly I’m ready to become an official member of the Honky Tonk family. I’ve heard nothing but the highest praise about each and every one of you from my father, and it’s been practically impossible not to come across many of you online."
“I’ve seen so many of your videos and it’s clear a lot of you already know what you’re doing, which is why I want this to be a collaboration. I’m not here to take over or fix something that isn’t broken. So if any of you have any ideas, no matter how big, small, or ridiculous they may seem, I want to hear them all. My door, as well as my DMs are always open, so please, never hesitate to reach out.”
“So, does this mean since she turned you down she's fair game?” Jaxon mutters under his breath.
I shoot him a glare.
I don’t exactly have any real claim over the beautiful goddess that is Hollis Clemmens, but that doesn’t mean I want any of these guys shooting their shot either. Not that they’d even stand a chance. The way she shut me down was so effortless, it was almost impressive.
All I know, as my eyes remain locked on Hollis as she talks privately with her father, is that I’m nowhere near ready to tap out. I meant every word I told her last night. I’m a patient man, and if she wants to play hard to get, I’m completely down. Easy is overrated, anyway.
If time is what she needs, she can have it. But if what she really needs is someone stubborn enough to chip away at that wall of hers then hand me a fucking toolbox and I’ll gladly start hammering away. I play to win, and right now, I’m playing for her whether she’s ready for me or not.
Game fucking on.
3
Hollis
As the huddle breaks and my dad sends the teams off to practice, the weight I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying lifts from my shoulders. I hate that I'm second guessing myself. I’m more than qualified for this position, and already have so many fun ideas circling about my brain, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been nervous about meeting everyone.
Being a woman isn’t always easy, especially when you’re working in a field that’s usually dominated by men. Many doubt your qualifications and resent taking your direction or advice, and often go out of their way to make your life a living hell.
And there’s the fact that I’m going to be in charge of not only the Honky Tonk Ball’s social media as a whole, but the two entertainment league teams—the Honky Tonks and the Rowdy Rattlers. That’s a lot of men’s feelings to consider. And to think, they often refer to us as the overly emotional ones.
So not only do I feel at a slight disadvantage for being a woman, I also have to worry about the people who think I only got the position because of who my dad is—and I get it. I know exactly how this looks. It’s why I’ve turned him down approximately one million times already. This isn’t his first ‘please come work for me, kiddo,’ rodeo.
Being the daughter of a very famous and incredibly loved former baseball player is... well, we’ll just go with interesting for now. His name has opened a lot of doors, all of which I’ve spent the majority of my adult life politely closing. If people are going to know my name, I want it to be because of what I do, not because I’m the product of two well-known individuals. They’ve already made their mark on the world, and I want to do the same in my own way.
I’ve held off for a while now, but it’s also gotten harder not to want to step in. I see so much promise in the Honky Tonk Ball organization and know exactly what it’s capable of becoming if someone could come in and execute the way it's needed.
That’s been the most frustrating part. I’ve seen the way each social media manager has stepped in and wasted all that potential with poor decisions and even sloppier execution. It’s been nothing short of heartbreaking.
Finally, enough was enough, and I finally gave in. My newfound California freedom will have to take a break as I give Texas, and the Honky Tonk crew, one final chance.
At least everyone seems welcoming so far, as many of the players, coaches, and staff step forward to introduce themselves. A few of the faces feel familiar, whether it’s from social media, or from the games I’ve seen streamed online.
I'm overwhelmed at best, but do my best to stay positive as I shake their hands and commit their names to memory—or at least I try to. There are a lot of people here.
“Hey there,” a deep voice calls, feeling a bit too familiar for my liking. “Hollis, right?” he asks, a smile working its way up his annoyingly smug face. And fuck, those dimples are just as eager to make an appearance.
I’m stunned into silence, but luckily, my dad takes over.
“Fletcher!” He beams, catching me slightly off guard with the name.
I knew I was right to trust my gut—too bad I only half-listened. I’d known there was something oddly familiar about his stupidly handsome face. Instead of questioning it more, I’d gone and attributed it to the fact that we were in the small town of Magnolia Fields. Why wouldn’t I see someone I recognized?
The realization crawls under my skin, tightening the already twisting knot in my stomach. Mason—or Fletcher, or whatever his name is—looks familiar because heisfamiliar. He plays for the damn Honky Tonks, because of course he does. Why wouldn’t the universe want to screw me over even more?
Or maybe it’s the universe’s way of messing with me for being such a self-absorbed, shitty daughter. Maybe this is just what I deserve. If I hadn’t been so dead set on distancing myself from my dad and his new pride and joy, I’d have been smart enough to pick up on the fact that Mason was one of his players. God, Ireally should have paid closer attention to the games, or rather, the names of all the players.
