“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 Ididn’tdance 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.
