“Emmett?”
“Yeah?”
“I just... thanks for trying to have my back during the press conference last night. I didn’t get a chance to thank you. So... thank you.”
“That was all you, Reese. You held yourself together far better than I would’ve if I were in your position.” He pauses for a moment. “Don’t let them push you around, okay?”
“Only you?”
“Yes,” he says, his tone attempting to remain serious. “Only I can push you around.”
That shift feels even stronger. Like maybe, just maybe we could call a truce and work together amicably.
It’s what has me asking the next thing without fully thinking it through.
“Actually, Emmett. Maybe youshouldcome to the advisory board meeting. If you want to. I might need an ally.”
“Is that what we are now? Allies?”
“We could be. We have a long season ahead of us. It would be nice to get on the same page with how we’re running this team.”
He hums into the line. “You know allies are sometimes referred to as friends.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
There’s a beat of silence before he says, “I’m still upset about what you did to Nate.”
“I know.”
“But if you want me to go, I’ll be there. Whatever you need.”
It’s strange. Every now and then, I’ll see this gentle side of him. It’s probably the side that raised a daughter. It’s probably the side that the players get when they need it, which has them all so attached to him. You wouldn’t know it from the way he looks, all big and broody, covered in tattoos, but I’ll admit, I could see the appeal of Emmett Montgomery if I looked for it.
As I hold the phone to one ear, a strand of my hair falls into my face on the other side. I lift my hand out of the water to push it back and, without thinking, create a splash loud enough he can hear through the line.
That’s confirmed when he asks, “Are you swimming right now?”
Yes.“Yes” would be the right answer. Or taking a dip in the hot tub. Or doing the dishes. Literally anything other than, “I’m taking a bath, actually.”
There’s far too long of a silence on the other end, until finally his deep voice says, “Oh.”
Why the hell did I just admit to that? Now he’s probably picturing me naked.
“But don’t picture me naked or anything.”
What is wrong with me? Who says that to their employee?Don’t picture me naked, you know, just in case you were thinking about doing that.
I’m expecting him to tell me he’s hanging up so he can call HR, but instead I’m met with my very own retort. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Now I’m the one left speechless on the line.
After I can’t seem to come back with any sort of response, Emmett fills the lingering silence. “I’ll let you get back to your naked bath, Reese.”
“Yep. Thanks.”
“Enjoy it.”
Before I can find some words that somehow might push this conversation back onto the professional side of things, Emmett ends the call.
