“I am. Do me a favor and save me a postgame interview? It’ll give me some brownie points with my boss to get a one-on-one with everyone’s favorite field manager.”
“I doubt I’m everyone’s favorite.”
She puts her hand on his upper arm, and I feel my eyes widen as I watch the contact. “Maybe not everyone’s. But you’re mine.”
I want to like her. I want to root for her. I want to see more women succeed in male-dominated fields the way she is, butgood God.It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.
Is everyone just completely obsessed with this guy?
“I’ll be covering the whole series actually,” she continues. “And I believe I’m staying at the same hotel as your team. What do you think about extending that interview over dinner?”
Well, damn. I admire the courage, but it doesn’t change the fact that I find myself hoping he turns her down.
And he does . . . kind of.
“As tempting as that sounds, my daughter is in town for this series, so we have dinner plans. But thank you for the invite.”
I can’t quite tell if he’s turning her down because he wants to, or if his plans with Miller truly are the reason he can’t get together with her later.
Apparently, Kelly can’t quite decipher Emmett’s motives either. “Totally understandable. Family comes first. But I’ll be at the hotel bar tonight if you feel like a nightcap afterward.”
“Sorry,” I cut in before I can think better of it. “But the game is about to start, and we need to finish prepping.”
Kelly’s expression gains an annoyed edge when she looks at me, but she’s all smiles again when turning to Emmett and saying, “Good luck out there.”
“Yep. Thanks.”
Emmett slowly turns back to face me, single brow raised and the most knowing grin on his lips.
“What?” I ask, entirely innocent.
“We need to finish prepping for the game?”
“Yes. You need to focus.”
“Ineed to focus?”
“I think wealljust need to focus. And you know, getting friendly with a reporter wouldn’t look good for the club.”
Now he can’t hold back his laughter. “You make it sound as if I’m sleeping with her.”
It takes everything in me not to ask if he has.
“Which I’m not, by the way,” he supplies
“Didn’t ask.”
“But you wanted to.”
I open my mouth to tell him he’s wrong, but judging by that stupid smirk on his face, he’d know I was lying.
“And we’re notfriendly,” he continues. “I hardly know her.”
“She called you Monty. You said it yourself. Your friends call you Monty.”
“Youdon’t.”
“Well, we aren’t friends, Emmett. I’m your boss.”
