I nod. “Yeah. But I’m still going to get Gabe to cancel the other interviews. I’ll let you know what Isla says to our offer.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
His parting shot stays with me long after he leaves my office.
Do I? It’s not like me to be impulsive. But truth be told, from the second I stumbled into her at the coffeeshop, my shitty balance working in my favour for once, I felt something.
Having her walk into the interview just a short time later felt like a sign. Her being absolutely perfect for the job, another.
I might be setting myself up for nonstop torture every workday, seeing her and not being able to do a damn thing about it, but she needs a job, and I need a marketing expert.
Most of all, I need to see Isla Forrester again.
Gabe raises his eyebrows when I give him the task of canceling the three other interviews we had scheduled for the afternoon, but he does it anyway. And as soon as Dom confirms the starting salary we can offer, I take the letter Gabe has drafted, edit it to add a few things, and send it off to Isla.
With all that done, I push away from my desk and move to stand. But just as I push onto my feet, my left thigh cramps up.
“Fuck.” I grimace as I dig my thumbs into the muscle above my knee. I don’t get hit with these kind of cramps often, thanks to the rigorous exercise regime and regular physical therapy protocol I still follow. But every now and then, my body rebels.
The cramp turns into nerve pain, jolting down my leg, and into the thin air where my calf and foot should be. I glare down at the pant leg covering my prosthetic. I’ve never had a fucking foot on my left side, so why thehell does my brain seem to think I did? Phantom nerve pain is common for amputees, but nobody cut off my leg.
I just never had one to begin with. My mom explained it to me when I was old enough to understand. That when she was pregnant with me, a band of tissue from the amniotic sac wrapped around my leg, just below my knee. The limb never even had a chance to fully form.
But the nerve centers in my brain sure as shit think it did, and every now and then, they like to send lightning bolts down my leg that hurt like a son of a bitch.
I breathe through the pain and continue to massage the muscles of my quad until it eases to a tolerable level. Testing my balance, I push up to stand again, putting more of my weight on my right leg this time. Once I’m confident I can walk, I close my laptop and put it in my bag before heading out of the shared office space I’ve taken over for the time being.
With my day clear now, I want to head to the stadium and check out the renovation work being done, as well as see if I can meet the new manager who will head up the coaching staff, who arrived last week with his family from Vancouver.
Half an hour later, I’m pulling my sports car into a parking spot outside the Cedar Creek Thunder’s home stadium. The building is a mix of chipped-paint-covered bricks and aging, cracked concrete. Decades of exposure to the elements, combined with a lack of upkeep and maintenance, have this place looking more like a creepy horror movie set than a place for families to enjoy the day at a ball game. From my parking spot, I can see thatthe corrugated metal paneling covering the upper levels of seating is a patchwork of rust. Same with the tall light towers that frame the outfield.
And yet, despite its current run-down state, there’s something about the stadium that calls to me. This place matters. To me, to the team, and to the town. It’s my job to remind everyone of that.
Fixing up the building and the field is the easy part. With enough money and a good construction crew, this place will look incredible in no time. And already, I can hear the sounds of the team I’ve hired hard at work.
Rebuilding the team and getting the town on board is another story. And that’s why hiring Isla was so important. She gets it—the importance of having Cedar Creek believe in the Thunder again.
Because she’s a mother…It’s crossed my mind more than once that there might be a Mr. Forrester, even though I didn’t notice a ring. She’s a mother, which means her kid has a father. Honestly, if she does have a partner, it would be a good thing. I need something to shut down the instant attraction I felt for her.
The fact that she has a kid doesn’t affect my decision to hire her in the slightest. But I could see it on her face when she mentioned her son; she was preparing for me to use that information against her. Instead, she achieved what I think she wanted to. She proved she was quite possibly the only candidate to have the right motivation to see this project through.
Not that I would know, seeing as I didn’t interview anyone else…
Pressing the button on my key fob to lock my car, Ihead inside and make my way to the locker room, and more importantly, the coaching offices next to it. I offered to temporarily set up the coaching staff in the shared office space I’ve rented, but the response was clear: they wanted to stay where the players would be.
Shag carpet, chipped paint, and all.
Sure enough, I find the man I’m looking for in the office. Rafe Montego is the former starting pitcher for the Vancouver Tridents major league team. He retired several years ago, and three months ago, I convinced him to come out of retirement and join us as the head of the coaching staff. He and his wife moved over in July, their only kid being in university, I believe.
And he’s not alone. With him is the batting coach, Levi Hutton, who’s been with the team a couple of years, with a similar background to Rafe. He played a season in the major leagues before having to retire after suffering a devastating knee injury.
“Luca, good to see you.” Rafe stands up and reaches out a hand. I shake it firmly, nodding at him.
“Likewise. I had some time free up in my schedule and thought I’d stop by and see how things are progressing.” I turn to Levi. “Levi, hope all is well.”
He nods, lifting a chipped Thunder mug, which has the most tacky cartoon storm cloud logo on it, to his lips. Taking a sip, he then grimaces. “Aside from the sludge we’re calling coffee around here, everything’s fine.”
I give him a small grin. “Coaches’ office needs a new coffee maker. Noted.”
