Page 69 of Curveball

And for the first time, I didn’t give a shit that the door had been opened because of Walker.

Duke saw my work. He chose to move forward.

Now it was my job to close the deal.

I stood outside the elevator bays leading to the executive offices at the ballpark. I readjusted my bag over my shoulder, nervously reciting my pitch in my head over and over. Technically, I hadn’t been asked to prepare anything, but I knew better. I was always prepared for any design opportunity that presented itself. Landing this job would be huge for my career—access to Austin clients, bigger city budgets, a step beyond the small towns I’d built my business in.

The elevator chimed before the doors swung open, and I stepped inside. Once I arrived at the executive offices level, I stepped out and headed in the direction Tabitha had instructed me to go. After venturing down a few hallways, I planted myself in front of Tabitha York's desk and flashed her a smile. She glanced up from the computer she was furiously typing on and, to my surprise, greeted me in return with a warm smile before she stood, extending her hand.

"Hello, you must be Ms. King. I'm Tabitha. It's great to meet you in person."

I shook her hand. "I am, it's so great to meet you as well. Thanks for scheduling everything for today."

She tucked a strand of her silver hair behind her ear. "Not a problem at all, I know Mr. Preston is excited to discuss the clubhouse with you."

I wanted to be Tabitha York when I grew up. She was in her fifties; gray hair cut into a perfectly groomed bob—beautiful and chic as hell. She carried herself with grace, but still with an edge I appreciated.

Tabitha led me back to Duke's office. The door was already open, but Tabitha stopped outside and knocked on the door frame. "Mr. Preston, Ms. King is here."

I crossed the threshold and took a moment to take in his vast office. There were floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the pristine baseball field on one side, and the other offered a breathtaking view of the Austin skyline, with the hill country tucked neatly in the distance. Duke stood up and rounded his large desk to greet me.

After shaking my hand, he smiled, noticing the views I was busy admiring. "Pretty spectacular views, right? It's great to see you again, Farrah." He gestured towards the group of plush leather chairs that surrounded a circular table. "Please, have a seat."

I nodded. "It really is, and thanks again for the opportunity." I settled into one of the chairs as he took the chair across from me. I glanced around his office, clocking all the finishes. It was very masculine but still tastefully done. Dark wood finishes accented with deep greens and navy, championship articles framed alongside signed baseballs tucked behind glass cases.

Duke studied me a moment. "Always a designer, huh? I see the way you’re taking in the space, and I assure you, I had nothing to do with this office; it was my father's and my grandfather’s before that. It's a bit dark for my taste."

I chuckled, the nerves easing. "Sorry, am I that obvious?"

Duke smiled. "Very… but that tells me a lot. In a good way." He noticed my bag hanging off the chair, his attention shifting.

I turned to grab my bag. "I brought a proposal for the clubhouse. Ideas I had for the space, some options for finishes, that sort of thing."

He held his hand up to stop me. "I prefer we go walk the space and talk through it as we go. How does that sound?"

A grin tugged at my lips. "I like that idea, let's do it." Walking a space always made the vision come alive—for my clients and for me.

As we made our way to the clubhouse, we made brief small talk, and one thing I immediately appreciated was that he never once brought up Walker. It made the opportunity feel truly earned because of my talent, not because of who my boyfriend was.

Duke took me into the players’ lounge first. I instantly noticed the harsh fluorescent lighting, the worn leather couches, and a few flat-screen TVs hung on the wall. Off to one side was a fridge, a coffee maker, and a few tables. It felt more like a hospital waiting room than a players’ lounge for an elite major league baseball team.

After I finished looking around the space, I faced Duke.

"All right, lay it on me," he teased, clearly knowing how bad the space was.

“First thing—I’d eliminate the overhead lighting. This should be a space where the guys can actually relax and reset,” I said, gesturing around us. “I’d rip out the kitchenette and replace it with a long quartz countertop and a central island with barstools.” I pointed out where I envisioned it. “An industrial-sized fridge, a deep navy feature wall to ground the room, softened with layered lighting and fabric accents. To keep it masculine, I’d bring in reclaimed wood tables, updated leather couches, and a few recliners. Then tie everything together with an accent rug here.” I moved toward the TVs. “Four screens instead of two—positioned in a square—and subtle touches of Aviators’ colors and branding throughout.”

Duke nodded as he took in the space, his gaze tracking where I’d pointed things out. “I love it,” he said thoughtfully.

“Great. I have mockups on my computer for all the spaces,” I replied, “but where to next?”

We moved into the main locker room. “In here, the bones are solid,” I said. “I’d replace the lockers, clean up the walls, and refinish the floors—keep the layout, just elevate it.”

Next came the training room and showers. “This space needs softer lighting and a calmer palette,” I continued. “It’s about recovery and healing. I’d also upgrade the rehab equipment and training tables. And for the showers, I’d tear out the dated tile and replace it with a modern slate.”

Once we were back in his office, I pulled up the renderings on my computer and walked Duke through each space. He shook his head more than once, seemingly impressed.

“You came incredibly prepared,” he said.