I chuckle nervously when she releases me. “Believe it or not, that’s more than I’ve gotten for other jobs. We did a corporate event once where the assistant told us to make it look like the color taupe. That was the theme. Taupe.”
They don’t need to know this. I have a nasty habit of chatting when the nerves hit, and I’d do well to remember I’m here on business. Still, it eases the tension when everyone chuckles.
“Is those hot dogs?” Charlie interrupts the introductions and points at a long table in the back of the suite.
Stacked from one end to the other are platters of snacks: Hot dogs, bags of old-fashioned popcorn, kettle corn drizzled in caramel, fat juicy dill pickles in wrappers, and hot churros coated in fragrant cinnamon and chunky sugar crystals.
Dallas laughs. “Want one, kiddo?”
“Yes.” Charlie rocks on his toes and tugs on my dad’s hand.
But before Dad takes a step, Dallas holds out his big hand. “Come on, let’s let your grandpa and aunt have a seat. I’ll make sure you get all the treats you want.”
Charlie was born with an inherent love of all people who have kind faces and big smiles. It causes all kinds of stress for my brother when they’re out in public, but here, no one flinches when Dallas takes my nephew’s hand. He’s patient and allows Charlie to chatter all about his favorite way to spread ketchup over hotdogs.
“Come on,” Skye says. “The game’s starting.”
It takes a severe case of willpower not to immediately look at the spot between second and third. I force myself to take in the outfield, then the pitcher’s mound, then I allow my gaze to drift to Ryder.
A poor choice. Admittedly, I’ve watched a few Kings games on TV when I’m feeling particularly intent to torture myself, but to see him here on the field, his glove tucked under his arm as he speaks with the third baseman and looks to be putting earplugs in, is an unwelcome delight.
The girlish love I once had for the man was as real as the heat of the sun, but this attraction now that he’s dropped back into my life is agitating. I chock it up to being a woman, and him, a man with sex-appeal.
Nothing to be ashamed about.
The tug to gawk at his muscles, or the way he stretches his arms, or lunges side to side to work the hamstrings, is merely natural attraction to the opposite sex.
Still, I’m grateful when Dallas and Charlie return and engage the lot of us in conversation once the game begins.
Mom was right, Dallas is a genuine guy who knows his business. Athletics and the people who love them are his specialty. He has numerous investments outside of Burton Field, but this is clearly where the man’s heart lies.
“I might not always take Griffin’s word for things, but when Wren spoke about your good work, I had to meet you.” Dallas leans back and wipes his hands after eating some of the popcorn. “You were given the employment details, right?”
“I was. I’ve reviewed the vision for the youth field house, and I’m impressed.”
I don’t even need to stretch the truth. The project is incredible and will be a positive beacon in the community.
I try not to read into the details that the field house is centered around the group home Drake and I lived in for two years. If Ryder’s project was inspired by his past relationships, I’ll start to think hedidn’tpeel us out of his heart like an unwanted virus.
I might be forced to accept I was never the same after him.
Dallas leans back in his seat when the teams switch positions. “Your technique with not only aesthetics but industrial, functional design is what we’re looking for. I do want to warn you, though, the board of Burton Field is not entirely convinced this is a project we need.”
I tilt my head. “Any particular reasons for their objections?”
“Money.” Dallas gives me a small grin. “When I bought this team, I was more interested in community outreach than selling our suite tickets with the highest price tag. Don’t get me wrong, I want to do both, but some feel we can skip the community outreach piece.”
“With all due respect to the board, cultivating trust and safe spaces for the youngest fans will create generational audiences who will keep coming to Burton Field long after they’re grown. It’s purely long-game marketing.”
With a laugh, Dallas nods. “Agreed.”
My chest grows tight. The disdain some people carry for at-risk youth, the same attitude Carina held about this project, rubs me wrong.
Common sense dictates, if children have a place to go, they will have a stronger foundation than if they are left to the wilds of the world where abusers, predators, and manipulators can find them, mold them away from their potential, and rip their foundation out from under their feet.
“I look forward to proving the point that this will benefit the whole of Burton Field, Mr. Anderson,” I say with conviction.
From the corner of my eye, I see Dad give me a little smile before he’s forced to help Charlie with his root beer cap.
