Page 50 of Renegade Ruin

Graham looks up and offers me a warm smile. “Morning. You ready for today?”

“As ready as I’m going to be,” I say with a shrug. Leaving the door open and crossing the room, I snag a seat in one of the plush gray chairs in front of his desk.

He slides his reading glasses from his face, setting them down on the desk. “Good. If you’re nervous, just remember, they aren’t anything special. Not yet.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s a glowing review for your team.”

“No, it’s honest. Right now, they don’t give a shit about you or me. The starters just want to impress Vaughn and Ben enough to keep their spot on the team, and the guys from the farm team want to wow him enough to snatch those positions for themselves.”

I’m no stranger to the game. I’ve watched players come and go from this team for the better part of my life. Cut days at spring training always leave everyone on edge. But unlike Vaughn or our GM Ben, I’m not interested in their stats. I want their heart in the game. We can work with players to make them better. We can’t teach them to have heart.

A few of the players in question have started trickling down the hall, their rambunctious greetings echoing loudly.

“You’ve got a point,” I conceded. “But I think they’re going to surprise you.”

Graham nods approvingly. “Just like you are.”

I cock my head to the side in confusion.

A smile splits his face, and he lowers his voice. “Nikki shared with me your plans for the team.”

“Damn it.” I huff, annoyed. “She wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“Ah, don’t be too hard on her,” Graham reassures, though the blush that fills his cheeks has me wondering just how close he is with our PR manager. “She’s behind you one hundred percent. She just wanted to check with me to see my plans for day-to-day schedules for the team during the season, so she could tweak and expand on some of your ideas. Then I might have strong-armed her into sharing the rest with me. Under the threat of death, I promised I would keep my mouth shut.”

“And?” I ask, needing someone to put me out of my misery and tell me if they’re brilliant or garbage before I share them with the rest of upper management.“What did you think?”

Graham scrubs his chin with his hand. “You’ll have your work cut out for you. The league is going to put up a fight. And if they don’t, you can bet Vaughn will.”

“I know, but it’s worth it.” I defend it, and I realize just how badly I want this to work.

Of course, the boys’ club will hate my ideas. Not because they aren’t smart, but because none of them give a shit about more than money. They don’t care about outdoor spaces that give fans a place to congregate and form connections. They don’t care about upgrades, giveaways, or fan experiences with the team. They don’t care that I’m looking to up our player salary cap, and at the same time, reevaluate how we build our roster to strengthen it over time. They just care about the bottom line and how spending more money—even if it is my own—will make them look bad.

“That said, I think they’re great ideas that will strengthen our organization in the long run.”

“Exactly.” I let out a sigh of relief. “Which is worth the push back. This is my team and I believe in it.”

“Keep that optimism, Wills.”

I give him a pointed stare, causing my uncle to chuckle.

“Ms. York,” he corrects with a snort. “That’s going to take some getting used to now that we’re going to be at the field more.”

“Willow is fine,” I reassure him playfully.

“Willow is fine,” a deep baritone mutters from the door.

We both turn around to see Fransisco Sharpe standing in the doorway, only he isn’t there for long.

A hand appears on his shoulder and yanks him back, and I wince when I hear the thud of his skull crashing into the wall outside the office door.

“What the fuck?” Sharpe bellows.

Graham is out of his seat faster than I thought possible for a man his age, and I quickly follow behind him to see what the hell is going on.

When we file into the hall, we are greeted with a wide-eyed Bishop with his forearm pressed against Sharpe’s throat.

“Apologize,” he growls, eyes narrowed on his teammate.

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