Page 44 of Nutmeg + Mistletoe
“I love this song!” she shrieks, full-on white girl wasted but living her best life.
“Come on, Mrs. Mills! Let’s go dance!” I say, pulling Marlow up as the beat drops, and we head to the dance floor.
Andthat’show I became friends with my boss.
And my crush’s daughter.
We’ll deal with this whole marriage bombshell later.
Chapter thirteen
Nutmeg & Knockouts
Marlow
“We’re at Biddy Mason Charter School today where the whole team is out in full force to help pass out backpacks and school supplies to the kids ahead of school starting. I’m here with one of the new team owners, Marlow Mills, who I’m told helped organize this event?”
I force my most polished smile. God, I hate these interviews. I knew public speaking would be part of this role, but dealing with the press is an entirely different beast—and let’s just say I haven’t exactly been the most graceful with the media lately.
“Yes, Rachel,” I say, keeping my tone steady, pleasant. “Biddy Mason and the leadership team here have always had a special place in my heart. What they do for the community and the impact theyhave on these kids’ lives...it was important to me that we helped shine a light on their work.”
“That’s beautiful. And I hear the Strikers have adopted Biddy Mason for the school year?”
“Yes!” I say, my voice perking up, proud of the program I’ve poured myself into. “I’m pleased to announce that every year, the Strikers will partner with a deserving school and offer activities like you see today—camps, mentorship programs, and motivational seminars from select players throughout the year.
“In order to qualify, schools must demonstrate a commitment to community service, fair treatment of all people, and academic excellence that includes the arts.”
“That is wonderful,” Rachel nods, smile tight. And then...here it comes. “Sounds like things are headed in the right direction. Especially after some of your recent embarrassments in the headlines.”
I freeze for only half a second, but my face stays fixed in that perfectly polite smile.
Bitch.
“Yes, Rachel. Like anyone taking on a new role in any field, I’ve had a learning curve. But as you’ve noted, things are headed in the right direction.”
Corinne Rutherford, the principal of the school, thankfully steps in at that moment, taking over to talk about the school’s mission, and I take that as my cue to politely excuse myself before my professional mask cracks wide open.
Because if that woman had asked me one more passive-aggressive question about my so-calledmishaps,I was fully prepared to shove that microphone up her nose.
I step away from the cameras just as my dad’s car pulls up, and the second I see him step out, my grin grows, wide and pure, involuntary.
This is my first big event since officially stepping into my role with the team. My event. My idea. My project. And despite all the cameras, the reporters, and the unavoidable media attention that follows him everywhere, my dad insisted on being here. Just to support me.
That’s the thing about us.
Growing up, just the two of us, I always understood why he couldn’t be there for every little thing. I never resented him for working so much, for traveling, for grinding as hard as he did. I knew even then—if I made his life harder, if I added pressure—he might break. I accepted the times he couldn’t show up and made sure he felt appreciated when he did.
And now that he’s older and finally slowing down, he shows up. He’sheremore often than not.
The fact that he’s giving up his old habits, trading in his playboy ways just to make sure I have every chance to succeed in this new chapter, that he chose me, it tells me everything I need to know. That his heart has always been right where it belongs…With me. For me.
I’m headed toward my dad, already picturing the way his face will light up when I finally make it over, when I’m intercepted.
“Ms. Mills. Shaun Kennedy from theCinnamon Grove Sun.A moment, please?”
I pull my smile back into place. “Sure, Shaun. What can I do for you?”
He grins, a cocky, self-assured grin, and steps just a little too close—invading that polite bubble of space like he’s testing the waters.
