great-great-grandson of the company’s founder. He headed up Riley O’Brien & Co.’s global marketing and communications department, managing a massive group of people.
The dark-haired man appeared to be just a few years younger than Zeke, in his early thirties. His tall, lean frame hinted at an active lifestyle.
Cal spoke first. “Hi, everyone. Let’s start by introducing ourselves. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Cal O’Brien.” He pointed at the twenty-something Asian guy standing next to Zeke. “Bohai, why don’t you go first… tell us your name and what you do for Riley O’Brien & Co.”
After everyone had introduced themselves, Cal said, “We need a team captain—someone who can represent the team during the games, assign fielding positions, and create the lineup.” His light blue eyes skimmed over the group. “Anyone want to volunteer?”
Silence greeted Cal’s question, and he chuckled. “I feel like that teacher in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off … Anyone? Anyone?”
It was physically painful for Zeke to just stand there. The military had conditioned him to step up.
He waited, counting off the seconds in his head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. No one raised their hand.
With an internal sigh of resignation, he said, “I’ll do it. I’ll be the team captain.”
Cal’s eyebrows arched. “Yeah?”
Zeke nodded. “I played baseball in high school, and I also played on the intramural softball team in college.”
“Sounds like we’re in good hands, then.”
Being the team captain wouldn’t be all that terrible. At least it would allow Zeke to decide what position he played. And he would be able to substitute other players in the lineup so he wouldn’t have to run bases.
“Let’s go sit down and decide who’s going to do what,” Cal suggested, tilting his head toward the bench inside the chain-link dugout.
As the group started toward the dugout, the O’Brien heir fell into step beside Zeke. “This is a first,” the younger man said.
Glancing sideways, Zeke asked, “What’s a first?”
“Usually, I get stuck being the team captain. I think it’s because no one wants to step on my toes.”
Zeke stopped mid-stride. Everyone except for Cal continued on. They turned to face each other.
“Am I stepping on your toes?”
“Hell, no! I’m glad someone had the balls to volunteer. I’m tired of always being the team captain. It’s a pain in the ass.”
Cal’s candor made Zeke laugh. “I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Zeke shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve volunteered to do something unpleasant.”
The other man stared at Zeke, his gaze assessing. “You’re one of the veterans we hired through our new program, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought so.” When Zeke arched his eyebrow in a silent question, Cal explained, “It’s the way you stand.” He held out his right hand. “Thank you for your service to our country.”
It made Zeke uncomfortable when people thanked him for his military service. He had always felt fortunate that he could serve. But he was glad people recognized the sacrifice that servicemen and women made every day.
Shaking Cal’s hand, Zeke said, “It was an honor.”
“How do you like working for us?” Cal asked as they resumed the trek toward the dugout. Before Zeke could answer, the other man snorted derisively. “I doubt you’d tell me if you didn’t like it … since I’m one of the O’Briens.”
“You’re right,” Zeke agreed. “But I wouldn’t lie and tell you that I liked it, either.”
Cal laughed, clearly delighted by his answer. “I think Riley O’Brien & Co. is lucky to have you, Zeke,” he said, slapping him on the back.
Zeke spent the next thirty minutes assessing his teammates’s batting and fielding abilities. Their level of skill surprised him. Apparently, Riley O’Brien & Co. employees took their softball pretty seriously.
With Cal’s help,
The dark-haired man appeared to be just a few years younger than Zeke, in his early thirties. His tall, lean frame hinted at an active lifestyle.
Cal spoke first. “Hi, everyone. Let’s start by introducing ourselves. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Cal O’Brien.” He pointed at the twenty-something Asian guy standing next to Zeke. “Bohai, why don’t you go first… tell us your name and what you do for Riley O’Brien & Co.”
After everyone had introduced themselves, Cal said, “We need a team captain—someone who can represent the team during the games, assign fielding positions, and create the lineup.” His light blue eyes skimmed over the group. “Anyone want to volunteer?”
Silence greeted Cal’s question, and he chuckled. “I feel like that teacher in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off … Anyone? Anyone?”
It was physically painful for Zeke to just stand there. The military had conditioned him to step up.
He waited, counting off the seconds in his head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. No one raised their hand.
With an internal sigh of resignation, he said, “I’ll do it. I’ll be the team captain.”
Cal’s eyebrows arched. “Yeah?”
Zeke nodded. “I played baseball in high school, and I also played on the intramural softball team in college.”
“Sounds like we’re in good hands, then.”
Being the team captain wouldn’t be all that terrible. At least it would allow Zeke to decide what position he played. And he would be able to substitute other players in the lineup so he wouldn’t have to run bases.
“Let’s go sit down and decide who’s going to do what,” Cal suggested, tilting his head toward the bench inside the chain-link dugout.
As the group started toward the dugout, the O’Brien heir fell into step beside Zeke. “This is a first,” the younger man said.
Glancing sideways, Zeke asked, “What’s a first?”
“Usually, I get stuck being the team captain. I think it’s because no one wants to step on my toes.”
Zeke stopped mid-stride. Everyone except for Cal continued on. They turned to face each other.
“Am I stepping on your toes?”
“Hell, no! I’m glad someone had the balls to volunteer. I’m tired of always being the team captain. It’s a pain in the ass.”
Cal’s candor made Zeke laugh. “I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Zeke shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve volunteered to do something unpleasant.”
The other man stared at Zeke, his gaze assessing. “You’re one of the veterans we hired through our new program, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought so.” When Zeke arched his eyebrow in a silent question, Cal explained, “It’s the way you stand.” He held out his right hand. “Thank you for your service to our country.”
It made Zeke uncomfortable when people thanked him for his military service. He had always felt fortunate that he could serve. But he was glad people recognized the sacrifice that servicemen and women made every day.
Shaking Cal’s hand, Zeke said, “It was an honor.”
“How do you like working for us?” Cal asked as they resumed the trek toward the dugout. Before Zeke could answer, the other man snorted derisively. “I doubt you’d tell me if you didn’t like it … since I’m one of the O’Briens.”
“You’re right,” Zeke agreed. “But I wouldn’t lie and tell you that I liked it, either.”
Cal laughed, clearly delighted by his answer. “I think Riley O’Brien & Co. is lucky to have you, Zeke,” he said, slapping him on the back.
Zeke spent the next thirty minutes assessing his teammates’s batting and fielding abilities. Their level of skill surprised him. Apparently, Riley O’Brien & Co. employees took their softball pretty seriously.
With Cal’s help,
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