The Lucky Charm (The Portland Pioneers) Read Online Free

the scenes, she’d be front and center, right in front of the camera—and suddenly, nausea blossomed at the base of her stomach.
    Izzy forced her smile, and reminded herself that she’d never failed yet.
    “Ina, hold all my calls.” This was directed toward the receptionist, as Izzy followed her new boss down a series of hallways flanked by row after row of cubicles. Toby’s office was at the end, with a halfway-decent view of Mt. Hood, or what might have been a halfway-decent view if it hadn’t been clouded over and drizzling outside.
    Izzy took a seat in front of the desk and folded her hands in her lap as he settled in the big leather captain’s chair. “Mr. Palmer, I appreciate the opportunity to join your team.”
    He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not going to lie and tell you all sorts of pretty smelling shit, Dalton. You’re stuck with me, and I’m fucking stuck with you. So cut the bullshit.”
    Izzy gripped the chair handle at this rather unorthodox response. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” she said, trying for an optimistic cheer, when all she felt was disbelief at the situation she’d landed in: dumpy office, losing team, shitty boss.
    “The Pioneers are bad ,” Toby continued, “and they’re not really on the verge of getting better.”
    Her knuckles turned white on the chair. “You’d better be careful or you’ll scare me off,” Izzy said. It was all bravado she didn’t feel. In Seattle, under Charlie, she’d felt assured of her place. She’d been confident and sure and in charge. Now, all she felt was a paralyzing fear that she’d fail.
    “If only,” he said darkly, smoothing back his full head of white hair. She could give him that; unlike Charlie, he still took good care of himself. A bit of a belly, but other than that, his suit fit moderately well, and his facial structure was still chiseled enough that he must have been handsome when he was younger. She hoped all of the above was evidence of a wife he still loved, not a ploy to attract another. The last thing she needed was a sexual-harassment problem.
    He got to his feet, wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that faced Hood. “You look like you might have some potential, Dalton. But there’s nothing on this resume about broadcast experience. Or baseball. Am I just supposed to shove you out there and let you wing it?”
    As it turned out, she could also dislike her boss. He’d been her boss for about five minutes now, Izzy estimated, and he’d been nastier to her than Charlie had in six years.
    “I guess…” Izzy stuttered. “I do have some experience.” Maybe this wasn’t the best time to bring up her single class in broadcast journalism.
    Toby waved a hand like he wanted her to stop defending herself. Time for that later, Izzy thought, clinging to her last shred of optimism, and changed the subject.
    “Why don’t you tell me about the team?”
    Even that was a disaster, though. “Why don’t you tell me ?” he challenged with a frown. Like he knew that she was not only clueless about broadcasting, but equally clueless about baseball.
    Izzy knew what she wanted to tell him. This team was on the verge of falling apart. Maybe it could be saved, but from what she’d read, the chances were that it would disintegrate sooner rather than later. As she debated how much opinion to give, she started off by stating the facts of the Pioneers’ last season. Facts were safe. Opinions, not so much.
    “By August last year, the Pioneers had a wild-card playoff spot virtually locked up, but a sixteen-game losing streak during the last part of the season guaranteed they’d lose it. It was the ninth year of the Pioneers’ existence and the ninth year without making the playoffs.” That was the extent of what she knew about the Pioneers. No, she corrected herself, that was the extent of what she knew about last year’s baseball season.
    Toby said nothing, but looked unimpressed. Izzy