He winked. “5353.”
“Your jersey number? I’m so changing that.” Her thumbs flew as she opened her phone. Once it worked, she pulled the door handle up and slid out. “I have to go. There’s still so much to do.”
He nodded. She had Post-it Notes over Post-it Notes in a small leather planner in her purse. He wasn’t here to distract her; that could be a problem for all of them. She was important to the organization, and this project was important to her. He didn’t want to get in the way of that. “I know. Let me know if I can help.”
She nodded and wiggled her phone. “I’m still changing the code.”
He lifted a shoulder. The moment the door shut, he sent her a text. No, you won’t.
He knew the second she read it, because her shoulders drew back and she brought the phone up to her nose. Her reply came through with lightning speed. Wouldn’t you like to know if I did or didn’t, Swim Trunks?
He laughed out loud. Yeah. They should do more of this—have more fun together. And then, they should explore other ways to have fun. Ways that involved her thick red lips.
Ricky climbed in the seat Sheila had vacated. “You suck at driving lessons.”
Brock laughed, feeling lighter than he had the night he hit three home runs in LA.
Chapter Nine
Sheila
Sheila floated into the offices, her heart all aflutter because of Brock. He was funny and sweet and determined. She had made up her mind to never date him, never flirt with him, never explore the attraction that surfaced whenever he was near. But he’d made her laugh. He’d taken what was otherwise a stressful day and turned it into one of the best days she’d had on the job. And she loved her job, so that was saying something.
Why didn’t more guys get it? Romance was amazing, but a guy who made you laugh? That was the guy you want to be with. That was the guy that made you want to rush all day so you have time to freshen your makeup before a date. That was the guy you want to kiss. The guy you could fudge a story to your sister over.
Because Sheila was going to have to fudge things with Kelly. Well, maybe not for one date. Heck, she could go out with Brock, and he could decide that she was average. Oooh, Kelly would burn up if she knew he’d called her average.
She heard sniffling coming from the conference room and slowed her steps, straining her ears for some clue as to who was in there.
“Sorry. I’m just discouraged.” Harper’s voice came through the cracked door.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Coach Wolfe answered.
Sheila shifted her weight from foot to foot. Should she walk past like she hadn’t heard anything? She should, but she couldn’t. Harper was discouraged enough about the team to shed tears—that was a big deal. Did this have something to do with the loan? How bad were things?
“Do you want to quit?”
Sheila threw her hands over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Quit? As in quit the team? That was … inconceivable. Harper wasn’t only the owner; she was the heart. She had brought on Coach Wolfe—a gamble for sure, but one that had paid off as he’d brought the guys together. Between Harper in the front office and her husband in the locker room, the Redrocks had blossomed. There was so much hope for next season, everyone felt like they were on the verge of a breakout. Next year, they were going to compete at a higher level. They’d drop the “worst team in the league” label and take the season by storm.
“I don’t know,” Harper replied. “I’m … struggling.”
“Let’s sleep on it, okay?”
The sound of a soft kiss snapped Sheila out of her eavesdropping. She took several quiet steps back, lifted her head, and charged towards her office, not sparing the conference room door a second look. She hadn’t known things were this bad, that Harper was feeling so much pressure. She had to help. This mascot audition/talent competition had to work. She needed to get to Julia and go over the social media blitz they’d planned. Maybe they could work in a few more posts. Maybe some of their regular-season sponsors would post too. The Redrocks needed her full attention, and no matter how handsome Brock was with his tan skin and his goofball sense of humor, she needed to focus on her job if she was going to give the team a shot at that breakout season.
Chapter Ten
Sheila
Sheila whipped the flat iron away from her face, twisted it just so, and let her hair slide slowly through the heat to make a beautiful curl. She grinned as it fell into place. Brock would be here in fifteen minutes, and her heart pounded a haphazard beat of anticipation.
Her eyes fell on the dozen red roses in a red glass vase, and she smiled. They were romantic—some might even think they were cliché. But they were also Redrocks red, her favorite color, which she’d revealed to Brock in a text the day before. The fact that he’d remembered and then done something about it was chocolate sauce.
If she were going to send him something, it would be a bouquet of tape measures. He spent every waking minute working on his off-season project. Well, every minute he wasn’t texting her. She didn’t mind the distractions at all, and since he included pictures of each stage in the process, she felt like she was right there with him, smelling the sawdust and pulling out splinters.
Her phone rang and she jumped to answer it in case it was Brock. Her house wasn’t hard to find, but the street sign had been knocked down a couple weeks ago and still lay on the grass, waiting for the city to get around to putting it back up.
It wasn’t Brock’s number on the screen. Her heart rate slowed down considerably as she contemplated not answering Kelly. If she didn’t answer, Kelly would just call back every five minutes until she did. She groaned. Better to answer now so she didn’t have to explain when Brock was nearby.
“Hey.” She put the call on speaker and set it on the dresser while she fished through her jewelry box for a pair of earrings to go with her casual outfit. Brock had said to dress as if she were going out to recess. Since she’d been the kickball champion of the fourth grade, she opted for skinny jeans, a Redrocks fitted tee, and a hoodie slung over her arm in case it got chilly when the sun went down. “How’s it going?”
“Great. What are you doing tonight?”
“Um … I have a date.” She slid a ring onto her finger. It was a fat silver band that wouldn’t catch on clothing.
“Oh.” Disappointment dripped through the line. “Well, how much do you like this guy? Because Brittany, Jay, and I have an extra ticket to Le Rêve, that water and acrobatic show in Vegas. Do you remember we talked about it a while back?”
Sheila bit her cheek. She remembered, all right. She remembered that she’d told her parents how much she wanted to see the show and that it was sold out for some time. Kelly had turned her nose up and said the reviews were less than impressive.
She pressed the bridge of her nose. This was typical Kelly. Scorn something Sheila likes, but if her friends were interested, then it became fascinating. “I’m going to have to pass.”
“Well, at least sound disappointed about it.”
“Sorry. I’m distracted trying to find my running shoes.” She headed for the closet, carrying her phone in one hand. Avoidance was the best peacekeeper. The sooner she got out of this conversation, the better. “I hope you have a good time. Let me know what you think.”
Kelly didn’t answer right away. “You’re wearing running shoes?”
“Yeah?”
“Who is this guy? He’s not an intern, is he?”
Sheila involuntarily scrunched up her face. The interns were young—much too young for her. “He makes a decent living and he’s taking me to dinner.”
Again, avoidance. If Kelly thought Sheila was going after her guy to steal him away, she’d double down her efforts to win Brock over—or back. If she got offended, then there would be rivers of tears and darts of accusations. Their parents would be involved, and Sheila would be painted as the bad guy. Which she could kind of see, because she was going out with a man who had recently gone out with her si
ster. It wasn’t even like she didn’t know Brock and Kelly had dated. Ignorance wouldn’t be a viable defense in this case.
“Wow. Score one for you,” Kelly said in her best older-sister voice.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t exactly been picky about who you date.”
“I haven’t?” Sheila thought back to her last two boyfriends—the ones who’d actually met her family, anyway. They were both good, solid contributors to society. One had been a computer guy, doing something techie for car dealerships. The other was a human relations specialist.
“I keep telling you, you need to come to the hospital’s dinners with me. That’s where you’ll meet someone worth your time.”
“Ah.” Someone worth her time equaled doctor. Sheila shook her head. Kelly was so caught up in the prestige of what she did. She wanted the world to see her as Dr. Weaver, and keeping that persona was important. “So since I didn’t become a doctor, the next best thing would be to marry one?”
“Exactly.”
“Hmm.” Debating the pros and cons of marrying someone in the medical field could take up half her evening, and she’d rather have some fun with Brock. “It’s an interesting thought, and I’ll give it some attention. Have a good time tonight.”
“Who are—”
“Gotta go. My date’s here. Love you. Bye.” She hung up and let out a giant puff of air. Just as she snagged her shoes from the back of the closet, the doorbell rang. Her heart squealed with excitement, and she dashed to answer the door.
“Hey,” she said, all breathy-like as she took in Brock in his dark jeans and navy tee shirt stretching across his impressive chest. The dark blue shirt made his eyes absolutely pop. His hair was perfectly disheveled, and she was itching to run her fingers through it. Maybe tonight …
A slow, sultry smile spread across Brock’s face. “Hey, yourself.” He glanced over her, his eyes coming right back to her red lips. She’d carefully applied the liner, lipstick, and gloss in hopes that he’d notice. By the gleam in his eye, he noticed.
She stepped back. “Give me just a second …” Holding on to the door for balance, she slipped her shoes on, tied them, and then picked her purse off the small table by the door. “Thanks.”
“You look more like a player tonight than I do.” He motioned to the Redrocks hoodie over her arm.
She flushed. “What can I say? I like red.” She immediately remembered the roses. “Thank you so much for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
He opened the passenger door to his truck for her, which smelled like new. Had he had it detailed for their date? The thin vacuum lines on the passenger seat confirmed her suspicion. How sweet was that?
“You’re beautiful.” He winked and offered her a hand to help her up. When their skin touched, warmth shot up her arm, like a thousand fireflies blinking on at the same time. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze before shutting the door and heading around to his side of the truck.
Sheila took the moment to breathe deeply. On the surface, Brock was the perfect gentleman. Handsome. Sweet. Totally hot! Her heart took a protective step back, as if reminding her that they’d been here before. She tended to fall hard and fast. It wasn’t her fault, really; she had what Dad called a tender heart.
Once he settled behind the wheel, she asked, “Are we really going to recess?”
He chuckled, the sound deep and inviting. “Yep. I told you we’d have fun.”
She giggled. “Okay, then. I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store.”
He steered them onto I-15, and they headed south. “Um, are we going to Vegas?” She glanced down at her outfit.
“Yeah, I made reservations.”
“Are we going to a show?” She silently prayed they weren’t headed for the same show Kelly would be at. That could be so, so bad in so many ways. Her sister didn’t have any qualms about throwing a fit in private or in public. Besides humiliating her and Brock, it would reflect badly on the team. With the precarious situation the Redrocks were in at the moment, bad press might send Harper Wolfe over the edge.
“Is there one you want to see? I had something else in mind.”
She relaxed into the seat. “I’m good with something else.”
“Great.” He reached over and took her hand, stealing her breath away just like that. She glanced down at where their hands rested on the seat. They fit together just right.
“What are you thinking?” he asked. “You have a funny look on your face.”
She closed her eyes tight, tight, tight. “It’s so cheesy.”
“I’m all over cheesy,” he encouraged her.
She laughed. He asked for it. “I was just thinking that I feel like Goldilocks.”
He glanced at her as he negotiated the road. “Goldilocks?”
“Yeah. I’ve held hands with a lot of guys before.”
One of his eyebrows went up.
“Okay, not a lot, a lot. But my fair share.”
He nodded.
“And they always feel too big, too hot, too cold, too clammy.” She wiggled her fingers. “But this hand feels just right.”
He grinned. “You’re right. That’s really cheesy.”
She laughed. “I know.”
“But I like it.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles and then brought the back of her hand to his lips. The air sizzled between them.
“I like it too,” she said.
They exchanged a smile, and then she had to change the subject. Otherwise she was going to do something embarrassing like slide into the center seat and plaster herself to his side. “So, how old were you when you started playing ball?”
He rolled his eyes. “My first word was ball. My mom was so disappointed because I said ball instead of mom.”
She giggled. “I’ll bet.”
Brock went on to tell her about the journey that brought him to the Redrocks. By the time they hit Vegas, Sheila was able to forget about Kelly and her worries over what might happen and just have … fun.
Chapter Eleven
Sheila
Monday morning, Sheila breezed into the office, feeling rejuvenated and content. Her evening with Brock was … sigh … perfect. In her mind, she was standing on the giant chessboard as Brock stood across from her, shaking his head and making his hair fall over his forehead. She was about to steal his queen, a bold move for a first-timer.
He’d taken her to a place in Vegas that was an adult-sized playground with giant Jenga, chess, checkers, and more. They also had a trampoline room, a dance floor, greasy pizza and burgers, an arcade, and an outdoor roller rink.
Her head may have been on the playground, but the rest of her rode the elevator up to her floor and headed for her office, where a mound of work waited.
“Someone’s glowing.” Ashley dropped her purse onto her desk and took a sip from her refill cup. She always stopped on her way into work and filled a 32-ounce mug with diet soda. She’d nurse it until lunch, when she’d go for another one. On busy days, Sheila envied Ashley’s level of emergency preparedness.
Sheila dragged herself out of the daydreams and set her brain in work. “The votes should be tallied today. By ten, we’ll know what our new mascot is.”
They both turned to the huge clock Sheila had hung on the wall. It was a rectangle made from distressed wood and had an antique set of hands. She’d thought it would bring personality to their shared space. Right now, the hands rested firmly at nine o’clock.
“Ugh. I’ll never be able to wait the hour. Everything on my to-do lists hinges on the results.”
Sheila nodded. Her list was the same. She’d woken up bright and early and taken the time to curl her hair again. She liked the sassy feel of it. So had Brock. He’d touched it more than once on their date, and then the next day when they’d gone on a hike together. He said Brayden Birks had recommended the trail to the falls. The views were gorgeous. Mostly, she remembered holding on to Brock’s hand and sometimes his arm as the
y meandered along, sharing stories and getting to know one another.
“Morning,” chirped Julia as she poked her head inside the room. “Are the graphics ready?”
Sheila shook her head. They had teaser graphics coming to spread the word about the competition and the impending vote, but not the finals. “We’re still waiting.”
“Keep me posted.”
Julia disappeared from view, but they could hear her getting settled into her desk just outside the door. The interns also had space out there, though theirs was less permanent with a few folding tables and rolling chairs. The marketing department’s offices were set up like a horseshoe around the common area. Ashley’s desk was out there for a while, but she and Sheila collaborated so much that it made sense to move her into Sheila’s office. They’d left Julia out there because she had a tendency to snoop.
“Speaking about keeping posted …” Sheila went to the door and shut it almost all the way so their conversation would be more private, since the department had an open-door policy. Unless you were on a call with a client, you were accessible to any member of the team.
Ashley’s eyes brightened with interest.
“We’re under more pressure than I originally thought to make this thing work.” She went on to relate what she’d heard in the conference room between Harper and Coach Wolfe.
“She’s selling the team?” Ashley blurted out.
“Shh.” Sheila patted her hand through the air. Even with the door mostly shut, they had to talk in quiet voices. “I don’t know that.”
“But she said she wanted to quit?”
“She’s thinking about it.”
“I can’t imagine this place without her. I mean, I know she’s only been here a season, but she’s done so much good.”
Sheila stared at the framed picture of the field on her wall. She’d taken the image on her first day of work and had it blown up to hang behind her desk. The grass was bright green against the red cliff that served as the out-of-bounds marker for right field. To her, it was simply beautiful—a combination of nature and history. No other sport had its roots sunk so deeply in American soil. “What’s going to happen to the players if she sells? Or worse, closes down? Where would they go?” Brock would do everything he could to find a place on another team. Which would mean a different city, one far away. She squirmed, not liking the thought of him leaving at all.
Heavy Hitter (Dating Mr. Baseball Book 4) Page 7