“And I am not playing for a team that has a wussy mascot.”
“Oh really?” Sheila challenged.
“Really.”
Game on. “What about the St. George elephants? They’re a desert animal and some have tusks.”
“Would ours have tusks?” he asked.
She eyed him thoughtfully. “Probably not.”
“Then no.” His firm stance and the slightly defensive jut of his chin said Sheila was pushing his buttons. She liked it. She exchanged a conspiratorial look with her bestie.
Ashley looked back down at her phone. “A mongoose. They’re native to the area.”
“No.”
“I know. I know.” Sheila flapped her hands in excitement. “A puffin. They are so cute!” She flashed her screen to Ashley, who ooohed, and then to Brock.
“No.”
“Puffin hater,” Sheila muttered as she searched for another animal that would get under his skin.
“Zebra!” Ashley exclaimed.
“No.” Brock started to sound annoyed.
“A llama?” asked Sheila.
“Nuh-uh.”
“A tortoise?”
“We do not want to label ourselves the slowest team in the league.” Brock ran a hand through his expertly tousled waves. “It’s like you guys have no idea how it feels to wear a jersey.”
Sheila stuck out her tongue. She was having a great time. Brock shot down a vulture, a spider, and a cockatoo, and the girls both shut down his idea of a rattlesnake—because what woman wanted to wear a snake on her chest? Unless it was cute. But Brock nixed cute. So they agreed on an eagle, a bobcat, and a lion. She’d have to run all this past David and maybe Harper, but it was at least a plan.
“There are a thousand things to do, the first of which is getting to the office and putting together a slideshow.” Sheila and Ashley began gathering the papers they’d written on and ripped off the pad, scattering ideas like fall leaves.
Brock got to his feet and slung the chair around in one fluid motion. “I think I’ll get some food.”
Sheila didn’t look up. She could already imagine how broad his shoulders looked from her vantage point. “Thanks for your help.”
“I’m excited about this.”
Her head whipped up. “You are?”
“Yeah, we’re making history here. Someday the kids who vote at their schools will tell their grandkids they helped pick our mascot.” He grinned. “I get to tell mine that without me, it would have been the St. George Blobfish.”
Sheila melted into her seat. She’d never heard a guy talk about his future grandkids before. The words created a pudding-like sensation in her knees, and she was grateful she was sitting down. “You want grandkids?”
“Kids first.” He winked.
Flustered, she dropped her pen. It clattered to the floor, the sound much louder in her ears than it should have been. That whole block out the rest of the world illness she developed when Brock was around did funny things to her senses.
Brock went down on one knee, retrieved it, and held it out to her. If she’d thought her heart had palpitations before, the sight of him on one knee was enough to send her into cardiac arrest. Her hands itched to bracket his bronzed face and smother him with kisses while they debated names for their children. It would go much like their conversation today, where she threw out Sebastian and Joel and Oswald just to get under his skin, and he’d counter with Jagger and Phoenix and Austin. They’d argue for a bit, finally settling on Nicholas after his grandfather, and then they’d end with a major make-out session that left them both gasping for breath.
Wow. Just wow.
When she didn’t reach for the pen, Brock took her hand and placed it inside.
“Thank you,” she managed to whisper.
“Anytime.” His voice was deeper, husky, like he too felt the connection sizzling between them. He mumbled a goodbye and left.
Ashley watched him go and then spun on Sheila. “What was that?”
Sheila giggled. “I don’t know.”
“He was going to eat, but then he just wandered out like he had no idea where he was going. I think you threw him for a loop.” She shoved papers into her purse. “You two have some definite chemistry going on.”
Sheila followed Ashley’s lead in cleaning off the table. The longer Brock was gone, the clearer her head. “It doesn’t matter what type of chemistry we have.”
“Aha! So you admit there’s chemistry.”
“Sure.”
“Ha!”
“Like I was saying. It doesn’t matter. He’s going out with Kelly, probably tonight. I’m bound by the sister code not to pursue any interest I may or may not have in a certain heavy hitter.” But that didn’t stop her from reliving the last few minutes over and over throughout the day. Brock had shown another side of himself—and she liked it. Liked it more than was good for her.
Chapter Six
Brock
Brock glanced down at his arm as Kelly slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. They’d had a nice dinner in the small historical district. Actually, he wasn’t sure if it was classified as historical or just built to look like a pioneer square. Sheila would know.
He mentally groaned. That was the hundredth time he’d thought of her in the last three hours. Which didn’t bode well for things with Kelly. Kelly had grown up in this area; she would know if the brick was original to the pioneer settlers or just made to look old. The trouble was, he didn’t really want to talk to Kelly about brick—he’d rather discuss it with Sheila.
He was trying to be a gentleman and focus on his date, but he kept going back to the planning meeting at the bakery. He was pretty sure the girls had baited him with the whole tree for a mascot thing—and he’d fallen for it—which he kind of liked.
Kelly was talking about something, and he tuned in, once again scolding himself for not paying attention to his date.
“I’ve always had this drive to succeed, to push myself, and in turn, to push medicine.” She turned the full force of her blue eyes on him … and nothing happened. Not a leap of his heart, not a flutter in his chest, not even a spark of interest. He got nothing. “You understand that, right? Because you play ball. You had to push yourself all the time in order to make it to the big leagues.”
“Yep.”
“So we’re kind of the same.” She snuggled up to his arm as they walked around the splash pool. The night was pleasantly warm, and the sound of water running over the strategically placed rocks soothed his troubled mind. Kelly, with her smiles and chipper attitude, thought the night was going better than he did. She continued to pull him tighter to her side, her arm like a vice, cutting off his circulation. “Oh, look, an old-fashioned merry-go-round.”
“Let’s ride.” Brock used the excuse that he needed to get his wallet out to shake her off. There wasn’t a line, so he purchased the tickets quickly. “Julia would get a kick out of taking pictures with this thing. I’ll have to mention it to Sheila—see if they want to have an autograph party down here or something.” Brock bit his tongue. Yes, Sheila and Julia were the only two people he and Kelly had in common, but that was the third time he’d brought up Sheila. If Kelly noticed, she did a good job of hiding it.
The same attendant who sold the tickets went around to let them in. “Have a nice ride.”
“Thanks.” Kelly winked at him over her shoulder.
Instead of going to the double-seater, Brock climbed on a black stallion. He was so big, and the horse so small, that his feet could touch the ground. It would be a miracle if the horse was able to move up and down with him on it.
Kelly perched sidesaddle on the pink horse next to his. It was the same color as her tight pants. Her knees brushed his thigh. “What were we talking about? Oh, our competitive drive. Some people have it, and some don’t.”
She lifted a bare shoulder. She wore a peek-a-boo blouse that flowed beautifully, and her hair was down in big curls. She was wearing more makeup than
she had the other day too. If Brock was hanging out with a friend, he’d be having a great time, but the feeling that Kelly thought she had found more than that wouldn’t let him relax.
“Sheila doesn’t have that drive.”
“What?” The merry-go-round lurched into motion, and Brock grabbed on to the pole to keep from falling off the back end of his horse.
“Sheila. She doesn’t have the drive. You know she scored higher than I did on the MCATs? She was supposed to follow me into med school, but she backed out because she couldn’t stand the competition.”
He snorted. That was unlikely. “Sheila isn’t one to back down.”
“She did.”
“Maybe it was the following part she didn’t like.” He leaned over to make his point. “People like us aren’t good followers. We’re leaders.”
Kelly sniffed delicately. “Then she should have shown me up and taken the lead. If I can’t hold up against the competition, I want to know.” She glanced down at where her hands rested on the saddle. “I always thought she was smarter than me. It was hard growing up with her always nipping at my heels.”
Brock cleared his throat. “Well, you both turned out all right.”
Kelly giggled. “I guess.”
Brock caught a note of derision in her simple statement. He wasn’t going to poke the hornets’ nest and ask what she thought was wrong with Sheila’s career choice. He was, however, not going out with Kelly again. She wasn’t a bad person; she just wasn’t his person. The sooner they got back to their cars, the better.
Then, he’d find a way to help out with the mascot competition, because the time he’d spent at the bakery had been more enjoyable than this date. And spending more time with Sheila was a perk he could get used to.
Chapter Seven
Sheila
“Well done, Sheila.”
Sheila grinned as she shook hands with David. “Thank you. And thanks for clarification on the budget.”
They had enough money that she could do this right—which was a relief. She’d bring the events together on a tighter budget than allotted, and coming in under budget was fine—except that people began to think you could always make that happen, and she preferred to have some wiggle room.
David and the others from his department left the conference room, their heads together as they worked out what needed to be done on their own projects. She was glad they were here, though, so that they were all on the same page when it came to long-term marketing. Working a mascot into merchandise for the next year had sparked some enthusiasm. Designing hats alone would take them weeks.
Ashley rushed out too. There were several things that needed to be done before the end of the day, and that was coming up fast.
Harper waited until the room cleared and it was just the two of them. Her skin looked sallow under the too-bright room lights. “This was kind of brilliant. I’ve been thinking we should have a mascot, but nothing ever seems right. I love the idea of letting the city choose. It will help them feel as if the mascot really is theirs.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
“Your timeline is tight. You’ll be putting in some extra hours.”
“I know. But it will be worth it.”
“Well, keep track. Ashley too. We’ll get you some comp time around the holidays.”
“That’s more than I could ask for.”
Harper laughed. “You didn’t ask; I offered. So take it and don’t argue.”
She spread her cheeks wide. “Yes, ma’am.” Harper said goodbye, and Sheila went about the task of unhooking her computer.
“Oh, hey, Brock,” Harper said.
Sheila’s eyes snapped to the broad shoulders filling the doorway. Her breath caught, and for a moment, the only person in the world was him. But then reality crashed down as she remembered that he’d gone out with Kelly the night before. With a sad shake of her head, she went back to organizing her notes. There were sticky notes everywhere, and the pages wouldn’t line up nicely.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Harper asked just outside the door.
“Actually, I’m here for Sheila.”
“Oh?” That one little word held way too much interest from her matchmaking boss.
Sheila knew all too well what lengths Harper would go to in order to bring a couple together, having been in on her latest scheme. She wasn’t about to give the woman any ideas.
“Brock, it’s good to see you,” Sheila said in her most professional voice. “What can I help you with?”
Harper excused herself, but not before she passed a knowing look to Sheila. Sheila shook it off, hoping Harper got the message.
Brock glanced around the room. She had an image of the electronic ballot on the whiteboard. They’d had to go digital for the voting because of the time constraints. That made it more difficult for the elementary schools to participate, but she’d composed a letter of explanation to deliver. The schools could copy it and distribute it to their teachers, who would, in turn, help the children vote on their in-class Chromebooks.
“I was dying to know what they said.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the executives who had filed out. Lines appeared in his forehead, and her fingers wiggled, wanting to smooth them away. “It was all I could do not to stick my head in here and tell them to just go for it.”
Sheila grinned. “The project is a go. I have a budget and a plan.” A reminder beeped on her phone. “What I don’t have is time.”
“Oh, then I guess I’d better buy you dinner.” Brock’s left cheek lifted in that sultry surfer grin that made her chest warm. He could conjure up all sorts of sultry scenes with that troublemaker smile. Her favorite, as of late, was slow dancing in the surf.
“I—can’t.” Which was so true. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, because a part of her really, really wanted to explore the sizzle that happened every time he touched her. But she couldn’t date him.
“Because you have to work late?” He filled in an excuse for her. And it would have been a great excuse if there wasn’t a more permanent reason to not to fall into his delicious sky-blue eyes for all of eternity.
She huffed, finding the courage to be honest. There was no reason to play games with him. “Because you’re dating my sister.”
The forehead lines deepened. “Dated, not dating.”
“‘Might date again’ is the same as dating.”
“Then there’s not a problem.”
She considered him, her hand on her hip. “Why? What’s wrong with my sister?”
He reared back. “N-nothing.”
“Then why aren’t you going out with her again?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Because she’s not you.”
“Oh, heck no.” She threw her hands up toward him—and threw off any bad juju that came with that statement. “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.” There was no way she was going to go near Kelly’s territory. She loved her sister, but the woman’s bite was far worse than her bark.
He ran his hand through his hair again and again. The movement was completely distracting, considering the way his hair waved back into place, all perfect and silky-looking. Seriously, did the guy use any product, or had the gods touched their finger to his head and called it styled?
“Okay, how about just because I want to spend time with you?” he offered.
Her phone dinged another reminder. “Time is what I don’t have right now.”
“I can see that.” His blue eyes sparked. “What you need is an assistant.”
Her stomach flipped. “I have one.” Theoretically, Sheila was not opposed to an increase in Brock exposure. There were just so many possible things that could go wrong if she stepped into that particular ray of sunshine. One of the biggest was that her alligator sister would snap. She loved Kelly. Kelly was the only sibling she had. And while they may not have the same goals in life, Sheila had long ago come to the understanding that they could still be sis
ters.
But if she messed with a guy Kelly had her eye on, if she “stole” him … although how you could steal a person was ridiculous. The person had a choice in the matter. But still. Kelly wouldn’t see it in that light. The fact that Brock had gone out with Kelly first, and decided he didn’t like her that way, was not Sheila’s fault. She’d done nothing—nothing—to entice him her way.
At least, nothing on purpose.
He stepped closer, bringing that manly smell with him and breaking down Sheila’s defenses. Oh heck, she could always claim they were doing work-related tasks. “I guess I could use some help,” she hedged. “With the project.”
“What time and where?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve already filled your contractual quota of volunteer hours. I can’t pay you for this.”
“This is about doing something for the team. In fact, I’ll bring a couple more guys so we can split up the work.”
She grinned. That was about the most perfect thing he could have said. She loved the Redrocks, and she loved volunteers. “Okay, tomorrow, eight a.m., in the lobby. We’ll start the rounds.”
“I’ll bring the doughnuts.” He wrapped his knuckles on the table, his devil-may-care grin stealing the air right out of her lungs. “Bye.”
“Bye,” she wheezed out. She watched him walk away, admiring the way his jeans fit. There were jeans, and then there were jeans on Brock. The difference was like splashing in a kiddie pool or diving into an Olympic-sized facility. The Olympic version was a whole-body experience.
She was headed to the deep end with this guy, and she’d have to play it safe.
There was no way she could spend a whole day with him and not do something embarrassing—like run her hand over his abs or pass out because she sniffed him too often. Tomorrow was going to be a test of her Brock-endurance levels. A sweet little shoulder angel gave her a pat and told her she could do this. The snarky little devil told her to throw herself into the water and let him save her.
Heavy Hitter (Dating Mr. Baseball Book 4) Page 5
