She was an idiot.
Really. He was worth more than not going to med school. She should have fought for him. She should have stood there in aisle three and told Kelly to back the heck off. She should have been less insecure about their relationship and more confident in his kisses.
But there was this seed of doubt. All her life, Sheila had worked to maintain the status quo—to be the peacemaker, the levelheaded sister, the one who didn’t give her parents high blood pressure. She remembered, in HD Surround Sound, the time Kelly was seven and Sheila was four and Kelly pitched a fit in the grocery store. Not just a fit, but the kind of fit that had Mom in tears. Sheila had seen a great sorrow in her mother’s face that day and vowed never to be a burden to her parents like Kelly was to them.
But that was a child’s perspective on the situation. Perhaps she hadn’t quite grown out of that belief yet. When ambushed by Kelly and Brock in the store, she’d defaulted to what she’d known before. She’d backed away in order to save everyone’s feelings.
And now she was miserable. Miserable and late!
She ran from her office, grateful she’d thought ahead to wear low-heeled shoes. A smile was hard to find and even harder to swipe across her face, but she managed to get it there before she stepped into the sunlight. The check-ins were complete, and it was time to start. She gave the go-ahead to the booth, and the recorded organ music, “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” announced the beginning of the program. Time to tune out her heart and get to work.
The first hour of the audition passed quickly. Sheila had only intended to be in the crowds for a few minutes, but she’d ended up staying in the stands. The atmosphere was electric.
She silently patted herself on the back for turning the microphone over to Juan for the day. They had fewer competitors today than they’d had for the open section of the competition, and she’d worried that the crowd would get bored watching thirty pretty decent tryouts. Juan was anything but boring. In fact, he was charming the stadium with every broad grin and exclamation of astonishment that came out of his mouth. He was truly impressed with each audition and gave the competitors the full treatment. With him, it didn’t come off as a job—he liked being there. Yep, that was one decision she’d take credit for all week long.
Walking away from Brock was a totally different story. She’d been sick to her stomach ever since and had hardly eaten a thing.
Her phone beeped, and she hit the walkie-talkie button. “This is Sheila. Go ahead.”
“There’s some lady crying in the bathroom—she’s making a scene. People are gathering.” Dale, the intern, had great ideas, but he was shy about putting himself out there. The idea of an issue in the women’s restroom probably freaked him out. To his credit, crying females did that to almost all men. They had no idea what to do when the tears flowed free.
Sheila left her perch. She had loads of experience talking Kelly down from a tantrum—this lady should be easy. “Which bathroom?”
“Top of the steps over the home dugout.”
“On my way.” They hadn’t sold as many tickets to this event as they had to the one the week before. That was to be expected. When they had an open audition, the contestants brought in their families and friends to watch. Today, they were floating on people who had become invested in the outcome, those who wanted a say. The top fifth of the stadium was empty; that was all right, because the concession lines were long.
She wove through the press of women waiting to get into the bathroom and shoved the door open with her hip. Pausing for a moment to take in the situation, she let out a moan. “Kelly!”
Her sister’s head whipped in her direction. She left the group of five women who had been patting her on the back and handing her tissues to throw herself into Sheila’s arms.
Sheila patted her back. “What’s the matter?”
Kelly sniffed, leaning back and swiping her fingers under her raccoon eyes. “I thought things were going well, and then bam! He says he’s seeing someone else.”
Sheila ran her tongue over her teeth. “Brock?” What brought this up now? In the stadium?
“Yes, Brock. Who else?” She fisted the tissue, squeezing it like she could strangle the life out of Brock, and then shaking it in front of her. Ladies stepped back to give her room in case she was going to blow.
Sheila glanced around. The line was moving again, but there were a lot of interested eyes on the two of them. “Let’s walk. You’re a better thinker when you’re moving.” And there are fewer people standing and staring on the walkway.
Kelly nodded, allowing herself to be pushed along by Sheila’s arm around her back. “I really liked him.”
“He can be quite the charmer.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen it up close and personal, working with him the way you do.” Kelly scooped her hair off her face. “I just … I really felt like we could be one of those power couples. He has the face and all this fame, and I have the brains. Our children would have been athletic and smart. I just really wanted someone who would add to our gene pool.”
“Wow. You thought this through.”
Kelly sighed.
“Were you guys that compatible?”
“Of course. I mean, he eats red meat, but he can stop. And he drives a truck, but that can be sold.” Kelly frowned. “He didn’t talk much at dinner, so our evenings would be quiet. But you know me—I don’t like a lot of noise at home anyway. The hospital is loud all day long.”
“Right.” Sheila stopped them at the end of the walkway and turned them around to head back. “You’ll find that guy. One who drives a minivan and prefers chicken.”
Kelly gulped. “All the good guys are gone.”
“Naw.” Sheila swatted away her worries. “They’re out there, building their careers and dreaming of a small family and quiet evenings. Probably doing seaweed facials to stay handsome.” Sarcasm was easy to hide with a smile—especially when she was saying exactly what her sister wanted to hear.
“Do you think so?”
“I know so.” There had to be a guy out there for Kelly. Everyone had a match, didn’t they? Sheila leaned her head on Kelly’s shoulder. “I’m sorry he broke your heart.”
Kelly stopped walking and did an internal scan, her eyes moving back and forth as if reading a cardiograph. “He didn’t.”
“But the crying …” And the scene in the bathroom where an intern had to call for backup.
“I’m fine.”
Fine? Fine? Her sister was anything but fine. “Have you looked into bipolar meds?”
Kelly laughed. “I feel things deeply. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s healthy to allow yourself to fall all the way into your feelings, roll around for a while, and then let them go.”
Agree to disagree.
Kelly used her shiny phone case to check her makeup. “Gah! Except I look like the walking dead. Why didn’t you tell me?” She dug in her purse and came up with a makeup wipe, which she used to remove all traces of tears.
“Because you look beautiful.”
Kelly tipped her head. “You’re the best baby sister—ever.”
Guilt flushed through Sheila’s chest.
“Rule number three of dating: never let the man see you cry over him.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder.
“I don’t think you have to worry about that. Brock’s not here today.”
Kelly concentrated on outlining her lips. “I saw him twenty minutes ago. He met Mom and Dad.”
“What?!” Sheila grabbed Kelly’s arms, making her draw a pink line across her cheek. “He’s here?”
“Yeah,” she said as if Sheila were dense. “I don’t think Mom likes him all that much.”
Sheila dropped her arms. “I have to go.” She looked right and then left, her hair slapping across her face. She took off for the nearest door marked Employees Only.
“Love you,” Kelly called behind her.
Sheila lifted a hand in response, her mouth glued shut with d
etermination to avoid Brock. She wasn’t even sure what to say to him. He’d obviously hurt Kelly’s feelings—for about five minutes—but a ladybug could make Kelly cry.
The heavy metal door shut behind her, and she was alone in a stairwell. She could take this up two floors and be in the booth. Or she could walk out there and find Brock. She dithered.
What would she say? She’d like to unsay the words she’d thrown at him in the supermarket. She’d have to, because she’d messed up as badly as a pitcher who couldn’t find the strike zone. The only way to save the play was to make a throw down to first base, and she had no idea how to do that. For heaven’s sake, what did you say to a guy you were falling in love with after sending him packing?
Chapter Twenty
Brock
“And that’s it, folks. Thanks so much. I mean, really, thank you for coming out today and celebrating with us. Let’s give our seven finalists a final round of applause.”
Brock clapped along with those around him as Juan continued to jabber on. Brock had moved to the upper bowl, wanting to steer clear of Kelly and her parents—and hoping to catch sight of Sheila. She’d done a good job of staying behind the scenes. He hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of her white hair and red lips all day. With a heavy sigh, he headed for the exit. Maybe he could finish the railing on his deck this evening.
His steps were slow as he made his way to the players’ parking lot. He kept his head down, his ball hat low. The people milling around were fans, and he wasn’t in the mood to smile for pictures and sign tee shirts.
He was cutting across a walkway, headed towards the employees-only door, when a small body planted itself in front of him. He stepped back to avoid running over the lady, only to find that it was Sheila’s mom.
“Hi,” he blurted.
She put both hands on her hips and glared. “Michael told me everything you said. What right do you have to judge our family situation?”
His neck grew warm. A man bumped into him from behind. “I wasn’t judging. I was sticking up for Sheila.”
“I’m her mother. I will stick up for her.” She pointed to her chest.
Brock folded his arms and lifted an eyebrow in challenge.
Lisa deflated. She pulled his elbow until he went to sit by her in the empty bleachers. The place cleared out fast. The parking lot was probably a mess, but inside, things were calming down. Empty popcorn boxes littered the ground, piles of sunflower seed shells dotted the walkways, and cups lingered in the drink holders.
He put his elbows on his legs and listened, not sure where this conversation would take him but pretty sure he was about to find out Lisa’s agenda. Everybody had one.
Lisa leaned forward, her gaze on the outfield. “I don’t think you’re playing games with my daughters. That puppy-dog sadness in your eyes is enough to convince me that your heart is in this—and it’s not after Kelly. Sooo …”
Brock leaned back, lifted his ball hat, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I think she gave up on me. Besides, she won’t do anything to hurt your family or come between her and Kelly.”
“No. Nope. And no.” She cut her flat hand through the air. “My girl is not a quitter. As long as you’re breathing, you have a chance.”
He chuckled. “Breathing I can do.”
“How about flirting and romancing? Can you do those?”
Brock considered her for a moment. She wasn’t talking to him as a ball player that she wanted to date her daughter. If that was the case, then she wouldn’t care which daughter he chased. What she was doing was looking for Sheila’s happiness. That was her objective—her agenda. Now that he thought about it, Michael had the same one. Sheila’s happiness was an agenda he could get behind, one he could support, even adopt it himself. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been told I have skills in those areas.”
She patted his knee. “I’ll bet you do. You get to work and let me worry about Kelly.”
“Will do.” He stood up and offered her a hand to help her up too.
She let him escort her to the exit, where Michael was waiting at the curb in their black Lincoln. He lifted a hand in greeting.
Brock grinned. He bet they would have an interesting talk on the ride home.
He wished he had someone to talk to. Someone he could hold hands with as they drove home and bounce ideas off of and who would listen to his thoughts without judging.
He’d continue to breathe—drawing air in and out in steady measure. He needed to figure out a way to romance Sheila, to hit a home run and win her heart. He was considered a heavy hitter, for heaven’s sake. He could do this.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sheila
“It’s stunning.”
Sheila nodded. Her fingers pressed over her lips as she stared at the Eagle costume they’d just freed from the box. “I love it. I love it more than you love Diet Coke.”
Ashley hugged herself. “Not possible. But so close.”
Sheila stepped forward and ran her hand down the silky feathers on the arm of the mascot costume. It had arrived this morning, and she and Ashley locked themselves in the conference room to open it. They’d shut all the blinds to keep prying eyes out. This bad boy wasn’t going to be seen until the big reveal on Saturday.
Ashley sat in a chair and pondered the costume.
For Sheila, it represented more than the culmination of their October project—it was her stamp on the Redrocks team. The mascot would be with the Redrocks until the end of time, and she was the one who made it happen. That felt darn good.
The Eagle wore a red Redrocks shirt with the logo emblazoned on the front. The shirt color popped against the white chest feathers and the dark brown body feathers. The back had his name, “Rev,” with double zeros for his number. The Rev-Aide logo was on both his sleeves. They’d gone with the full-sized eagle with wings that spread out and bright yellow talons.
Ashley tapped her pen on the table. “So, have you called him?”
Sheila sat and traced the edge of the wood with her fingertips. “No. I have no idea what to say.” She dropped her head to the table with a soft thunk. “The more I think about what I said, the crazier it sounds. I was a basket case. He’s run hard and fast to get away from me, and I don’t blame him.”
“You don’t know that.”
She lifted her eyes, the middle of her forehead numb from knocking it against the table. It was red and she didn’t even care. She should be marked as a weirdo to warn all men she met in the future that she was emotionally unstable. “I threw him into Kelly’s arms, and he didn’t even want to be there. I assumed he’d want her over me, and I made a fool out of myself.”
“Let’s talk about that.” Ashley took the seat across from her at the table.
“I don’t have time.”
“Bull crap. This is the first time in a month that we’ve had time to sit, and we’re not going to waste it staring at this eagle when there are much bigger issues to tackle. Why did you think he’d want Kelly over you?”
Sheila rolled her eyes. She needed much more psychological help than a conversation with her girlfriend could muster. But maybe finally getting the words out would help her get past the rock that was lodged in her heart. “Kelly is Kelly. She’s beautiful, driven, successful, great with kids.”
“You’re all those things.”
“Yeah, but Kelly had him first.”
“He’s not a candy bar you can call dibs on. He’s a person, and he gets a say.”
Sheila flattened her palm. “He’s a person.”
Ashley nodded slowly. “A person. With feelings and thoughts all his own.”
He’s a person. “So … I may not have taken that into consideration.” She hadn’t. She’d given up everything from dolls to a car to keep her sister from pitching a fit. She should have given Brock some credit for having a brain and asked what he wanted. And she shouldn’t have let the humiliation of being cheated on once ruin her chance with a great guy.
Ashley leaned
across the table, her face serious. “I’m going to say something to you, and I want you to think it over.”
“Okay.”
“You’re happy with Brock. You’re allowed to be happy.”
Sheila drummed her fingers on the table. “I did like kissing him …”
“You bet you did.” Ashley sounded like a cheerleader.
“And he doesn’t want Kelly …” Which made things so much easier. Kelly would move on to the next shiny applicant for her life of quiet and prestige.
“That’s the wrong thinking.”
Sheila’s thoughts screeched to a halt like a driver going fifty in a thirty-five spying a cop car waiting in the bushes.
“You need to be willing to fight for him even if Kelly wants him.”
“Uh, why?”
“Because that’s what a guy wants.”
Sheila wrinkled her brow in confusion. “I thought they wanted sex.”
Ashley giggled. “Yes, but that can wait.” She scooted around in her chair. “I have three brothers, and let me tell you, they want to know they are the king of your castle, your knight, your Iron Man. They don’t want to be the sidekick—they want—”
“Action?”
Ashley pointed at her. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Sheila giggled. “So what do I do? I want this guy, bad.”
It was Ashley’s turn to drum her fingers.
Sheila jumped up and grabbed a dry-erase marker. “What I need is a PR plan.” She quickly wrote the days of the week on the board. “Okay, let’s make it a five-day plan, because I am busy as all get-out this week, and I can’t do a big gesture of any kind if I’m going to save the Redrocks.”
Ashley slapped her hand on the table. “Let’s do an awareness campaign. Make him aware that you’re still interested.”
“That’s good.” She scribbled it on the board, knowing they would erase it before they left the conference room. “But I want to be kissing again by Saturday, so the awareness has to happen fast.” Next to Awareness, she wrote introductory text as step 1.
Heavy Hitter (Dating Mr. Baseball Book 4) Page 13
