Ashley scratched her forehead as she considered the list of ideas they’d compiled. “That’s the problem. We don’t have anything big enough.” She leaned her head on her fist and sighed.
The buzzer that indicated a new customer had come in sounded. Sheila’s gaze dashed to the newcomer and then snagged on him like a nail on a sweater. “Hide me.” She scrambled for something to duck behind, but the table was empty of everything but their pad of paper and two empty plates that once held chocolate waffles with whipped cream, chocolate chips, strawberries, and fudge sauce. The strawberries were there for justification purposes only.
Ashley flipped around—in a completely obvious move—to see who had come in. “Brock!” She lifted a hand and waved.
“What part ofhide medid you miss?” Sheila hissed, leaning over the table to be lower than Ashley.
Ashley’s face clouded with confusion. “I thought you liked him.”
Sheila blanched. She hadn’t been a good best friend and updated Ashley on the Brock situation. “We have got to talk more often.”
Brock arrived at their table, looking so good he could have stood next to the chocolate cake in the display case and women wouldn’t be able to pick between the two. Who was Sheila kidding? They’d pick Brock every time.
Instead of standing to say hello and then leaving, he swung a chair around so he could sit on it backwards and took a seat. “Hello.” He turned his casual beach smile on Sheila. “So this is your date?”
Sheila rolled her eyes. “I never confirmed nor denied the nature of this meeting.”
She may have let him believe she was seeing someone. Wait! Was that why he’d come in, to spy on her? That was … weird. It was weird, right? For a guy to come check out the competition—even if it turned out there wasn’t any. Sheila’s hands took flight, touching her cup, picking up her fork and putting it back down, twitching.For the love!She sat on them. But that only made her aware of the heavy pounding of her heart. She prayed Brock couldn’t hear it.
Ashley twisted her lips. “I just broke up with my boyfriend, so …”
Brock laughed. “Good to know. So what’s the big meeting about?” He reached out a large hand and pulled their notepad over to him as if he had a right to be a part of their discussion. His assumption that they’d want him there rankled. She tried to grab it back, but he held on, his eyes scanning their chicken-scratched brainstorming session. “Field day. Aging well conference. Keynote speaker? What is this?”
Sheila managed to rip the notebook away from his grasp. Dang, he was strong. She scowled. “None of your business.” Harper wouldn’t like it if the players knew about the giant loan that was due. The off-season was hot for trades and signing new players. If the guys thought they were on a sinking ship, they might bail. She hadn’t even mentioned it to Ashley, figuring it was need-to-know information.
She wasn’t sure how Brock could take her from heart palpitations to level-seven annoyed so quickly, but he could do it with ease.
Ashley cleared her throat. “We’re trying to come up with a series of fall events for the stadium.”
Sheila kicked her under the table. Ashley jumped and glared, her look saying,I didn’t tell him anything important.
“What about a concert?” Brock asked.
Thankfully, he ignored their antics and acted like they were all adults—which Sheila didn’t feel like at the moment. She felt like the nerdy girl in the lunch room, hoping some guy didn’t walk by and steal her chocolate milk. She’d hated junior high.
“Great, but what kind of music?” asked Ashley.
“A big name,” Brock replied.
Sheila shook her head. “All the big names have big price tags. We don’t have that kind of money to throw at this event. Not to mention they’re already booked on tours.”
Brock sank over the back of the seat as she effectively stomped all over his idea.
“But it was a good thought. I’ll make a note to start booking for next year.” Hopefully they wouldn’t be in this position next year. However, if things went well, Harper would want to do it again. Money was hard to turn down.
Brock drummed his fingers on the table. Sheila found herself starting at them. He had square fingertips. His nail beds were curved, but the finger ended in a nice rounded square. She’d bet they felt heavenly massaging a scalp or a tight neck. She tipped her head from side to side, needing to loosen the muscles that were suddenly crying out for Brock’s touch. Stupid disloyal muscles.
“Maybe we could get a cover band?” Ashley offered.
“Would you pay to see a cover band?” Sheila countered.
“Not really.” They both leaned over and rested their cheeks on their fists.
Ashley sat up. “We could do a talent show. St. George has talent. I’d pay five bucks to see that.”
“Me too,” added Brock.
Sheila sighed. “It’s been done.” They looked at her. “In the spring. The turnout was great.” She sighed again. “We need something fresh …” A talent show was good. “I like the idea of an exhibition of some sort … a competition.” She rolled the vague idea around in her mind, hoping it would catch on to something specific.
