“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 wholeblock out the rest of the worldillness 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.”
