“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 sister. 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.”
