One of his eyebrows went up.
“Okay, nota lot, a lot. But my fair share.”
He nodded.
“And they always feel too big, too hot, too cold, too clammy.” She wiggled her fingers. “But this hand feels just right.”
He grinned. “You’re right. That’s really cheesy.”
She laughed. “I know.”
“But I like it.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles and then brought the back of her hand to his lips. The air sizzled between them.
“I like it too,” she said.
They exchanged a smile, and then she had to change the subject. Otherwise she was going to do something embarrassing like slide into the center seat and plaster herself to his side. “So, how old were you when you started playing ball?”
He rolled his eyes. “My first word was ball. My mom was so disappointed because I said ball instead of mom.”
She giggled. “I’ll bet.”
Brock went on to tell her about the journey that brought him to the Redrocks. By the time they hit Vegas, Sheila was able to forget about Kelly and her worries over what might happen and just have … fun.
Chapter Eleven
Sheila
Monday morning, Sheila breezed into the office, feeling rejuvenated and content. Her evening with Brock was … sigh … perfect. In her mind, she was standing on the giant chessboard as Brock stood across from her, shaking his head and making his hair fall over his forehead. She was about to steal his queen, a bold move for a first-timer.
He’d taken her to a place in Vegas that was an adult-sized playground with giant Jenga, chess, checkers, and more. They also had a trampoline room, a dance floor, greasy pizza and burgers, an arcade, and an outdoor roller rink.
Her head may have been on the playground, but the rest of her rode the elevator up to her floor and headed for her office, where a mound of work waited.
“Someone’s glowing.” Ashley dropped her purse onto her desk and took a sip from her refill cup. She always stopped on her way into work and filled a 32-ounce mug with diet soda. She’d nurse it until lunch, when she’d go for another one. On busy days, Sheila envied Ashley’s level of emergency preparedness.
Sheila dragged herself out of the daydreams and set her brain in work. “The votes should be tallied today. By ten, we’ll know what our new mascot is.”
They both turned to the huge clock Sheila had hung on the wall. It was a rectangle made from distressed wood and had an antique set of hands. She’d thought it would bring personality to their shared space. Right now, the hands rested firmly at nine o’clock.
“Ugh. I’ll never be able to wait the hour. Everything on my to-do lists hinges on the results.”
Sheila nodded. Her list was the same. She’d woken up bright and early and taken the time to curl her hair again. She liked the sassy feel of it. So had Brock. He’d touched it more than once on their date, and then the next day when they’d gone on a hike together. He said Brayden Birks had recommended the trail to the falls. The views were gorgeous. Mostly, she remembered holding on to Brock’s hand and sometimes his arm as they meandered along, sharing stories and getting to know one another.
“Morning,” chirped Julia as she poked her head inside the room. “Are the graphics ready?”
Sheila shook her head. They had teaser graphics coming to spread the word about the competition and the impending vote, but not the finals. “We’re still waiting.”
“Keep me posted.”
Julia disappeared from view, but they could hear her getting settled into her desk just outside the door. The interns also had space out there, though theirs was less permanent with a few folding tables and rolling chairs. The marketing department’s offices were set up like a horseshoe around the common area. Ashley’s desk was out there for a while, but she and Sheila collaborated so much that it made sense to move her into Sheila’s office. They’d left Julia out there because she had a tendency to snoop.
“Speaking about keeping posted …” Sheila went to the door and shut it almost all the way so their conversation would be more private, since the department had an open-door policy. Unless you were on a call with a client, you were accessible to any member of the team.
Ashley’s eyes brightened with interest.
“We’re under more pressure than I originally thought to make this thing work.” She went on to relate what she’d heard in the conference room between Harper and Coach Wolfe.
“She’s selling the team?” Ashley blurted out.
