He refused to be another item on her worry list, a list that was probably growing by the minute. “I’m great.” He would walk onto that field as if it was just another game day, and he’d play the game with as much positive energy as ever, because he was suddenly motivated to make this the best mascot audition ever.
“Okay, let’s …” She bit her lip. “… keep it professional today, okay?” Her hands were down by her side, her chin tucked back.
Brock was reading her as easily as a pitcher with tells. She was sayinghands off. “O-kay.”
She smiled and then was gone, her phone at her ear.
Brock stared after her, wondering what he’d done to earn the brush-off. They’d had fun. He always believed that the way to a woman’s heart was through laughter. You could turn on the romance on a first date and you’d fall flat, but if you could get her to laugh, you were set up for a second date and maybe even a third. Laughter was the key, and he’d turned that key as many times as he could manage during their date. He hadn’t pressured her into a kiss at the end of the evening—they’d shared a lingering hug that he’d thought she enjoyed as much as he had. She’d certainly held tight enough to him.
So where had he gone wrong?
Chapter Thirteen
Sheila
Sheila kicked herself.Keep it professional?She might as well have told him to buzz off. She had more class than to drop that kind of a bombshell on a guy with no time to explain herself, but she had to say something. Something to keep him from pulling her closer. Because if she didn’t, she’d end up falling into his arms and never wanting to leave. Brock’s embrace could carry her away. Heck, he’d hugged her good night and she had to pry herself away from him. She could have stood there the whole night through and not even noticed time tick by. It wasn’t just his strength that drew her in; it was the sound of his heartbeat. He had a slow, soothing beat that lulled her into a sense that all was right with the world.
She could use some of that calm as she marched into the security office. Three teenaged boys and two girls were lined up in plastic chairs against the wall. They hung their heads and studied their hands. Their phones were on Ted’s desk. Not having them was probably as much of a punishment as Ted could dish out in this situation. A trip to security wasn’t supposed to be a fun experience. The offices were even left off the tours for elementary school kids.
The head of security was an older gentleman with dark gray hair and leathered skin. He owned a private security firm that his kids ran, and he probably should retire, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from being on the right side of trouble. The job with the Redrocks was a compromise between him and his wife. He worked the season and took the rest of the year off.
Neal, Ted’s right-hand man, stood with his arms folded, glaring at the kids. He had Russian ancestry, and he liked to joke he could scare a mob boss into a confessional. He used all of his heritage to intimidate those who caused trouble in the stadium.
“What’s the plan?” Sheila prompted. She didn’t have time to sit around and chat with the kids. They all looked like they could use fierce hugs, and she was itching to soothe their worries. Even though they’d violated several state laws and the park’s policies, they were kids and her heart went out to them.
“We’ve called their parents and the police—in that order,” answered Neal with that gravelly voice of his. Honestly, it sounded like someone had taken his vocal cords out, dragged them behind a truck, and then put them back in.
The kids sank deeper in their seats.
There was nothing more for her to do here without interfering. Knowing that the situation was under control was what she needed. Still … She pulled Neal aside. “They look like good kids.”
He nodded. “Good kids who made a dumb mistake.”
“Can we … do something?”
He shook his head. “I can’t let this one go, Sheila.”
She pinched her lips. “I know. I just ache for them.”
“They’re juveniles, so it won’t show up on their permanent record. Hopefully, this will scare them straight. Maybe the judge will see what you see.”
She held up her crossed fingers. “Thanks, Neal.”
He lowered his chin in recognition and went back to filling out the paperwork for the official police report.
Sheila pressed a fist to her stomach as she hurried out. Moments like this were the worst part of her job. And this wasn’t going to be the only storm cloud of the day. That was for sure.
Her next stop was at the registration table, where Tilly Birks oversaw a crew of seven. Tilly gave the tours of the stadium to the elementary-aged children. She’d been an avid climber, on the verge of going pro, when her boyfriend at the time had fallen and broken his neck. The two of them went through a rough patch, but the giant ring on her finger attested to the fact that love ran deeper than fear and broken dreams.
“How many?” Sheila asked as she approached the back of the table.
Tilly was standing with a laptop balanced in the crook of her arm, pecking away with her right hand. “One hundred and forty-three entrants.” She paused to toss her long golden-blond hair over her shoulder. Her mint eyes stayed glued to the screen.
Sheila choked. “Are we going to be able to see that many tryouts? We’re limited on time here.”
The stadium and all the support staff were scheduled from nine to five. One full workday. If they ran out of time and people didn’t get a chance to audition, there could be hard feelings. Sheila was all about avoiding hard feelings when it came to the Redrocks.
“That’s seven hours and fifteen minutes. We have eight hours’ worth of slots.”
