Mom shimmied her shoulders. “I won’t say no.”
Dad turned to look at her as a contestant ran off the stage. “You look like you’ve had a rough morning.”
Sheila patted her hand over her short hair. It felt … big. Brock’s fingers had worked their way through it once … twice? Heavens, but it felt wonderful when he rubbed circles over her scalp. She practically melted just thinking about it. “You know how it is—I’m going in twenty directions when I’m over an event.” She pulled out her phone and turned the camera to selfie mode to check out the damage. Her lipstick was gone. She checked the Jumbotron, where Brock was interviewing a lady in spandex and a plastic face mask. He didn’t have a splash of color on him. They must have done an excellent job of kissing away her lip stain. She pressed her fingertips to her slightly swollen lips.
“Here.” Mom shoved a tube of lipstick at her. “Pull yourself together.”
Sheila chuckled as she popped off the lid and twisted the color out. It wasn’t her normal bright red; Mom preferred a darker tone. But it would work in a pinch—and this was a pinch. She’d lost a whole half hour in a kiss. Well, notlost. She was holding on to that time—keeping it in her pocket to pull out when she felt overwhelmed again. Still, there was so much to do, and she needed to be on top of her game today. Once the color was in place, she took a moment to tame her hair, twisting it around her fingers to smooth out the curls.
She glanced back up at the screen. Brock didn’t look like he’d had a half hour of kissing. He smiled big into the camera. Okay. Maybe that smile was an indicator that he’d enjoyed his time. It was kind of a perma-grin. He hadn’t been that relaxed before they disappeared in the locker room.
Chagrined that she’d done something so unprofessional, she ducked away from her image on her phone. She darkened the screen and put it in her back pocket. “Have you been here all day?” she asked her parents.
“We had to come early to get good seats,” said Mom.
“And we’re staying until they announce the mascot,” added Dad.
Sheila grinned. That was exactly what she’d hoped the die-hard fans would do, and no one was a bigger fan than her father. Mom came in a close second, though. She lifted her gaze and surveyed the lower bowl. It was packed. Fans lounged in their seats, snacking or sipping on giant cups of soda. She needed to check the concession sales numbers. They were reported in real time, so she’d know how close they were to meeting their goals.
Her lightness started to evaporate. She crouched down and gave her mom a quick hug. “It’s so good to see you both.” She leaned across Mom and hugged Dad too. He smelled like popcorn. “But I have to get back to work.”
Dad waved her off. “Go be awesome.”
She laughed. He’d said the same thing each morning as she went out the door to school. She’d carried that phrase with her through life, feeling the pressure to be awesome while knowing that her father would think she was awesome no matter what.
“Love you.” Mom grinned as she pulled Sheila closer. “When you get a minute, fill me in on who you were kissing.”
Sheila’s mouth dropped open. “I—I—” Her gaze cut to her dad.
“Oh, he has no idea.” Mom giggled. “But I know my girls. Kelly’s been head over heels for that Brock fellow down there and can hardly think straight.”
Sheila’s knees gave out and she landed on her backside on the stairs. “Kelly what?”
Mom frowned in concern over Sheila’s lack of social graces. “She talks about him all the time.”
Ice filled Sheila’s stomach. “They only went out once.”
“I know. But there’s something for love at first sight.” Mom sighed happily. “She’s smitten, and if I know your sister, she’ll bring him for family dinner soon.”
Sheila was at a loss for words. Was Brock playing her? She turned to find him on the field, her eyes tracing the outline of his broad shoulders and tapered waist. Had Kelly wrapped her arms around him? Were they texting, calling, communicating—just waiting for the chance to get together again?
This wouldn’t be the first time a guy played her. Although Brad, her college romance, hadn’t dated her sister. He’d dated Wanda, who lived down the hall. For three months! Her face burned with humiliation just thinking about how their whole dorm knew and not one person had told her. Some of them had even helped Brad and Wanda sneak around.
She pressed her fisted hand against her stomach. Throwing up was a definite possibility.
“I have to go,” she mumbled as she stumbled up the steps. Her mom was probably watching her, and she’d call with questions. Sheila could make something up about the team’s image or worrying about mixing family with business or something along those lines to explain her sudden departure.
She grabbed for her phone, needing to hear Kelly’s side of the story. Her thumb paused over her sister’s name in her contacts lists. She couldn’t just call out of the blue, not when she was in the middle of an event. There wasn’t time to subtly craft questions, and she didn’t want to give away her hand. If she told Kelly she’d gone out with Brock, and Kelly thought she was in love with him, then there’d be heck to pay.
So she couldn’t call. Not here. Not now.
But if she didn’t call, she wouldn’t have the answers to calm her quaking body. She continued up the steps, her legs shaky.
She tapped her finger in the middle of her forehead and closed her eyes, feeling her way up the steps using muscle memory. She was almost to the top of the lower bowl when she heard a low “Hello, Sheila.”
Smiling out of reflex, she turned to find Greg Downs, owner of Rev-Aide sports drinks, getting to his feet, offering a handshake. He had on a Rev-Aide ball hat, a pair of gray slacks, and a white polo shirt that reflected light like tinfoil.
Sheila stuffed her surprise down and heartily shook his hand. “Greg, it’s so good to see you. I wasn’t expecting you today, or I would have sent tickets for the VIP booth.”
