Next to him, Julia snapped her gum. “He’s post-worthy.” She brought her phone to her chest and took several pictures.
“You should offer to show him the town.” Brock tucked his chin. Greg had thrown all thenot interestedsigns at Julia. Therefore, Brock should do the guy a favor and discourage Julia from chasing after someone who wasn’t into her. Come to think of it, saying things like that wasn’t kind to either of them.
Julia interrupted his thoughts with, “He offered her a job, you know?” She brought her nails up and studied them. “I overheard them talking in her office.”
When was Greg in her office? “Oh?”
“Yeah, he said he liked her hustle.” She flicked her fingers. “Whatever that means. I’m the one who gives her program reach.”
Brock swallowed. He reached for a water bottle and downed two large gulps to cover up the fact that he had no idea what to say. He gasped for air. “Is she taking it?” He continued to watch the two chat like best friends in the dugout.
Julia twisted her lips. “She turned him down, but I think she’s playing a game—getting him to offer more money.”
Brock’s mouth soured. He hated game playing. His dad was the best game player of all, constantly twisting words and decisions to make himself look better. Growing up, his friends thought he had the best baseball dad in the world, but they didn’t know that once Dad was out of the spotlight, he changed. Brock had sworn he’d never live with someone like that again.
“Is Sheila that—” He looked for a good way to say what he was thinking.“—strategic?”
Julia’s arm dropped in disbelief. “Pa-lease. She’s the master of strategy. I give her five years and she’s kicked David Butler out of the corner office and taken over the whole department.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I just try to stay on her good side.”
Brock went to spin the water bottle and fumbled, almost dropping it. The bottle crinkled and cracked in his grip.
Julia lifted an eyebrow but continued. “If you ask me, Greg’s interested in more than just Sheila’s professional qualifications. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
Just then, Greg put his hand on Sheila’s lower back and ushered her through the door to the locker room. Brock’s stomach dropped out. He squeezed the water bottle and the lid popped off, making the intern standing with his back to them duck like a bystander of an Old West shootout.
“Sorry,” Brock muttered. If he wasn’t feeling so keyed up, that would have been funny.
Julia checked her phone. “Time for another post. I’ll catch you later.”
“Yeah.” Brock stared down at the rubber mat they’d laid to protect the grass, getting lost in the geometric design as he thought things through. For a minute there, he’d let his heart step away from the base, itching to steal second. His hand stretched out, shaking it a little, daring the pitcher to try and pick him off.
He couldn’t afford to get cocky—not with his heart on the line. He needed to play it safe, stay closer to the bag. A big lead-off could put him in jeopardy of being thrown out. Losing at love was like getting spiked by a runner: the pain dropped a man to his knees. Brock had been there before, and he wouldn’t go back.
Chapter Sixteen
Sheila
Sheila scrubbed at her face in an effort to wake up. Life had been nonstop work since the open tryouts several days ago.
Rev-Aide was ready to become part of the Redrocks family. The only problem was that they wanted to reveal their sponsorship at the semifinals. Which meant that there were about a million and a half things that needed to be done in less than a week’s worth of time.
The first step had been to sign contracts. Thankfully, legal took care of most of that, but as the instigator of the brilliant plan and Greg’s contact with the team, Sheila had spent at least four hours a day making sure Greg was happy.
To buy herself some time, she’d called Tilly Birks and asked her to give Greg the world’s slowest tour of the stadium this morning. Tilly knew all the ins and out, the history, and the secret passageways. Not that there were secret passages, but there should be, because that would be awesome.
Okay, she was officially going on three hours of sleep and losing it. On top of entertaining an out-of-town guest and investor, there were new graphics to create and approve both on her end of things and at Rev-Aide. There was a social media map to hash out with Julia—who was thrilled with having Greg around. She had backed off on the flirting but took more pics than necessary of the poor man.
And it wasn’t just the semifinals Sheila was working on. The finals would take place in two weeks, and she wanted the vote to be cast by phone for immediate results so the winner could don the costume and make an appearance for the finale. Which meant spectators would text in their choice. Which necessitated working with Jerry to get the system up and running. Jerry was great at coding, but he had zero design skills. Each time she sent the ballot back for changes, he growled at her as if she’d poked his baby with a sharp stick.
Her phone rang, and she reached for it automatically. “This is Sheila, how can I help you?”
“You can come to dinner tonight,” said her dad.
She smiled at the warm invitation in his tone and tucked the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she attempted to clean off a corner of her desk. With a sense of glee, she ripped two sticky notes off the surface, crumpled them up, and tossed them in the trash. “I’d love to. What can I bring?”
Greg was having dinner with Harper and Coach Wolfe at their personal residence. Sheila hadn’t been to the house, but she’d heard it was an architectural accomplishment, having been built into a cliff with gorgeous views of the valley from every floor. Of course, that could be office gossip, but she believed it. Harper was the type of person who would live in an enchanted mansion on the hillside.
“Potato salad.”
