They managed to set the box behind the receptionist’s desk.
Ricky brushed his palms together. “What’s in here?”
“Halloween.” Sheila grinned. “Redrocks style.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. It didn’t stay, but it didn’t fall back over her eye either. Too bad. Brock kind of liked the disheveled look on her. “It’s promotional posters and Halloween bags to hand out at pop-ups.” Pop-ups were when a player appeared with a local radio or television personality somewhere in town. They usually drew in a nice crowd. “We’re raising a generation of Redrocks fans. Even if these kids don’t stay in St. George, they’ll take that loyalty with them and buy hoodies and socks with our logos for their kids.”
“But it’s September,” Brock blurted.
Sheila’s eyes sparkled. “I like to plan ahead. We’re already talking about Opening Day for next season upstairs.”
Ashley nodded in agreement.
Brock sighed. Upstairs as infront office makes a buck off the gamestrategy meetings. For a minute there, he’d forgotten that Sheila was part of the hustlers who, though necessary, rubbed him the wrong way. If a guy wanted to donate money to a charity, they wanted to post it on social media. If he stopped to talk to a few kids after the game, it was on a commercial within the week. “Everybody has an angle.”
“Excuse me?” Sheila leaned closer, her finger behind her ear and a dash of attitude in the cock of her hips.
Brock leaned into the challenge in her stance. “You can’t just hand the bags out to be nice. There’s some ulterior motive.”
Sheila’s eyes widened. “Um. Wearebeing nice. But I can’t justify spending our budget on candy bags unless there’s a return on the investment—even if it doesn’t happen for twenty years.”
Ricky jumped between the two of them, facing Sheila. He was an inch shorter than Brock’s six feet, three inches, so Brock could see over his shoulder. What he could see over there was a woman growing hostile. “Please pardon my friend’s rudeness.” Ricky flashed his bright whites at the ladies, turning on his charm. “I put him in a bad mood before we got here.”
Brock glared at the back of his head. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Ashley flicked her fingers. “It’s fine. We’ve got thick skin.”
Sheila harrumphed. She avoided his gaze. An uneasy feeling developed in the pit of his stomach at the idea that he’d made her angry, that there was something unpleasant between them.
She folded her arms, and Brock felt like a real jerk for having questioned her motives. He was tired from practice and his filter wasn’t working right. “We’ll see you two later.” He headed back for the long hallway to the heavy double doors.
Ricky said goodbye to the ladies with some pretty words. His comment to Brock wasn’t as nice. “You messed that up.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
“But on the bright side, we’re at the bottom of her list now. I doubt we’ll be handing out Halloween bags this year.”
Brock half smiled. “Yeah.” The thing was, he didn’t mind doing the appearances—not like some of the other guys did. He had the time on his hands, and kids were great. He wanted a couple of his own one day. And he liked being the face of the Redrocks. He was proud of his team and what they were doing.
His thoughts sank deeper into the mud of regret. It stuck to him and made his legs feel heavy. Sheila was a big part of those assignments and took pride in the community outreach program she’d designed. And he’d stepped all over it. He’d be lucky if she ever talked to him again.
Chapter Three
Sheila
Sheila punched the elevator button for the second floor. “Can you believe that guy? SayingI’vegot an angle.” She shoved her sleeves up her arms.
“Yeah, I can’t believe he brought that up. I mean, didn’t he see the giant chip you have on your shoulder?” Ashley replied.
Sheila’s mouth fell open. “Hey!”
Ashley barely managed to suppress her smile. It twitched at the corner of her lips, dying to get out. “I’ve worked with you for three seasons now. You push so hard, you put pile drivers to shame.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. “If he had any idea, he would have kept his mouth shut.”
Sheila stepped off the elevator. Her heels were stunning red to match her nails and her lips, but they’d almost cost her a sprained ankle. If Brock hadn’t stepped up and caught her, she’d be in the PT room with a bag of ice. She shivered, not at the thought of an ice pack but at the memory of Brock’s arms wrapped around her. He was warm and strong and smelled oh so nice. When he’d whispered in her ear, she’d turned into pudding.
With a quick mental shake, she brought herself back to the present. The marketing offices were several doors down from the elevator, and she headed that way. “I have to be.” She lowered her voice so those in the offices they passed wouldn’t hear. “This is a boys’ club.” There was also her constant need to prove herself to her parents. But hey, she’d turned that into a positive thing, using it to further her career, so there was no need to dwell on that.
“Well, they may have been testy, but at least they helped with the box.” Ashley turned in to the office first.
“Chivalry in medieval form. You lift heavy things for damsels in distress and then insult the ladies.”
