“Because you look beautiful.”
Kelly tipped her head. “You’re the best baby sister—ever.”
Guilt flushed through Sheila’s chest.
“Rule number three of dating: never let the man see you cry over him.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder.
“I don’t think you have to worry about that. Brock’s not here today.”
Kelly concentrated on outlining her lips. “I saw him twenty minutes ago. He met Mom and Dad.”
“What?!” Sheila grabbed Kelly’s arms, making her draw a pink line across her cheek. “He’s here?”
“Yeah,” she said as if Sheila were dense. “I don’t think Mom likes him all that much.”
Sheila dropped her arms. “I have to go.” She looked right and then left, her hair slapping across her face. She took off for the nearest door markedEmployees Only.
“Love you,” Kelly called behind her.
Sheila lifted a hand in response, her mouth glued shut with determination to avoid Brock. She wasn’t even sure what to say to him. He’d obviously hurt Kelly’s feelings—for about five minutes—but a ladybug could make Kelly cry.
The heavy metal door shut behind her, and she was alone in a stairwell. She could take this up two floors and be in the booth. Or she could walk out there and find Brock. She dithered.
What would she say? She’d like to unsay the words she’d thrown at him in the supermarket. She’d have to, because she’d messed up as badly as a pitcher who couldn’t find the strike zone. The only way to save the play was to make a throw down to first base, and she had no idea how to do that. For heaven’s sake, what did you say to a guy you were falling in love with after sending him packing?
Chapter Twenty
Brock
“And that’s it, folks. Thanks so much. I mean, really, thank you for coming out today and celebrating with us. Let’s give our seven finalists a final round of applause.”
Brock clapped along with those around him as Juan continued to jabber on. Brock had moved to the upper bowl, wanting to steer clear of Kelly and her parents—and hoping to catch sight of Sheila. She’d done a good job of staying behind the scenes. He hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of her white hair and red lips all day. With a heavy sigh, he headed for the exit. Maybe he could finish the railing on his deck this evening.
His steps were slow as he made his way to the players’ parking lot. He kept his head down, his ball hat low. The people milling around were fans, and he wasn’t in the mood to smile for pictures and sign tee shirts.
He was cutting across a walkway, headed towards the employees-only door, when a small body planted itself in front of him. He stepped back to avoid running over the lady, only to find that it was Sheila’s mom.
“Hi,” he blurted.
She put both hands on her hips and glared. “Michael told me everything you said. What right do you have to judge our family situation?”
His neck grew warm. A man bumped into him from behind. “I wasn’t judging. I was sticking up for Sheila.”
“I’m her mother. I will stick up for her.” She pointed to her chest.
Brock folded his arms and lifted an eyebrow in challenge.
Lisa deflated. She pulled his elbow until he went to sit by her in the empty bleachers. The place cleared out fast. The parking lot was probably a mess, but inside, things were calming down. Empty popcorn boxes littered the ground, piles of sunflower seed shells dotted the walkways, and cups lingered in the drink holders.
He put his elbows on his legs and listened, not sure where this conversation would take him but pretty sure he was about to find out Lisa’s agenda. Everybody had one.
Lisa leaned forward, her gaze on the outfield. “I don’t think you’re playing games with my daughters. That puppy-dog sadness in your eyes is enough to convince me that your heart is in this—and it’s not after Kelly. Sooo …”
Brock leaned back, lifted his ball hat, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I think she gave up on me. Besides, she won’t do anything to hurt your family or come between her and Kelly.”
“No. Nope. And no.” She cut her flat hand through the air. “My girl is not a quitter. As long as you’re breathing, you have a chance.”
He chuckled. “Breathing I can do.”
