Brock
Brock was sitting on his completed deck, his shoes off and a country song playing on his phone. He should have been thrilled to complete it so soon, should have been looking for his next project. Instead, he was nursing a soda and his wounded ego. Sheila should be in the chair next to him, ready to tap their cans together in celebration. He hadn’t figured out a way to break through the wall of silence that stood between them.
Part of the problem was that she was neck-deep in work. Every great idea he came up with, he shot down because it took time. And “time was what she didn’t have.” If he could bottle up an hour and present it to her, he’d get a smile.
His phone dinged, and he did a double take at the name on the screen.
Sheila:I wanted to thank you for all your help with the mascot auditions. You were amazing.
He adjusted his ball hat. Was she wrapping up loose ends?Not as good as Juan, though.He held his breath and waited. If she joked back, he was in.
Sheila:No one’s as good as Juan—just ask him.
Boom! It was on. He sat forward, rubbing his sweaty palm against his cargo shorts. Before he could think of a comeback, she texted again.
We got the official costume today. It’s legit!
Pic?
No way—top secret.
He grinned.You’re the amazing one! The whole contest was brilliant.
I couldn’t have done it without you.
He was typing that she surely could have when the dots rolled, indicating that she was typing again.
I miss you.
He fell into the backrest, making the chair’s front feet lift off the deck. He could dance around the issue, but there was no sense taking a single when you could make a double play.Does Kelly know?
IDK. I don’t care.
He watched the three dots bounce. His heart pounded away in his chest.
I messed up. Do you think we could try this again?
One side of his mouth lifted, and soon the other side followed.I’d like tocatch up.
Me too.
He threw his hands in the air and jogged around his deck as if jogging the bases after a walk-off home run. He was back at home plate, and it was the best place on the field.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sheila
Sheila stood on the left of the stage. “I don’t know why I have to be here,” she muttered to the intern.
He gave her a blank look. “Because Mrs. Wolfe said you had to be here.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Sheila adjusted her shirt and stood taller. Being near the stage wasn’t part of the plan. She should be up in the booth, where she could monitor the social feed and see what the world thought of their new mascot. Instead she was stuck here, in the shade, feeling like she was in the way of the people who actually had a job to do down here.
Greg sauntered over, his light-blue button-up shirt folded over his forearms and open at the neck. It was the first time she’d seen him so casual. “Sheila! Thank you again for bringing this all together.”
She smiled easily. Greg was a good guy. His business practices were above board, and he was more than generous in contract negotiations. “It’s been my pleasure. I can’t tell you how proud I am to have brought Rev-Aide and the Redrocks together to make all this happen.”
He reached out, and they shook hands. “That job is always available, if you want it. Seriously, I’ll fire someone to bring you on.”
