Hero(67)

I stared at him incredulously. “I don’t think it’s that easy.”

Charlie smiled. “I don’t think you know if it’s that easy. You’ve never tried to give it a shot.”

“Because I’m a personal assistant. I organize things for one person.”

“Caine Carraway.” He nodded and just hearing the name sent another shard of guilt stabbing into my gut. “If you can organize the life of someone as prominent as Carraway, you can organize a party or two.”

“We just met and you’re already giving me career advice. How did that happen?”

“Sorry.” He shot me a sheepish look and flicked his silky brown hair out of his blue eyes. So cute. It was a definite shame we hadn’t met months ago. “I have a tendency to do that. I should have been a guidance counselor.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I’m used to getting advice about my career.” Or at least I’d grown used to hearing all about it from Grandpa and Rachel since I started working with Caine.

Charlie’s gaze questioned my enigmatic comment, but before he could say anything Rachel bounced in between us like an excited teenager. “This way!”

I chuckled and threw Jeff a look.

He shrugged. “She gets like this when we have a babysitter.” He grinned and strode after her up the concrete slope into the light of the bleacher stands.

“After you.” Charlie gestured.

I blinked against the late-afternoon sun, and then spotted Rach and Jeff heading left toward the field box. I didn’t wait for Charlie to catch up before taking off after them. I wanted to be clear in the most diplomatic and least cruel way possible that this date was a nonstarter.

When I took my seat beside Jeff, I ignored the sight of a bunch of people getting their picture taken at home plate with the Red Sox mascot, Wally the Green Monster, and waited for Charlie to take his seat beside me. He got settled in, smiled at me, and let his eyes drift down over my legs. I was wearing a Red Sox girly-fit T-shirt and jean shorts.

Practically my entire body was blushing by the time he was done checking me out.

And that was when I decided the least cruel way was the most honest way.

I leaned into him and Charlie smiled and ducked his head toward me so he could hear me over the crowds and the guy talking into the mic about a charity foundation. “I didn’t know about tonight.”

He frowned. “About me?”

“Yeah. Rach didn’t tell me.” I could feel Jeff stiffen beside me as he overheard.

Charlie grimaced. “Is it a problem?”

I gave him an apologetic look. “I’m kind of seeing someone … I mean it’s … I don’t know what it is but—”

He held up a hand and gave me a disappointed smile. “I get it. Really, it’s no problem.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he assured me. I smiled gratefully at him. Such a seemingly sweet guy. What the hell was I doing? “You’ve still got to let me buy you something to eat, though. No strings?”

“You know what …? I think we should make Rachel do that.”

“I concur,” Jeff agreed beside me, and I looked at him to see he was not happy. Apparently Rachel hadn’t told Jeff I didn’t know about the setup either.

“I couldn’t,” Charlie insisted. “My mother would kill me if I let a woman buy her own dinner.”

I chuckled. “Isn’t that a little outdated?”

“Probably.” He grinned. “But she’s terrifying, so I do what she says.”

I nudged him with my arm. “Okay, then, I’ll have a hot dog, please.”

“Hot dogs! Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs!” a burly guy in a yellow vendor’s shirt bellowed from behind us, skipping down the steps with his hot case of dogs held above his head.

We burst out laughing. “Nice timing,” Charlie said, and lifted a hand to catch the guy’s attention as he turned at the bottom of the box.


Two hot dogs and a cold beer later, we were thirty minutes into the game and the Red Sox were killing it. The electric atmosphere of the crowded park fed into me and like always made me forget even the slow moments in the game.

“I have to get one of those shirts!” Rachel reached across Jeff to slap my knee. “The replica baseball shirts.”

“Why don’t you try the team store?”

“I want a girly one, though. My breasts will get lost in the guy’s one.”

I couldn’t remember seeing a feminine style of the shirt in the store. “Online?” I suggested.

Instead of answering, Rachel looked over my shoulder and her eyebrows rose. I glanced back to see what had distracted her.