Page 59 of Fortune's Control
Lainey snapped her fingers, catching my attention. “Pete is here.”
My reverie broke as I squeezed Shane’s knee. “Can you call him over for us?”
“What for?” Shane asked, but he raised his hand and whistled without waiting for a response.
“Great game today, all of you,” Pete said. His long braid fell over one shoulder, covering the tiny hole in his flannel shirt’s shoulder.
All four men offered their thanks.
“I especially enjoyed seeing you on the field today. Your father would be proud,” Pete said.
Shane’s jaw tightened. “I appreciate that.”
“We played together in high school, too. But that was years and years ago,” Pete continued.
I interrupted to give Shane some relief. “Pete, Diane is here tonight.”
Lainey added her part. “She talked about you at the game today, and again tonight.”
“She did?” He rolled back on his heels, and his eyes sought Diane as she moved from one table to another.
“She’d enjoy seeing you tonight.” I hoped my suggestion sounded casual.
“Why don’t you see if she’ll be at the next game?” Lainey asked.
“That’s a fantastic idea,” I added, playing more of my part. “You two should come together. We need more fans on our side.”
“Is that right?” Pete asked.
Diane noticed us talking, and her blush was visible across the restaurant.
Shane huffed. “Go ask her out, Pete. That’s what they’re suggesting. The whole town wonders when you’ll get around to it.”
It was Pete’s turn to blush. “They are?” There were several nods. “Well, if you’ll excuse me.” He went to lift his hat as a goodbye before realizing it wasn’t there.
“Simple is usually easier,” Shane said.
20-Lilah
Emma’s car turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.
“Party time is over,” Shane remarked. He stroked the small of my back to offer some comfort.
“She stayed an extra day for me.”
“I think Emma didn’t want to drive home while hungover. How long is her drive? Five hours of nursing a headache behind the wheel.” I bumped his hip with mine. “No, you’re right. She stayed here for me,” he teased.
Emma despised driving.
“Go ahead and think that. The Gator Tale proved rowdier than we planned.” Our girls’ night out turned into a celebration for winning the game before developing into a general town party. We ordered one pitcher after another until Shane volunteered as the designated driver. I leaned my head on his arm and pulled away. “You’re damp.” I sniffed him. “You smell.”
“Late morning run. I plan to shower before heading into town.”
“Then you’ll see Sophie and me later.”
“The grant work,” Shane guessed. He supported the idea after I told him, calling it the ideal job. I suggested Shane join in, and he backed away, horrified. “The two of you are starting on that. Are you responsible for the management and paperwork?”
I rubbed my hands together. “It’s my dream job, Shane. I’ll make a chocolate cake to celebrate tonight, and Sophie volunteered to make dinner for us.”
