I didn’t even know Seattle had a baseball team,” Gray said under his breath, as he studied the elaborate retractable roof of Safeco Field.
“Easy, there,” Ian said as he handed Gray another beer. “I’ll have you know that the Mariners are well ahead of your White Sox this year.”
“They used to be your White Sox too,” Gray said, taking a sip of beer.
“Sure, but then I moved here. And now I’m a Mariners fan,” his best friend said succinctly.
“That’s just as well—you’ll never have to worry about the hassle of getting World Series tickets.”
“You just wait,” Ian said, his eyes tracking a line double into center field. “This team will become your favorite.”
Gray shook his head. It seemed like yesterday that he and Ian had been buying nosebleed tickets to White Sox games when they needed a break from studying for their Northwestern finals. Like Gray, Ian was a Midwestern transplant in the middle of Seattle’s greenery. He’d moved to the Pacific Northwest several years prior.
As two of Gray’s closest—okay, only—friends, Ian and his wife, Ashley, had been a major factor in Gray accepting a job in Seattle.
Them, and an intense desire to get away from a toxic ex-fiancée.
Ian’s son squirmed impatiently in his seat. “Dad, can I have some pizza?”
“Now? You just finished your pretzel.”
“I know, but I’m hungry again. And the pepperoni looks really good,” said the perpetually hungry-for-junk-food Ryan.
“He has a point,” Gray said, not taking his eyes off the field. “The pizza looked awesome.”
“Ashley’s going to kill me,” Ian said with a shake of his head. “She hates when he eats crap.”
“It’s a ball game,” Gray replied. “What are you supposed to feed him, kale?”
“What’s kale?” Ryan asked, thumping his baseball glove with his tiny fist.
“My point exactly,” Gray said. “Get the man some pizza, Dad!”
Ian sighed. “I’ll be back. Ryan, make sure your godfather doesn’t drink my beer.”
“Beer’s gross.”
“Totally,” Gray replied, taking another sip of his “gross” beer.
As Ian went to fetch the offending junk food, Gray watched his godson out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t know Ryan well. They saw each other every couple years or so, but that was practically an eternity to a kid. Ryan was a new person every time Gray saw him.
When Ian had invited Gray to tag along on the father-son outing, Gray had waited for the usual rush of apprehension. Small talk was hard enough without figuring out what to say to a first grader. But instead of making a polite work excuse, Gray had found himself accepting. Wasn’t this why he had moved to Seattle? To make connections with people?
“How’s school?” Gray asked, realizing he’d been brooding.
“Good,” Ryan said with a small shrug. “My teacher’s pretty cool. And I got second in the science fair.”
“That’s cool. Got a girlfriend?”
Ryan’s small body convulsed in dramatic dry heaves. “Girls are gross.”
“Cooties?” Gray asked knowingly.
“I dunno. They’re just stupid. I like baseball way better.”
Gray smiled into his beer. Sometimes he thought he liked baseball better too. There was none of the drama, and the rules of the game were straightforward. With baseball, there was no worrying about why sometimes a woman looked at you like she wanted to curl up in your arms and stay there, and other times she looked at you like you were an inconvenience she had to somehow explain to her family.
Baseball had no distractingly wide blue eyes or slim curves or smile a man could drown in.
The beer turned slightly sour in Gray’s stomach as he realized he hadn’t been thinking about Brynn.
“One pepperoni pizza, coming right up!” Ian announced, scooting past the row of knees as he made his way back to them. He plopped a small box into Ryan’s lap as he passed, and then, settling into the middle seat, handed another box to Gray.
“Am I off the hook from healthy eating too?” Gray asked, as he opened the personal-sized pizza box.
“We’re splitting it,” Ian said as he handed out napkins like the most experienced of dads. Gray nearly smiled at the gesture. Hard to imagine this was the same wiry frat boy who once refused to let anyone be admitted to his house party unless they could eat nachos with no hands.
The three of them settled into companionable male silence and watched the Mariners battle a close game. They weren’t exactly bringing in the runs, but neither were the opposing Yankees, so all in all it was a relatively well-paced game.
“How’s the job going?” Ian asked as he finished off Ryan’s barely touched pizza. “All settled in?”
“Fine,” Gray said. “A challenge. Brayburn Luxuries has genius behind it, but I’m not sure Martin was as adept at the operational aspects as he fooled everyone into thinking. I find that most of my time is spent trying to find records of previous deals and the contact information for existing clients. It’s pretty fuc—” He glanced at Ryan. “Pretty messed up.”
“You were going to say ‘fuck,’” Ryan announced disinterestedly as he blew bubbles into his Coke.
“Ryan!” Ian exclaimed. “Where’d you learn that word? Are you trying to get me in trouble with your mother?”
Ryan shrugged. “Mom’s the one who said it. The other day in the car when some other car cut in front of her. She told me never to tell you.”
A slow smile broke out over Ian’s face at the spousal ammunition his son had just unknowingly handed over. “Did she, now? Son, did I ever tell you how much I love you?” He pulled Ryan close to his shoulder for a moment, and at six, Ryan was still young enough not to be embarrassed by such displays.
Gray looked away, disturbed that the casual gesture gave him a vague sense of discontent that hadn’t been there a few months ago. With their identical blond hair and brown eyes, they were the classic father-son baseball duo. Gray felt like an outsider. It was a feeling he’d long become accustomed to, but it had never bothered him quite so much before.
“Okay, so work’s not great, but it’ll get there,” Ian said, returning his attention to Gray. “You’ll turn it around in no time. It’s why Brayburn selected you as his replacement.”
“I guess,” Gray said noncommittally.
“Well, that’s the enthusiastic businessman I know so well,” Ian said with a raised eyebrow. “What’s the deal, you homesick or something? Got your period?”
Gray didn’t bother to respond to that, and took a sullen bite of pizza.
Ian pressed on. “It’s your bratty siblings, isn’t it? Jenna is still giving you crap for not taking her ice-skating when she was nine, and Jack’s still treating you like an impersonal stranger.”
Gray tensed at that, but it was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Hell, it was nothing he hadn’t thought before. “The twins are fine,” he said. “Jenna’s actually coming to visit in a couple weeks. I doubt we’ll be spending any white Christmases together anytime soon, but they seem to have forgiven me for whatever it was I did or didn’t do when they were kids.”
Ian nodded thoughtfully, having met Jack and Jenna often enough to know that those relationships were nothing they were going to solve before the end of the ninth inning.
“Woman problems, then,” Ian said.
Gray’s chewing slowed for a moment, and his jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
Ian chuckled. “I fucking knew it.”
“Dad, you said—”
“Look, the moose!” Ian said quickly, pointing at the Mariners’ mascot dancing on top of the dugout. “Why don’t you go see if you can shake his hand?”
Needing no further encouragement, Ryan scampered down the stairs, holding his too-large cap with one hand, glove held protectively in front of him just in case a fly ball happened to find its way into his waiting mitt.
“You’re still with the gym rat, right? Your assistant’s sister?”
Gray growled at the mention of Sophie. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Who? The girlfriend or your assistant?”
“The assistant. I specifically look forward to weekends because it’s the one area of my life that Sophie hasn’t bulldozed with her good moods and chatter. And don’t call Brynn my girlfriend. She’s just…a woman I’m seeing. Sort of.”
Barely.
He’d only spoken to her briefly since her ridiculous plan of a double date had exploded. He should definitely call her. Maybe arrange dinner for tomorrow.
Gray frowned. The idea didn’t hold as much appeal as it should.
And the hell of it was, Gray should be feeling guilty about the way the failed double date had gone. Not just because he’d sent Brynn home with another man, but because Gray hadn’t cared.
Weighing even more heavily on his conscience was the fact that sitting in companionable silence with Sophie had been a good deal more enjoyable than several of his strained silences with Brynn.
Which was ridiculous. Brynn was perfect for him. She had a respectable career, cared about her image, read the news, and paid attention to politics. She wasn’t wedding- or baby-crazy.
Didn’t have distracting curves or wear inappropriate clothes or act like she was chronically on the verge of throwing glitter at random passersby.
He realized that once again, Sophie had wedged into his thoughts.
He tried to push her back.
Maybe it was time to take things with Brynn to the next level. He’d already waited longer than average to pursue any sort of physical relationship with her. Gray kept telling himself it was because he didn’t want to rush Brynn.
He refused to consider that there were other motivations for his reluctance to sleep with Brynn.
He waited for the idea of Brynn in bed to appeal. Nothing. Not the slightest stir. He felt…bored.
“I don’t think we’re working out,” Gray muttered. Hell, it hadn’t been working out from date one, but neither one had a good reason to firmly break it off. Perhaps because they were both too damn polite.
And polite wasn’t good enough.
Ian dug a hand into a bag of peanuts. “Ashley will be disappointed. She’s been trying to marry you off forever.”
“She has?” Gray asked with genuine surprise. He’d always figured that women didn’t see him as the husband type. He either got labeled as a consummate bachelor or a love-’em-and-leave-’em prick. It wasn’t a reputation he fostered, per se, but he’d become resigned to it. He obviously lacked something that women were looking for when it came to long-term commitment.
At least that’s what Jessica had told him.
Ian’s voice jerked him back to the present. “Sure, Ash always has about a half-dozen single women in her book club alone who are dying to meet you. She’s described you as being the strong, silent type. Women love that shit.”
Gray grunted.
“So what happened? I thought you liked Brynn.”
“I do,” Gray said truthfully. “That’s the trouble. I like her. That’s it.”
Ian paused in munching his peanuts. “Sounds simple. Maybe simple’s what you need after Jessica…”
Gray remained silent as he watched the Mariners’ third baseman hit into a double play. “It’s kind of boring,” he said finally.
“No offense, but ‘boring’ is kind of your thing these days. I thought you liked things predictable.”
“I do,” Gray said, his mood turning increasingly surly. He didn’t like all of Ian’s questions. They were hitting disturbingly close to a nerve he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He felt his friend watching him out of the corner of his eye and tried not to squirm. “What?”
“It’s the other one,” Ian said with a slightly awed tone.
“What?”
“Your girlfriend’s sister. Your employee.”
“What about her?”
“You like her,” Ian accused. “That’s why things aren’t working out with the perfect sister. You like the imperfect one. The one that looks just like your ex-fiancé. Because that’s healthy. Not.”
“I never should have told you about her resemblance to Jess,” Gray said shortly, taking a sip of his beer. “What gave you that idea?”
Ian continued to watch him. “The way you talk about her. You should have heard yourself that first night you found out she’d be working for you. It was the most I’ve heard you talk in years.”
Gray grunted. “Sophie is…Everything about her is wrong.”
“Mm-hmm. Bet she’s hot,” Ian said, turning his attention back to the game.
“She’s a mess.”
“She’s gotta be hot,” Ian muttered again, under his breath.
Gray noticed that for all his talk about “hot” women, Ian’s eyes had never left his son. Ryan was now wearing a big foam finger and, at the mascot’s beckoning, stood atop the dugout and helped to lead “the wave.” Ryan’s face glowed with pure youthful ecstasy.
Had Gray ever been that happy? He couldn’t remember.
Flagging down the beer vendor, Gray handed over some money and pushed Ian’s twenty-dollar bill away. “My turn,” he grumbled.
“So if it’s not the younger sister who’s under your skin, why are you planning to ignore a beautiful woman who hasn’t done anything wrong?”
Gray gave Ian an annoyed look. “Are we still talking about this? What are we, sorority sisters now? Shall I order us some ice cream and Chardonnay?”
Ian continued to look at him.
Gray sighed and relented. Maybe talking about Sophie would clear his head.
“Okay, so Sophie might kind of be getting to me. But not in the good way, just…She’s just always there.”
Ian whistled. “I was right. You are hitting on the help.”
“Don’t call her that,” Gray snapped more sharply than he’d intended.
Ian glanced at him in surprise, and Gray leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, the game temporarily forgotten.
“Shit,” Gray breathed. “I don’t know what to do. This girl drives me crazy. And she’s my assistant, for Christ’s sake. She’s gorgeous but snotty. She has these massive self-esteem issues and yet is incredibly determined in what she wants. Most of the time I think she hates my guts, and yet sometimes there are these looks…”
“Hold on, let me get us some tampons,” Ian said.
Gray glowered, even as he deserved it. Babbling wasn’t his style, but he’d never been in a relationship that gave him so many headaches. Hell, this wasn’t even a relationship. It was just…an inability to escape from the other person.
Sophie was too bubbly and unpredictable. Too much passion, not enough substance. Maybe that made her sort of magnetic, but should he be investing his valuable time thinking about her? Definitely not. He had a business to run, siblings to look out for, a godson to take to baseball games, and a girlfriend to make love to.
Plus, he wasn’t her type. She went after the flighty, artistic types. The party boys. There’s no way she would think of him as anything other than an experimental fling. Not that he wanted her to.
He just wanted…
“Maybe I should take Brynn to dinner tomorrow. Somewhere fancy that requires her to wear a black dress. Women always wear sexy underwear under a black dress, right?”
Ian frowned. “Wait, I thought we were talking about Sophie?”
“We were. And we agreed that she’s completely inappropriate. So now we’re talking about Brynn. Who’s very appropriate.”
Ian didn’t respond, and Gray’s head dropped forward slightly in resignation. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
His friend lifted a shoulder. “Could be worse.”
Gray pictured the colorful, obnoxious chaos that was Sophie. Brynn’s sister. And his assistant.
Whom he couldn’t get out of his head.
“Actually, Ian…I’m pretty sure that this is as bad as it gets.”