DARIUS POUNCED AS soon as she cleared the door.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t go charging into the lion’s den when your boss is chawing ass like that.”
He flanked her step for step as she sped back to her desk.
“Not now, Darius. Later, but not now. Right now, I need you to hide me somewhere.”
“Hide you? Girl, if Kurt’s on a tear, and he’s looking to tan your hide, I am not the paper tiger you want to stand behind.”
“I don’t need to hide from Kurt. I need to get away for a little while and write a press release, and if you don’t help me, I’ll never spill the details on what just happened in there.”
Darius stabbed his fingers against his chest and eyed her in horror. “Don’t even tease! You are the White Witch. Even Tilda Swinton in that movie had more heart than you.” He pouted. “And you still owe me the deets on your weekend with Harry Potter.”
“Well, you won’t get those either until I finish this assignment.”
Darius clucked his tongue. “Fine. Let’s go to the fourth-floor breakroom. They have a Lavazza.”
“Our breakroom has a Lavazza.”
“I know, but fourth also has Nico.”
“Who’s Nico?”
Darius simpered and batted his eyelashes. “He’s a junior agent on fourth.”
Charlie grinned at his antics, following him to the stairs. “And why haven’t I heard about Nico before?”
An eye roll and a look of disappointment told Charlie the answer should be obvious. “Because last I knew, he had a boyfriend named Sean, but Saturday night after the party, I saw Sean at Oasis dancing with someone who was not Nico, so this bears more investigating.”
When Charlie returned to their floor an hour later — after successfully submitting her piece to eleven different news outlets — she found a note on her desk and nine texts on her phone. All, of course, from Hutch.
But now that the danger had passed, Charlie was more than a little peeved. He’d been a reckless ass, and they were all lucky to have survived his madness. As far as she was concerned, Hutch Barlow could sweat it out a little.
But only a little.
Charlie had every intention of having him by her side at the baseball game. No matter what, Hutch would have to wait because once she’d posted her press release, Darius could not be avoided.
“Alright now, be a good girl. Start from the beginning and tell Darius everything.”
So she did.
His expressions, exclamations to the heavens, celebratory dance moves, and faux fainting spells as he listened were more entertaining than any story she could tell.
“Girl, Prince Harry is Hutch Barlow? You right. I never would’ve believed his real name was Harold.” His look of disbelief was quickly morphing into admiration. “But Hutch Barlow? You got more spunk than I gave you credit for.”
Charlie rolled her eyes, but she blushed all the same.
“Ooh, and you like him, too. You done got twitterpated,” he teased.
She could hardly deny that. “Maybe, but I’m still mad at him.”
Darius pursed his lips and shrugged. “I could help you with that, honey lamb. We could have some fun with him.
Charlie arched a brow. “Oh?”
Biting down on his smile, Darius nodded. “Hand me your phone, sugar.”
The number of text messages had climbed to ten, and she watched Darius’s eyes flare as he skimmed through them. “Oh, good Lord… poor creature…”
She watched him tap her contacts and shimmy a little with excitement before he pressed the phone to his ear.
“Charlie.” Even from a few feet away, she could hear the tension in Hutch’s voice.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Barlow. This is Darius DeMarco, Ms. Woodruff’s personal assistant for the day.” Darius’s voice lilted in a sugary tone. “How are you today, sir?”
“Um… fine… Is Charlie there?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Barlow. Ms. Woodruff is not available at present. She’s a very busy woman, but she can fit you into her schedule this evening,” Darius purred.
Charlie bit down on her smile.
“Of course, you’ll have to join her while she’s on the clock. If you’re free, there will be a ticket to the Giants’ game waiting for you at Will Call. You’ll be able to find Ms. Woodruff in Section 112. Can I let her know you’ll be there?”
“Y-yes. Tell her I’ll be there.”
Darius made eyes at Charlie at the urgency in Hutch’s voice. But she didn’t need the translation; she’d heard it all on her own. Charlie started to feel a little bad about Darius’s game, and she reached for the phone, but he shot up a hand and shook his head.
“Very good, sir—”
“And Darius? Tell her I’m sorry.”
Charlie lunged for the phone again, but Darius, who was a good six inches taller, just blocked her attempt and gave her his back.
“Give me that,” she hissed.
“Good day, Mr. Barlow,” Darius sang before disconnecting the call. He spun around with a chastising expression. “Do not mess with a master, honey lamb. That cutie pie needs to dangle just a little longer.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Uhn-uhn-uhn. You need to get yourself home and put on something other than Miss Office Pencil Skirt.” Darius crossed his arms and pressed a knuckle to his chin, scrutinizing her. “It’ll be cool tonight, so I’m thinking leggings, tunic, and an accent scarf. The Giants’ colors are black, orange, and cream. Can you work with that?”
Charlie cataloged her wardrobe. “I think I can work with that.”
“Good,” Darius said, shooing her away. “Now go home. Take a shower, and make yourself look effortlessly gorgeous. My work here is done.”
He left without a backward glance. Charlie thought about picking up the phone to call Hutch and smooth things over herself, but another couple of hours would probably do them both good. She closed her computer, packed up her briefcase, and headed home.
“… AND NOW TO perform ‘The Star-Spangled Banner,’ singer and songwriter from Oakland, Carly Bond…”
Charlie stood for the national anthem, but her eyes searched the crowd. Hutch still had not arrived. Despite the chill in the evening air, her palms had started to sweat. Why wasn’t he here yet?
She tried not to, but Charlie checked her phone a third time since finding her seat. No texts. Not missed calls. She had not heard from Hutch since Darius called him hours before.
Don’t panic, she told herself. He’ll be here.
She felt strange sitting by herself in an arena of forty thousand people. Everyone around her seemed to be having such a good time. The crowd cheered as the soulful singer belted out “and the home of the brave!” and Charlie made herself clap.
Had he changed his mind? Was he worried that being with her would always involve this much drama? Did he—
“Hey, beautiful.”
She turned. “Hutch.” His name left her on a sigh of relief.
“Sorry, baby. The Will Call line stretched all the way to Palo Alto. I’ve been here for forty-five minutes. I tried to text, but they all kept failing.”
Wearing a black Henley, faded jeans, and a rueful smile, Hutch edged into the aisle and stopped at the empty seat next to hers. Throughout AT&T Park, applause surged again as the announcer ordered the Giants and the Padres to play ball, but Hutch and Charlie stood silent and motionless, eyes on each other.
“There’s something you should know about me,” Hutch said, pitching his voice low so only she could hear him.
“What’s that?”
“I’m impulsive.”
Charlie pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t smile. “I think I’m learning that.”
“And I usually let organs like my gut or my heart call the shots for me.”
Taming her mouth grew more difficult. “Yeah, I think I knew that the day we met.”
This time, his smile was the one breaking free.
Hello, dimples.
Hutch shrugged. “They usually don’t fail me. My gut or my heart. On the field, I can trust them nine times out of ten. They tell me when to turn, leap, snag, and then run like hell for the end zone,” he said, stepping closer to her. “They told me to chase you. To come back to you. To send you flowers. To leave you notes. To pull you onto the dance floor. To follow you into the bathroom…”
He reached down and claimed her hand. He wore his hair loose. Did he know how sensual it looked? How it begged her to run her fingers through it?
“They told me to pull over on our way home and make sure you knew there were no expectations. To cook you an omelet. To carry you to my bedroom. Nine out of ten times my heart and my gut were dead on.”
With his other hand, he brushed his knuckles down her cheek.
“But I screwed up today.”
Charlie took a deep breath and let it out. “I just wish you would have said something first.”
He shook his head, grinning. “I figured you would’ve tried to stop me.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Ya think?”
Hutch’s easy laughter rained down over her, warming her from top to toe. So he’d screwed up. So what? If he followed his instincts and got it right ninety percent of the time, she could live with that. Quite happily.
“I just want us to have every chance to work. I don’t know how long you’d have been able to handle hiding, and, baby…” he said, grabbing her by the hips and tugging her into him, “…I don’t want to hide you.”
His lips came down on hers, and the heat they brought had her opening for him a second later.
“Down in front!” “Get a room!” People behind them jeered.
Charlie jerked away, collapsed into her seat, tugging Hutch with her as she covered face in her hands. Hutch just laughed and wrapped a consoling arm around her.
“See what fun it is not hiding?” he whispered in her ear.
In spite of herself, Charlie giggled.
Hutch kept his arm behind her, and he settled his other hand on her knee, tracing it with his signature circles.
Charlie’s breath hitched, and she wondered if she could go nine innings with such torture. Bringing her head back to the game, she realized her client was on the mound, so she forced herself to pay attention despite the delicious touch.
“Hey, babe, you know what I just realized?” Hutch asked.
Her pitcher wound up and released the ball, and the umpire called a strike.
Yes!
“What’s that, baby?” She looked over at Hutch and found his eyes on hers, gleaming.
“This is our first real date.”
Laughter choked out of her at the ridiculous truth. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Hutch gave her a squeeze. “More importantly, you asked me out on a date,” he teased. The umpire called a second strike.
She raised a brow. “Technically, Darius did the asking.”
His comedic grimace had her laughing again. She ran her fingers down one of his cheeks and planted a kiss on the other.
“My point is,” he continued. “It’s a really good date. A Giants’ game? And these seats are killer! I think I can see the batter’s ear hair.”
If he kept her laughing like this, she was going to get a stomach ache. “Stop… please,” she begged, sagging against him. “If you behave, you can come with me tomorrow and Wednesday, too.”
His eyes went wide, and his mouth opened. “Are… you… serious?”
Charlie nodded, smiling.
“Oh my God. I have the greatest girlfriend in the world!”
At the word girlfriend, Charlie’s heart somersaulted. “I’m not sure if she’s as great as my boyfriend,” Charlie said shyly.
Hutch pulled her in for a kiss as the batter struck out.