Irresistibly Yours (Oxford #1)(50)

Janie and her mother were extroverts—they liked to talk about anything and everything, and tended to solve problems best by discussing them.

Penelope was more like her father—outgoing when they needed to be, but introverted at heart, especially when she was mulling over a problem.

“Sounds like you need to go to a thinking place, if you know what I mean,” her dad said.

Penelope sat up on the couch as inspiration struck. “Dad, I know exactly what you mean. And you’re a freaking genius.”

Ten minutes later, Penelope had hung up with her father and was out the door heading to the place where she’d always done some of her best thinking: the ballpark. Any ballpark.

She headed out to see the Mets. Partially because the Yankees were away, and partially because she’d only been to one Mets game so far, and she had yet to get a sense for the fans and the stadium.

Baseball was more than the game itself. It was also about the experience.

No two ballparks were the same, no two fan bases interchangeable. Understanding these home-team nuances was Penelope’s favorite part of the job. Yes, she was good with the stats and the plays and could probably outcall any ump…but it was the human element that had drawn her into sports in the first place. That coming together of people.

She had her pick of seats when she got to the stadium. The Mets didn’t draw the kind of crowds the Yankees did, and though she was sure the stadium could be a perfectly lovely place to experience a day game, today was overcast, with a solid promise of rain.

Penelope had planned to splurge on a ticket behind home plate but at the last minute heard herself request one along the third baseline.

It had always been one of her favorite places to watch a game. The proximity to the outfield made it feel less crowded but still close to the action.

She’d already missed first pitch by the time she got inside, but she took her time making her way toward her section. She paused in front of one of the souvenir stores. A Mets cap was one of the few team hats she didn’t own, and since it felt wrong to wear another team’s, she’d opted to go hatless for the day.

Which, at a ball game, just felt wrong. She thought about buying one, but buying a hat for oneself while at a game alone seemed sort of…sad.

Instead she settled for a hot dog and beer and made her way toward her seat. As she’d expected, there were plenty of open seats, including the ones to either side of her own.

Penelope had just settled in and taken a bite of her hot dog when the Mets second baseman sent a line drive up the first-base foul line, and the crowd erupted in cheers when the ump ruled it a fair ball.

Penelope happily chewed her hot dog, watching as the runner on second rounded third and started the desperate race to beat the right fielder’s throw to home plate.

It was one of the best moments to watch in any game. The runner’s dramatic slide, the catcher’s desperate tag, then that heartbeat of wait before the ump’s ruling of…

Safe.

The Mets were on the board, and the enthusiastic fan in front of Penelope went nuts, throwing both his hands in the air in his excitement.

The only problem?

One of those hands was holding a very full bag of popcorn.

And in a rather dazed, slow-motion fashion, Penelope found herself covered in puffy, buttery popcorn kernels.

“Oh, I’m soo sorry! I’m sooo sorry!”

The apology was every bit as enthusiastic as the cheering had been, and Penelope found herself smiling as she glanced up at the popcorn thrower.

Her heart broke just a little at his red-faced embarrassment. His blue eyes were wide with dismay as he looked at her butter-splattered T-shirt, and Penelope was desperate to make him feel better.

She picked up a couple pieces of popcorn off her lap and tossed them into her mouth. “Nice of you to share with me!”

His smile lit up his entire face. It was impossible not to smile back. The man had short sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and the distinctive features of someone with Down syndrome.

So immersed was Penelope in his happy, relieved smile, it didn’t immediately register that her popcorn thrower wasn’t alone.

Or that she recognized the man with him.

“Cole?”

He turned around, noticing her with an expression that fell somewhere among shock, dismay, and wariness.

“You know my brother?” Popcorn Thrower asked happily.

Brother. This was Cole’s brother.

“Penelope and I work together,” Cole said, shifting his attention back to his brother. “Penelope, this is Bobby.”

“I’m his big brother!” Bobby said, sticking out a hand for her to shake.

“Ah, then I bet you know all his secrets, huh? You may just become my next best friend.”

“Cole’s my best friend,” Bobby responded immediately. “But you could be my second best friend. After Andy. And Sara. And Joyce. And—”

“I’m sure Penelope will be thrilled just to be on the long list, bud,” Cole said. “But maybe we should hand her some of our napkins?”

Bobby turned around and rifled around the front pocket of his sweatshirt and came up with a handful of napkins. Penelope took them, although it was really too late to do much other than swipe at the remaining kernels. The butter had already left an oily tie-dyed pattern all over her shirt and jeans.

Bobby had become distracted by a double play on the field, but Cole was still watching her. The shock had faded, and maybe some of the dismay, but he was definitely still wary. Because she was crashing his time with his brother?