Incumbent(19)

“Oh.” I glanced down at my shirt and shrugged.

“Hey, Prescott!”

A booming voice came from behind us, interrupting our conversation, and Drake stood.

When I looked to my left, a very handsome man who looked a bit like Drake but younger, was standing at the end of our row next to a gorgeous fair-haired woman. She looked very familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Both were wearing—what else—red, and the woman’s hair was in a ponytail pulled through the back of a baseball cap with a W on it.

Drake stood and shook the man’s hand. “There you are.”

His voice was jubilant, and they seemed like close friends. Then he kissed the woman on the cheek and pulled her into an affectionate hug. Was she an ex? No. Why would he bring an ex here? My insides twisted, and an unwelcome wave of jealousy washed over me.

The woman’s eyes widened, and her face lit up when she saw me. “You must be Lucy. I’m Gretchen.”

My shoulders relaxed. She’s his sister. Thank God.

When I extended my hand to her, she surprised me by pulling me into an embrace much like she gave her brother. I looked over her shoulder to Drake, and the dimple that I loved appeared.

Gretchen stepped back and beamed at me. “You’re just as pretty, if not prettier, than my big brother described you.”

As I was trying to absorb the compliment, as well as the implication that Drake had told her about me, she took the seat on my right.

I was still at a loss as to who the man was. If he was with Gretchen, wouldn’t they want to sit together?

“Lucy.” Drake clapped the other man’s shoulder with his hand. “This is my younger brother, Josh.”

“Oh! You’re the chef.” I extended my hand, but he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

Drake had been telling the truth; the Prescotts really were easygoing and laid-back. I envied that. A kiss on the cheek as a greeting to someone you just met might seem forward to some, but to them it was natural.

Josh was adorable. He had a beard, more than scruff but not bushy, an earring in each ear, and colorful tattoos down his arms.

“Yes, I am.” We all took our seats and Josh leaned forward. “Make sure this guy brings you to our next Sunday dinner.”

I nodded, realizing Drake never told him he asked me to go with him, which made me feel even worse. He probably didn’t want his family to know I’d rejected him.

Drake leaned over to kiss my temple, and the brim of his cap grazed the side of my head as he told me, “We’ll be right back.”

Drake and Josh stood and walked up the steps, out of my sight.

“My brother tells me you’re a teacher.”

Gretchen was beautiful in that girl-next-door way. Her skin was flawless, and aside from mascara and light lipstick, she didn’t wear makeup.

“I am. That’s where I met Drake. He came to my class to speak.”

Pride shone in her eyes. “He’s such an amazing guy. To think he used to pull my pigtails when we were younger.” She laughed. “Now he’s everything I’d want in a man.”

Did I know what I wanted in a man? And for that matter, did I even want one?

All I could do was nod and say, “He’s very kind.”

Gretchen gave me a sympathetic look. “I know you don’t know him very well, and the senator title may be intimidating, but give him a chance.”

How much has he told her?

I grinned. “I am.”

And I was. My being here wasn’t actually giving him a chance; it was giving me one. I hadn’t allowed myself to care for anyone for a very long time.

Before anything else was said, Gretchen looked up and her eyes sparkled. She rapidly clapped her hands with glee. Drake and Josh were back, and they were loaded with ballpark treats.

“That better be for me!” Gretchen held out her hand and made the gimme sign with her fingers.

Drake handed her a large pink puff of cotton candy in a plastic bag. “Of course this is for you,” he said with a smile. The small cardboard tray in his other hand held four hotdogs and fries.

Josh sat a drink carrier in his seat with four beers in large cups. He plucked two out and handed them to me. One I passed to Gretchen, and we both tucked them in the cup holders near our seats.

“I hope you like beer and hot dogs.” Josh smiled as he situated his own drink and Drake’s before taking his seat.

“I do,” I said with a grin. “Thank you.”

Drake reached into a bag in his other hand and pulled out a red button-down jersey. “This is for you.”

He stood, careful not to step on the tray of food he had set down, and held the shirt out and turned it around to show me the back. HARPER was stitched in white lettering across the top, and the number thirty-four was under it. He held it out for me, and I slipped it on and fastened a couple of buttons on the front.

“Who’s Harper?”

Drake’s eyebrows shot up before he placed an arm around my shoulder, the weight of it warm and very welcome. With his other hand, he pointed to a player who was stretching on the grassy field.

“That’s him right there. He’s my favorite.”

He removed his arm, which I immediately missed, and pulled out a matching jersey for himself and put it on. Unlike me, he left his open in the front. All I could think of was the firm, rippled muscles I was sure were hidden under the soft cotton. To say it pleased me when he didn’t button his jersey would be an understatement.