Free An Accidental Gentleman by M.Q. Barber Page A

chain-link backstops and sidelines. Crawling down the aisle, she spied a flash of red beyond the pickup trucks and minivans. Her sister’s boxy beige Camry fit alongside at the end of the row. Shabby as all hell, but none of these folks would see her again.
    She hopped out and stretched. The breeze carried shouts, laughter, and the smoky char of burgers and dogs on the grill. The clouds dotting the bright blue sky kept the heat at bay. Saturdays didn’t get much better. Pocketing her keys, she joined the stream.
    As she rounded a monster of an extended cab, Brian barreled into her and hoisted her off her feet.
    “You made it, great.” He set her down easy, kissed her cheek, and grinned. “When you didn’t answer my last text, I thought you might’ve changed your mind.”
    “I might yet.” Picking her up, Jesus. Treating her like a damn date. “We agreed you weren’t going to make a thing out of this.”
    His eyes flickered, but he held steady on his megawatt smile. “No, I greet all the women I know with inappropriate displays. You should’ve seen the kiss I planted on Rob’s wife.” Elbowing her in the side, he pointed toward a couple sitting on a set of short-stack metal bleachers. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”
    In the swarm of jeans and khaki shorts, Brian made an eye-piercing statement with his knee-length paint explosion. The swirling purples, yellows, and greens resembled a five-year-old’s summer camp tie-dye project. He’d misstepped with the kiss, but no man seriously on a date would wear those shorts.
    “Can’t wait.” She allowed him to drag her off to happy coupleland. No sense tanking the day in the first minute when the food and beer were free and she’d borrowed the car and driven out here. A shiny business park, the kind with mirrored buildings, sat behind a fence a few hundred yards off. “That where you work?”
    “Yep. That’s where they keep all the secrets.” As he led her through the crowd, he offered nods and greetings to most of the adults by name and not a few high-fives to the kids. “Lot of us came over together when we left the service.”
    The brown-haired man broke off whispering in the woman’s ear and stood as they approached. “You find her, or she find you? Your shorts are so bright the sats are tracking you from ten thousand miles up.”
    “My lucky shorts, man.” Hands shoved in his pockets, Brian spread the wide-leg cotton and spun. “These babies are gonna bring us in at least an extra two runs. Maybe three.”
    The shorts absolutely qualified as a nightmare. But his ass in them? Begging for a squeeze. “Sounds like bragging to me, hotshot.”
    Brian pouted. “Would I do that?”
    “Yes.” Three voices mingled in the answer, hers and the couple’s. They wore matching wedding bands. Forty-some people at softball. Not a date, he’d said. Except he took her straight to double-datesville.
    “Ganging up on me already. Should’ve known this would be a bad idea.” Grinning, he clapped her shoulder. “Kit, meet Rob and Nora. He works in encryption; she crunches numbers. Together, they—”
    “Prefer not to hear the end of that sentence when Brian’s the one delivering it,” Nora broke in, her smile friendly and her caramel-colored ponytail swinging.
    Brian dropped his head back and raised his arms in a what gives to the heavens. “Kit runs that repair shop in town I was telling you about. We’re not on a date.”
    The man did not do subtle. Should’ve figured on brash from his red car and riot shorts. Plenty of scuff marks in the dirt as she added a few more. The divot in front of the aluminum bleacher support needed smoothing.
    “Right, right.” Rob stuck out his arm. “The woman who knows her way around a flat tire.” He offered a firm handshake, short and to the point. “Rob Vanderhoff. Brian and I have worked together since he couldn’t put his cap on straight to save his life.”
    As Rob spoke, Brian swung his head in wide denials.