Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
CHARLOTTE
Idrew in a slow breath, forcing the tension from my shoulders. Vulnerability wasn’t something I handled well. Yesterday had dragged me to a place I didn’t visit often, where my composure slipped, and control was nowhere to be found.
I hated having anyone witness my vulnerability yesterday. Especially not someone who could easily wield it against me. “I’d appreciate your discretion. About…everything yesterday.”
His brows pulled together, irritation flashing across his face. “Why the hell would I tell anyone about it?”
“That’s not what I meant.” My voice softened while my nerves ratcheted. “I just don’t like owing someone.”
Something flickered across his face. A mixture of frustration tangled with understanding. “You don’t owe me anything, Charlotte. You went into shock, which is natural after what you did yesterday. You saved a man’s life. Anyone would’ve needed time to recover, and I wanted to give you space.”
“You did,” I admitted quietly. “I suppose I should simply say thank you and leave it there instead of picking it apart.”
“You should.” His gaze sharpened. “But you’re not.” He tipped his head, a half-smirk curving at his mouth. “You’ve got trust issues.”
My lips tugged faintly, the closest thing to a smile I could muster. “Probably.”
The silence that followed thrummed, alive, charged. Finally, he exhaled and lowered himself into the visitor’s chair, leaning forward as though letting me in on something private. “Yeah, well…so do I. And if the roles were reversed, I’d probably feel the same way right about now.”
The admission hung between us, disarming in its honesty. For the first time since meeting him, it felt like we were standing on the same side.
“And what would you propose if the shoe were on the other foot?”
“Something to make it feel balanced?”
I nodded, pleased he understood.
His eyes narrowed slightly, contemplative. “If I were to ask you a favor, something which helped me, but I wouldn’t want you to go around telling people about it, would it make you feel better? Even the score?”
I arched a brow. “Maybe.”
My skepticism made us both laugh, tension bleeding out of the room. If he knew what type of favor I was picturing, he’d never look at me the same.
“My daughter,” he started, leaning back, his voice softer now.
“She has a school paper. She needs to interview a professional woman about what it took to get where she is. When I told her I had a woman as a boss, she asked if she could interview you. If you agreed to do it, then it would mean a lot to her. And…it would help me.”
“Why didn’t you just flat-out ask me?”
We answered in unison: “Trust issues.”
“I don’t like to entwine my personal and professional lives, and asking a favor felt awkward until now.”
I set my pen down. “How would it work?”
“I was thinking a baseball game.”
I couldn’t imagine working on a paper in the stands of a game.
“My father has a suite at Petco Field. Quiet, private. Samantha could do her interview while your son could come and watch the game. Maybe he’d enjoy a Saturday afternoon game?”
Austin lived and breathed baseball. “My son would absolutely love it. If it’s not too much trouble?”
“You’re the one doing me the favor, so no trouble at all.”
“Great.”
“Good.”
Awkward didn’t begin to cover the moment. Not because of the favor itself, but because I’d agreed to let my competition cross into territory I’d never even allowed a date to enter. Meeting my son.
Come Saturday, the competition greeted us as we entered the suite in jeans and a Padres jersey.
He somehow managed to appear both relaxed and unfairly attractive.
I swallowed hard at the sight of the faint scruff along his jaw, and the scent of something warm and expensive drifted toward me from his direction.
And then there was his beautiful daughter, Samantha. She appeared behind him, braces flashing as she grinned, a streak of pink cutting bold through her chestnut hair.
“Charlotte, this is my daughter, Samantha. Samantha, this is Charlotte Green.”
“It’s really nice to meet you.” Smiling, I gestured toward Austin, who stepped forward in his Padres cap and warm-up gear. “And this is my son, Austin.”
Gabriel shook Austin’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Feel free to grab some food from the buffet. They’re getting ready to start the game.”
“Yeah, that’s great.” Austin didn’t have to be told twice. Two of his favorite things were food and baseball.
Gabriel lingered behind, his tone softer than usual. “What’s the latest update with George?”
I appreciated his thoughtfulness in asking. “He’s been transferred to a skilled nursing center, already giving his wife a hard time about physical therapy.”
He smiled, the action doing funny things to my insides.
“That’s great news.”
“It is.” Whether George eventually came back to the office or chose retirement was still uncertain, but either way, I hoped he’d prioritize his health and listen to the doctors.
Samantha held her notebook and fuzzy pink pen in hand, her eyes curiously observing us. I was thankful for her presence, which gave me an excuse to turn away from Gabriel.
“Did you want to get started?” I asked.
“Sure, I’d love to if I’m not keeping you from the game?”
“You’re the only reason I agreed to come,” I admitted, which earned a small smile. I followed her toward the corner table she’d claimed.
“Are you really my dad’s boss?” She didn’t yet open her notebook.
Her curiosity was charming. “Yes, I really am.”
“What’s he like at work?”
Oh, boy. Definitely not on her teacher’s list of questions. I chose my words carefully. “I’ve only worked with him a few weeks, but I know he’s a hard worker, well respected, and the type who takes charge without being asked.”
She nodded, finally cracking open the notebook. “My teacher suggested asking questions about challenges women face in leadership, what it takes to climb the ladder, and…uh…how you handle people doubting you.”
A weight I knew too well. I leaned back, softening my expression. “Those are good questions, Samantha. Why don’t you start from the top, and I’ll answer anything you’d like.”