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She breathed deeply to relax, wishing her brain didn’t run in circles around itself. Unfortunately, the chase would probably continue at a fast pace until the interviews for the magazine article were completed.
* * *
BARTON PARKED NEAR the Moonlight Ventures Agency…out of easy view from the windows and double doors. The glass was tinted and had a reflective quality, so while he couldn’t see inside, Chelsea could probably observe everything going on outside.
He wanted time to think his plan through again. In his pocket were two tickets to the Mariners game that night. Considering the discussion about the Mariners at Saturday’s dinner, it seemed okay to ask Chelsea to go with him.
Heck, there was no point in overthinking everything.
Getting out of his car, Barton strode toward the door and opened it, hearing a soft chime as he entered.
Chelsea turned from the computer at the right side of the wide, curving reception desk.
“Barton. Hi.” Her face was pink, perhaps from surprise. “Why aren’t you teaching your class?”
“A truck hit a transformer near the school and knocked out the power, so we closed early. I hope it was okay to drop by to see you.”
“It shouldn’t be a problem. What’s up?”
“A parent gave me tickets for the ballgame when he came to pick up his son—they aren’t able to go themselves—so I was wondering if you’d like to see Safeco Field tonight.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Doesn’t someone in your family want to go with you?”
“Naw, my brother has season tickets and my folks aren’t into baseball. Please come. It’s more fun watching a game with a friend.”
“Oh. That’s awful nice of you. I’d love to.”
He grinned. “Great. This is my chance to win over another fan for the home team.”
She laughed. “Subversive tactics?”
“At least I’m being up-front about my motives.” Yet he knew he wasn’t being completely up-front. After a long period of keeping his head down and ignoring the possibility of making new friends, he wanted to get back to his old self. Maybe not jump into romance, but friendship seemed good. Easier said than done, though.
“What time?” Chelsea asked. “I don’t get off until five and it takes fifteen minutes to drive home. Longer if I hit traffic.”
“We’ll leave as soon as you get there. The game starts after seven, but earlier is better for parking.”
“I wouldn’t want to hold you up or anything, so go without me if that’s best.”
“We’ll make it work. Don’t eat anything. Safeco has great food for dinner.”
“I’ve heard about the garlic fries.”
“They’re terrific.” Barton began relaxing. Chelsea was treating this like two friends going to a game. He’d once taken a woman on a first date to Safeco and she’d acted as if even suggesting garlic fries was death to romance. At least he’d found out right away that they weren’t compatible. As for Chelsea’s views? There was no way of knowing, but he was ready to let a friendship develop without pushing another agenda.
“I’ll get out of here so I don’t interfere with your work,” he said. “I come this way from the school, so I took a chance on dropping by instead of waiting to call once I got home.”
“I’m glad you did.”
He left with a wave and drove to his house whistling. This was definitely better than the funk he’d been living in for so long.
Leaving the car in the driveway for a quick departure later, he went through the front door to find Spike careening through the house with a yowl.
“Hey, buddy.”
Spike turned his big striped head to one side, then suddenly leaped into the air. Barton barely managed to catch him. The cat had never done it before, but now he looked self-satisfied and purred his loud motorboat rumble.
It might be a coincidence, but maybe Spike also recognized his human was feeling differently. For a while after Barton’s marriage splintered, it had seemed as if nothing would be normal or good again.
It was nice to know he’d been wrong.
* * *
JORDAN WIPED PERSPIRATION from his forehead. The unseasonably warm weather shouldn’t be a problem; after all, he’d just gotten back from Fiji where he’d never dressed in more than shorts and a T-shirt. Maybe his discomfort was from commiseration with the models, who were wearing heavy winter jackets under hot lights.
