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’98.”
    “Mr. Shelton? We’d better leave so you won’t be too late.” Henry’s voice was smooth as silk, and I swung around to face him. He’d shed his lab coat and was once again dressed in his professor sport coat.
    Thank God he hadn’t heard us fighting over him. That would have been way too embarrassing. “Yeah.” I cocked an eyebrow at Anderson and held out a hand. “Go Air Force.”
    “Ditto, friend.” His grip was strong, and he took my badge with his free hand. “See you around.”
    The day was a little overcast, but there was still enough sunlight to warm me as the doc and I headed to the car. I took advantage of the fact that I was walking behind Henry to check his ass without him seeing.
    Sweet.
    Henry unlocked the car door and got in, then reached across to unlock my side. He’d pulled on what appeared to be classic Ray-Ban Wayfarers, and I had to admit they looked good. Really good.
    I slid my fingers along the red leather on the door’s interior. “Man, the Germans could build a good-looking car. Still can, for that matter.”
    Henry turned the key, and I saw a brief, satisfied smile as he heard the now-smooth purr of the engine. “Yes, indeed.” He released the parking brake and depressed the clutch. “Where are we going?”
    I watched him deftly manipulate the column shift and was impressed despite myself. Most folks today had never even heard of the antiquated shifter on the steering-wheel column, let alone knew how to work it. Cerebral Henry hadn’t struck me as being comfortable with the tricky parts of these old babies. Huh. “The fields are over on McKinley.” I pointed to the north. “Head that way.”
    The ride was very quick. I wanted to be able to watch Henry without fear of being observed for a while longer, but all too soon we were pulling in to the parking lot of the high school athletic fields. Minivans and buses surrounded us, and for a moment I felt like I’d entered an alternate world. What the hell was I doing here—a place where families gathered, where parents came to cheer on their prodigies? Far as I knew, the ’rents probably lived vicariously through those unfortunate young souls.
    Henry braked to a stop, and the sudden quiet when he shut off the engine brought me back to myself. “Oh. We’re here,” I said inanely. I tried to recover. “That was quick.”
    Looking amused, Henry shoved open his door. “Yes. It was.”
    Damn it . Why couldn’t I have acted like one of the guys in the movies for just a little bit? Why was it that Harrison Ford could always come up with a good line or at least walk away looking like he knew what he was doing, while I just bumbled along, always failing to impress the studs?
    I slammed my door, then winced when Henry lowered his glasses and gave me an injured look. “Sorry,” I said meekly. I camouflaged my blunder by raising a hand to shade my eyes as I pretended to search for Grant. Sudden shouting from two fields away had me turning my head, and I spotted the telltale navy and gold of Grant’s team, the Lake Forest Scouts. Dad had told me the freshman squad played first, so I was hoping I hadn’t missed most of the game. Whistles blew, and just then I could see Grant as he headed toward the sideline.
    “There he is.” When Henry came to stand beside me, I immediately forgot about my nephew. Stud alert. Whoa . He even smelled good.
    “So, Mr. Shelton. Is this your sister’s son or your brother’s?”
    “Call me Nick.” Trying to appear casual, I used a sideways glance to scope him out. “My sister’s.” I felt a thrill race through me when I found him watching me.
    “Nick.” Sounded like he was tasting my name. “Is that short for Nicholas?”
    “Yeah. Except no one but my mom ever called me that. And she’s been gone a few years now.” I huffed a short laugh. “Well, there was one guy back in junior high. But I broke his nose, and that was the last time anyone tried to call me that.”
    “Really.”