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Henry propped himself against the glossy black fender and pulled the stylish tortoiseshell sunglasses off. He stared at me speculatively. “So, if I were to call you Nicholas, you wouldn’t like it?” He stuck one arm of the glasses between his teeth.
    “Er.” Well, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like it, to be honest. “I…I guess it’s okay. You sure you don’t want to use Nick?”
    “As long as you don’t try to break my nose, I think I’ll stick with your full name, Nicholas.”
    It did kind of sound different when he said it. Not at all like the way my mom used to accent every frigging syllable when she was pissed at me. A shiver ran down my spine, and I could feel my dick twitch. Great. Just great timing. Kids and school buses all over the place, and here I was getting a boner.
    “I’d better get going.”
    Henry nodded and slid his glasses back on. “Yes. Let’s.” He motioned with one hand, and I automatically turned and began walking toward the field.
    Wait. What the heck? I looked at him with a frown. “Don’t you have to get back to your office?” He was pacing next to me, his longer legs slowing a hair to match my stride.
    “Not just yet. I thought I might stay a little longer.” This time, when he tilted his head toward me, I most definitely saw he was checking me out.
    Oh yeah. The day was looking up.
    But I felt conspicuous in my garage coveralls as we neared the field. I should have taken them off before I left the shop. The medium-blue fabric—and the grease marks on it—struck me as sore thumbish compared to the sport coat and bow tie look Henry had going on. Not to mention the Lake Forest matrons who were sitting in their nylon folding chairs or standing near the sidelines. Those gals looked like they’d just come from the hair salon, for God’s sake.
    At least the coaches weren’t dressed up. I moved closer to them and zipped my jacket.
    The afternoon sun was shining, and the temperature was hovering around sixty-five. We were getting a little bit of Indian summer, which was sweet. Next week the temps were supposed to drop like a rock.
    I could tell the moment Grant spotted me. He was trotting along the sideline behind a couple of his teammates. There was a hesitation in his stride for a step or two as he darted a glance my way before he sped up toward the goal. I leaned toward one of the moms standing near me. “What’s the score?”
    She looked me over, then slid her gaze to Henry, who was a couple of feet away. “It’s two-zero. We’re ahead.” Her blonde head turned toward the field, then back to me. “Which one is your son?”
    “Uh. My nephew.” I pointed at Grant. “He’s the goalie.”
    “Oh.” Her voice warmed up. “He just saved us. Niles was almost going to score, but Grant grabbed it just in time.” She smiled warmly and held out a hand. “I’m Suzie Baumgarten.”
    “Nick Shelton.”
    Suzie reached past me. “Hi.” Her hand hung in the air for a second before Henry accepted it.
    “Henry Travis.”
    “You look a little familiar, Henry.” Suzie’s eyebrows scrunched, and she scooped her chin-length hair behind one ear. “Have we met?”
    “Not that I recall.” Henry pushed his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose. He looked a little unapproachable. Maybe he was regretting giving me a ride.
    That would suck.
    Cheers from our side of the field interrupted. I focused on the game in time to see guys in blue and gold driving the ball down the field toward the Niles West goalie. I flicked a glance at Grant and spotted him yelling encouragement to his teammates. Who knew? The kid actually looked like he was enjoying himself.
    The ball was stolen by one of the Niles players, and with a speed I could only envy, the play moved back toward the Lake Forest goal. I found myself forgetting to inhale as they got nearer to Grant. I muttered under my breath, “You can do it. You can do it.”
    The ball got passed right near the marker for the goal zone.