“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” The blond woman next to the girl gazed between her daughter and me. Or at least I assumed they were mother and daughter. The woman met my eye. “I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s okay.” I tried to continue to smile. “Your daughter is very sweet.” I sought the right word. “Charming.”
She rolled her eyes. “My daughter is headstrong—much like her father.” The woman stuck out her hand. “Becca. My lug is the blindside flanker, Roger. And this,” she pressed a hand to her daughter’s shoulder, “Is Cassandra. The bane of my existence.”
Inwardly I winced even as I shook her hand.
Cassandra rolled her eyes. “You know you love me.”
The crowd emitted another roar.
“Oh, sorry.” I pointed to the field. “I made you miss some of the game.”
Becca waved me off. “I’ve been doing this a long time.” She pressed her hand to what I now saw was a distended belly. “Number five. Going to be a kicker like his father.”
“And me.” Cassandra grinned. “I’m going to play rugby. You know, they have an Olympic women’s team. Ten years? I’m on it.”
Holy crap. “That’s…amazing.”
“What’s your name?”
“Uh…Travis.”Because Badarse isn’t likely to go over well. On second thought, I think feisty Cassandra would laugh.
Cassandra stuck out her hand. “I’m Cassandra. Not Cassie.” She eyed me.
“Not Cassie.” I said the words with true solemnity. Somehow I got the feeling this pint-sized child would tear a strip off me if I got it wrong. She truly appeared fearless.
“Are you here to see someone or just to catch the game?” Becca tipped her raincoat back so the gathering moisture trickled down the hood toward her back.
A reminder the rain was soaking us.
“Uh…”Oh fuck it. “I’ve met the, uh, fullback?”
Her face broke into a big grin.
Before she could respond, Cassandra whooped. “You know Uncle Isaiah? How cool is that? Are you coming to meet him after the game?”
“Uh…” Truthfully, I hadn’t thought that far in advance. I’d just…shown up without a plan.
“Of course he’s coming with us.” Becca offered a brilliant smile.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Another roar from the crowd.
Becca beckoned to the empty chair next to Cassandra. “I was supposed to bring my son, Tristan, but he’s got a cold. I didn’t have time to find anyone else. Our seats have a bit more protection from the rain.”
The difference was infinitesimal, but the offer meant everything.
I moved and sat next to Cassandra as she and Becca had retaken their seats.
Becca offered me a smile over Cassandra’s head. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too.”
Chapter Eight
Isaiah