Page 34 of Miss Manage

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.”