His Illegitimate Heir by Sarah M. Anderson

not a date. She didn’t care what he thought of her appearance. “We could fix that,” she told him, waving at the T-shirt sellers hawking all sorts of Rockies gear. He scrunched his nose at her. “Or not,” she said with a melodramatic sigh, trying to get her wits about her. “It’s still better than a suit. Come on. We need to get in if we want to grab a beer before the game starts.”
    He looked around. People in purple hats and T-shirts were making their way inside and he was already getting a few funny looks. “This is literally your home turf. Lead on.”
    She headed toward the turnstiles. Zeb made a move toward one with a shorter line, but Casey put her hand on his arm. “This one,” she told him, guiding him toward Joel’s line.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou’ll see.” At this cryptic statement, Zeb gave her a hard look. Oddly enough, it didn’t carry as much weight as it might have if he’d been in a tie, surrounded by all the brewery history in his office. Instead, he looked almost...adorable.
    Crap, this was bad. She absolutely couldn’t be thinking of Zebadiah Richards as adorable. Or hot. Or...anything.
    There might have been some grumbling following that statement, but Casey decided that she probably shouldn’t get into a shouting match with him before they’d even gotten inside the stadium.
    The line moved quickly and then Joel said, “Casey! There’s my girl.”
    â€œHey, Joel,” she said, leaning over to give the old man a quick hug.
    â€œWhere’s Carl?” Joel asked, eyeing Zeb behind her.
    â€œUnion meeting. Who do you think’s going to win today?” She and Joel had the same conversation at nearly every game.
    â€œYou have to ask? The Braves are weak this season.” Then he noticed Richards’s shirt behind her and his easy smile twisted into a grimace of disapproval. He leaned over and grabbed two of the special promotion items—bobblehead dolls of the team. “Take one to your dad. I know he collects them.”
    â€œAw, thanks, Joel. And give my best to Martha, okay?”
    Joel gave a bobblehead to Richards, as well. “Good luck, fella,” he muttered.
    When they were several feet away, Richards said, “I see what you mean about blending. Do you want this?” He held out the bobblehead.
    â€œI’m good. Two is my personal limit on these things. Give it to Jamal or something.” She led him over to her favorite beer vendor. “Speaking of, where is Jamal? I thought you might bring him.”
    Honestly, she couldn’t decide if she’d wanted Jamal to be here or not. If he had been, then maybe she’d have been able to focus on not focusing on Zeb a little better. Three was a crowd, after all.
    But still...she was glad Zeb had come alone.
    This time, he held back and waited until she picked the beer line. “He’s still unpacking.”
    â€œOh?” There were about six people in front of them. This game was going to be nowhere near a sellout. “So you really did move out here?”
    â€œOf course.” He slid her a side glance. “I said that at the press conference, you know.”
    They moved up a step in line. Casey decided that it was probably best not to admit that she hadn’t been paying attention during the press conference. “So where are you guys at?”
    â€œI bought a house over on Cedar Avenue. Jamal picked it out because he liked the kitchen.”
    Her eyes bugged out of her head. “You bought the mansion by the country club?”
    â€œYou know it?” He said it in such a casual way, as if buying the most expensive house in the Denver area were no biggie.
    Well, maybe for him, it wasn’t. Why was she surprised? She shouldn’t have been. She wasn’t. Someone like Zeb Richards would definitely plunk down nearly $10 million for a house and not think anything of it. “Yeah.