I kept smiling because Charlie was throwing me looks over his shoulder every now and then, but I was pissed. “You don’t get to make those decisions. Caine is probably at this game.”

“So what?” she snapped.

I looked away, drinking in the sight of all the vendors underneath the bleachers, and inhaling the smell of fast food, popcorn, and beer. People sat in benches outside the vendors eating and laughing. There wasn’t anything quite like the atmosphere at Fenway, and I realized that one of the reasons I loved coming here was that it gave me that feeling family was supposed to give me—that warmth, that unity. It was a sweet place to be on game night.

“You’re mad.”

“Yes,” I admitted. “Caine and I may be—”

“Nothing. You and Caine are nothing.”

“Not true.” I scowled. “We’re exclusive.”

She sighed. “Look, even if he’s here, so are at least twenty thousand other people. I’m pretty sure there’s a snowball’s chance in hell he’ll see you, considering he’s probably up on EMC level.”

My expression confirmed her suspicion.

“Good. Now that that’s out of the way, come and let Charlie buy you a beer and a hot dog.”

Under silent protest I went with her.

Charlie smiled his cute smile and waved to the nearest hot dog vendor. “Can I buy you dinner?”

Guilt slammed through me. This was so a date. I couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t. Bad, Lexie, bad, bad, Lexie. I glanced over my shoulder, certain that at any moment Caine would appear and make me feel even worse. “You know what?” I gave Charlie a friendly smile (there would be no flirting or encouraging of the flirting!) “Why don’t we just take our seats? The vendor guys run up and down the field box every few minutes. We’ll just grab them then.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We started walking back the way we came, turning right under the bleachers toward our field box. Rachel and Jeff settled back, giving Charlie space with me. I could have punched them both.

“So … Rachel says you’re a personal assistant?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and threw me a coaxing smile.

There was something about his manner that suggested he was nervous.

Great.

I felt even worse.

“Uh, yeah.” I was not getting into that. “What do you do?” Jeff worked in advertising, but I knew from listening to him that there were a lot of different job positions in the agency.

“I’m with the art department.”

“Oh, that’s great. I always wished I’d spent more time on art at school. I enjoyed drawing, but that’s as far as my skills go.”

“You’re creative?”

I thought about it. “I don’t think I’m creative per se. Organized. Very organized. And I think I have a good eye. You know, I always wanted to be an events planner and combine the two.”

He shrugged. “So why don’t you?”

“Don’t I what?”

“Be an events planner.”

I laughed. “Like it’s that simple.”

“All you have to do is get that one great client to give you a shot, and a glowing reference could kick-start your company.”

I stared at him incredulously. “I don’t think it’s that easy.”

Charlie smiled. “I don’t think you know if it’s that easy. You’ve never tried to give it a shot.”

“Because I’m a personal assistant. I organize things for one person.”

“Caine Carraway.” He nodded and just hearing the name sent another shard of guilt stabbing into my gut. “If you can organize the life of someone as prominent as Carraway, you can organize a party or two.”

“We just met and you’re already giving me career advice. How did that happen?”

“Sorry.” He shot me a sheepish look and flicked his silky brown hair out of his blue eyes. So cute. It was a definite shame we hadn’t met months ago. “I have a tendency to do that. I should have been a guidance counselor.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I’m used to getting advice about my career.” Or at least I’d grown used to hearing all about it from Grandpa and Rachel since I started working with Caine.

Charlie’s gaze questioned my enigmatic comment, but before he could say anything Rachel bounced in between us like an excited teenager. “This way!”

I chuckled and threw Jeff a look.

He shrugged. “She gets like this when we have a babysitter.” He grinned and strode after her up the concrete slope into the light of the bleacher stands.

“After you.” Charlie gestured.

I blinked against the late-afternoon sun, and then spotted Rach and Jeff heading left toward the field box. I didn’t wait for Charlie to catch up before taking off after them. I wanted to be clear in the most diplomatic and least cruel way possible that this date was a nonstarter.

When I took my seat beside Jeff, I ignored the sight of a bunch of people getting their picture taken at home plate with the Red Sox mascot, Wally the Green Monster, and waited for Charlie to take his seat beside me. He got settled in, smiled at me, and let his eyes drift down over my legs. I was wearing a Red Sox girly-fit T-shirt and jean shorts.

Practically my entire body was blushing by the time he was done checking me out.

And that was when I decided the least cruel way was the most honest way.