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The Pick-Up Game

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The football lands amid Jo's carefully placed picnic, knocking the thermos of lemonade into the peach pie.

"Oh, oh God, I am so sorry!" says a breathless voice from behind her.

She turns to see the person who ruined her lunch. He's kind of short and starting to go bald in a totally adorable way, and the expression on his face is nothing if not sincere.

"It's fine," she answers, hoping her annoyance can't be heard. She picks up the football and wipes the egg salad off with a gingham napkin. "Here." She tosses the ball back to the guy.

"Not a bad throw," he says, looking at the ball. "We've got a pick-up game going, if you're interested."

Jo looks down at her meal. The pie is ruined, and the lemonade is already making a river down the picnic blanket. Ants are starting to investigate the ham sandwiches. She looks back at the guy. "Why not?"

The guy grins. "Great. I'm Charlie, by the way."