Hawk: The Boys of Summer #4

by Heidi McLaughlin

  Returning to the task at hand, I attempt to focus on the winter clean-up that must happen. My mind is elsewhere though, thinking about the man I met earlier and how he changed my son’s day. Of course, I hear Karter’s voice inside my head, telling me that he’s single, and that I should call him . . . which I absolutely shouldn’t do. However, I want to thank him for what he did.

  I finally give up on the overgrown weeds and head into my house to clean up and make dinner. The options are limited and the longer I stand in my kitchen with the refrigerator door open, the more I realize that I need to spend some serious time walking the aisles of the grocery store to restock everything.

  “Dinner out it is,” I say to myself. I think tonight calls for pizza. Downtown has a great place called The Depot. It’s family friendly and Chase loves their pizza because it’s not heavy on the sauce. I prefer their white pizza with pesto, chicken and broccoli, which I know Chase won’t touch. The Depot always has an arcade, all you can eat soft serve, and a great salad bar. It’s the perfect way to end the night.

  When I hear Chase in the garage, I open the door and greet him. He’s still smiling and it’s the best sight ever. “Good day?”

  “Great day,” he replies as he comes into the kitchen. He sets his glove down on the table and sighs happily. “I made friends today.”

  “You certainly did, bud. Why don’t you go wash up and we’ll go out for pizza?” He nods in agreement and takes off down the hall. I will never understand why life has to be so hard. The boys he was with earlier are in his class, in our neighborhood. They see each other every day in school and on the playground. But, it’s people like Brett Larsen who put this divide between the kids and the adults, who makes it seem like if you don’t follow his path, you don’t belong.

  I want to belong.

  I want my son to belong.

  I’m ready to go when Chase comes out of the bedroom with clean clothes on. The dirt smudges on his face were cute, but I’m happy he washed them off. All the way into town, he prattles on about Hawk and how cool he is and how he can’t wait to see him again tomorrow. Technically, I could see him to tomorrow too, or at least talk to him if I find out the asking price on the land. Surprisingly, the thought of speaking to him elates me, and I know it’s because I want to thank him for spending time with my son.

  Once we’re parked, Chase is leading the way into the restaurant. He tells the hostess that we need a table for two and follows behind her to our seats. The confidence he’s showing is new, and I like it a lot.

  “Hey, Mr. Sinclair!” Chase yells out as we’re making our way to our table. My steps falter as Hawk’s eyes meet mine. He smiles and my lady bits jump for freaking joy. I try to smile back, but by the look on his face, I guess I must be more grimacing than smiling because he looks embarrassed.

  “Hi, Chase. It’s good to see you again.”

  “This is my mom,” my son says, pointing toward me.

  “Chase, I met Mr. Sinclair this morning. He was riding a horse.” He was riding a horse . . . What the hell is wrong with me? Did I suddenly turn into Baby from Dirty Dancing with her whole, “I carried a watermelon” line?

  “You ride horses?” Hawk laughs and for the life me, I hope he’s laughing at my son’s excitement of the fact that his idol can not only pitch but also ride a horse, and not my ridiculous commentary.

  “Yeah, I do. Have you ever been on one?”

  Chase shakes his head so fast I fear he’s jarring his teeth loose. “Mom, can I ride a horse?”

  “Sure, bud. Someday.”

  The hostess taps her foot, getting my attention. She holds up the menus and then places them on the table, a few away from where Hawk is sitting. “Bud, our seats are over there.”

  “You can join me if you want,” Hawk says and once again we’re making eye contact and my palms are sweating, my mouth is incredibly parched, and the devilish side of my conscious is saying things that aren’t acceptable for others to hear in public.

  “Um . . .”

  “My nephew is with me if that helps you make a decision.”

  “Oh, you have a nephew?” I cringe. Of course, he does, and I know this. If the black hole of mortification could swallow me up, I’d appreciate the help in ending my awkwardness. It seems that’s the only way I know how to be around this man. “I’m sorry, I don’t know . . .”

  He laughs but doesn’t miss a beat when he stands, comes over to the side where I’m standing, and pulls out the chair. “Nolan and I would really like it if you and Chase joined us for dinner.”

  “We don’t want to intrude.”

  “Hey, Chase!”

  I follow the voice saying my son’s name. This kid is smiling as he comes toward Chase and when he calls his friend “Nolan” in response, I know there’s no way in hell I’m going anywhere. I find myself, once again, staring at the man beside me. He’s dressed differently from before. Gone are the long sleeves, replaced by short ones which show off the muscles I suspected he had, along with full arm of tattoos. I try not to gawk, but there’s no use in denying that I think Hawk is sexy.

  “Looks like you’re about to join us for dinner,” he says so only I can hear him.

  “Looks that way.” I take the seat being offered and set my purse down on the floor. Hawk introduces me to his nephew before handing the boys a cup of tokens and telling them to scram.

  “How much do I owe you for those tokens?”

  “Not a single thing,” he says as he leans back in his chair.

  “Okay, then. How much do I owe you for putting a smile on my son’s face?”

  Hawk’s demeanor changes and he leans forward. “About that . . . what can you tell me about the Little League program?”

  I swallow hard and try not to think about the possible ramifications of what I’m about to say. He helped my son and that tells me Hawk is one of the good guys.

  Thirteen

  Hawk

  Almost everything about today has left a bad taste in my mouth. I know I shouldn’t get involved in town politics because I don’t live here. I shouldn’t care that some big box store is putting the little guy out of business. Nor should it matter how the parents run the Little League program, but that’s not who I am. It never has been. Back in high school, I ran for school president when I was a freshman, which was unheard of. Most underclassmen only run for their class. Not me. I wanted the top prize. I lost by one vote and that was the last time I lost. It’s in my nature to care, to butt in when my opinion isn’t asked for, and to make sure my stance on any and everything is heard loud and clear. So, I intend to figure out what’s going on around here because seeing those boys standing there, longing to be on the field with their friends, was wrong. They should’ve been playing. All of this was evident when I asked them if they’d like to play catch and their faces lit up like it was Christmas morning.

  The entire time I worked with them, Brett was lurking in the shadows. I was half tempted to call him out, ask him to join us, but the thought of having to spend another minute with him turned my stomach. I can’t quite figure him out and I’m not sure I should try. Our friendship came to blows many years ago and some things are better left where they died.

  My nephew, though, man can he pitch! The kid is already trying to master the knuckle ball and suggested I teach the other boys, which was pretty hard to do with my left hand, but a few of them got it. The whole group of them was eager to learn, which again, put me on edge because they should be out there playing. That’s why I had the fields built — to give the youth a chance to be kids and not have to act so grown up all the time.

  Once the other boys left and the park started clearing out, Nolan and I hung out a little longer. He wanted to practice his batting stance and after rummaging through the shed, I found a bucket of balls. I dumped them out on home plate, flipped the bucket over so I could sit on it and tossed balls to my nephew until the sun went down. Afterward, because he knows me so well, he suggested we get pizza.


  Which is how we’ve ended up at The Depot, and now the pretty real estate lady is being led to a table by the hostess and her son, Chase. What a character Chase is. That little guy is so eager to learn that he soaked up everything I taught him today and asked if we could do it again tomorrow. Of course, I said yes, which delighted Nolan.

  I watch Chase and his mom as they come closer, wondering if I should say something or if she will. Earlier this morning, I was a bit tongue-tied when speaking to her. I wasn’t expecting to find someone out in the middle of nowhere, let alone a beautiful woman. I can’t even remember what I said to her, I just know I gave her my phone number, hoping she’d call.

  She hasn’t.

  It’s like they’re walking in slow motion, knowing that I’m contemplating my next move and purposely giving me time to figure out a way to get their attention. I could stand up, wave my one good arm and cause a scene. Or I could sit here and wait for Nolan to come back from the bathroom and pay my nephew to go talk to them for me. The latter sounds like the best plan.

  “Hey, Mr. Sinclair.” I look up from the menu when I hear my name and try not to smile. I love this kid. He did exactly what I couldn’t do. The best part about this situation? His mother stops right behind him. The worst part? I look at her, really study her, and find the prim and proper lady from this morning is gone, and in her place is someone that I’m extremely attracted to although I don’t know why. I know nothing about her, yet I feel like she’s been part of my life for as long as I can remember. It’s odd, I’ve never felt this way before and I find myself glancing back and forth between her and her ring finger. Nothing, not even a faint line. I want to invite them to sit down and give the boys my wallet, so they’ll leave us alone, because every part of me wants to know everything there is to know about this woman.

  She smiles and I realize I’m staring like a crazy ass stalker. I turn away and mumble, “Hi, Chase. It’s good to see you again.”

  “This is my Mom.” He points to the blonde bombshell standing behind him, who is wearing an old college sweatshirt with her hair in a bun and barely any make-up on.

  “Chase, I met Mr. Sinclair this morning. He was riding a horse,” she says as her face morphs into pure mortification. I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s such a random thing to say, but I love that she blurted it out.

  “You ride horses?” Chase is overly excited about this fact, which I find odd since he lives in Montana and most people out here ride horses.

  “Yeah, I do. Have you ever been on one?”

  Chase’s head goes back and forth so fast, my eyes are having a hard time keeping up with him. “Mom, can I ride a horse?” he turns to her.

  “Sure, bud. Someday,” she says endearingly to him. I know in this moment it’s going to happen because I’m going to make sure Chase has the opportunity. “Bud, our seats are over there.”

  “You can join me if you want?” I try to make my voice as even as possible, without a hint of desperation, but it rises at the end like a prepubescent boy getting excited.

  “Um . . .”

  “My nephew is with me if that helps you make a decision.”

  “Oh, you have a nephew?” She immediately covers her face. Damn, she’s cute when she’s blushing, which is often considering how awkward our encounters have been. “I’m sorry, I don’t know . . .”

  I can’t contain my laughter and I don’t want to torture her anymore. I stand, move behind her, and pull out her chair. “Nolan and I would really like it if you and Chase joined us for dinner.”

  “We don’t want to intrude.”

  “Hey, Chase!” Saved by my nephew. Although, he’s only a temporary distraction. Being this close to her, I can smell her perfume. The sweet scent sends my thoughts into overdrive and makes my mouth water with anticipation of a goodnight kiss at her car door when we leave, which is not going to happen. Something tells me that Bellamy isn’t a kiss and run kind of gal. I clear my mind of all the thoughts I have about her and try to pay attention to the boys. This lasts for about ten seconds when I turn slightly to see if she’s going to sit down. She’s staring, boring holes into me. Not out of anger, but attraction. I can see the desire in her eyes and start to think that maybe a kiss later isn’t out of the question.

  “Looks like you’re about to join us for dinner.” My words come out too softly and I fear that she’s going to tell me no, but she doesn’t.

  “Looks that way.”

  She sits down and I go back to my seat, jamming my thigh into the corner of the table. It fucking hurts and if I were anywhere else, I’d let everyone around me know. I bite the inside of my cheek and grunt through the pain.

  “Bellamy, this is my nephew, Nolan.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says.

  “You too, Nolan.”

  “Here.” I hand the boys a cup of tokens. “I’ll come get you when the pizza arrives. Stay together, buddy system and all that.” Nolan and Chase walk side-by-side, bumping shoulders. I want to ask his mom if he has trouble in school, with making friends, but don’t want to seem like I’m nosey. The boy gives off a vibe that he’s lonely.

  “How much do I owe you for those tokens?”

  “Not a single thing.” I lean back in the chair and stretch my legs out under the table. I probably look like a fool. I definitely feel like one. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking right now with me kicked back, my arm in a sling, looking like some roughed up gangster.

  “Okay, then.” She smiles. “How much do I owe you for putting a smile on my son’s face?”

  I know my features change when she says this. It’s my opening and I’m going to take it. I lean forward. “About that . . . what can you tell me about the Little League program?”

  My question has caught her off guard, which wasn’t my plan. Bellamy Patrick is easy to read. There’s definitely something going on here and it involves her son.

  “I grew up here,” she starts off. “Left after high school, went to college in Washington, fell in love, got married, had a kid and subsequently fell out of love.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Actually, I should be. I’m sorry, you asked about Little League and here I am giving you a recap of my life story.”

  “I’ve enjoyed it so far,” I tell her. “Please continue.”

  “Right,” she says, smiling. “Where was I? Oh, after my divorce, I thought raising Chase here would be a good thing. We moved shortly after the baseball season started last year. Obviously, we missed try-outs, but Brett said Chase had potential and that I should send him to these camps and clinics. Plus, Brett holds these open practices or whatever and the kids can go work out with him. Whatever Chase asked to do, I did. We were both confident that he’d make the team this year.”

  “And he didn’t?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope and when I ask Brett . . .” she pauses, looks down at the table and sighs. “Anyway, Brett says he needs to work harder.”

  The waitress arrives at our table, poised to take our order. “Do you know what you want?” I ask Bellamy. She nods and tells me. “Okay, we’ll have a large cheese, large white and a family salad.”

  “And to drink?”

  I glance at Bellamy. “Chase can drink soda if Nolan can.”

  “Four sodas,” I tell the waitress. Once she’s gone, my attention is back on the beautiful woman across from me. “When I had those fields built, it was so kids had a place to play. When I was growing up, we played at my parent’s ranch. My dad cleared a space, we put some bleachers in which were no more than 4 x 10’s or whatever they were, sitting on stumps. But we lined the field and played until dark. My mom would even run this makeshift concession stand. After I went to college, my dad let the grass grow over it, which was fine because once I signed my deal, I had those fields done up.

  “Anyway, my point is, Chase should be playing, and I don’t understand why there are kids without a team right now.”

  Bellamy looks around, her facing growing g
rim. I reach my hand across the table and give hers a squeeze. “I’ve probably said too much as it is.”

  “You haven’t said anything other than your son didn’t make the team, which I think is bullshit since I’ve seen him play. He’s smart, a total sponge when it came to soaking up what I taught him today and is more than eager to play. That’s exactly what coaches want in a player. So, my question was and still is, what do you know about the program?”

  “It’s corrupt. It’s a popularity game. Most of the kids on the team are bullies and I think that’s because of the mentality Brett Larsen has. He’s a creep and trying to ruin my career, which means he’ll probably try to ruin yours as well.”

  I laugh hard. “He can try. What’s he going to do, call the media and tell them I’m having dinner with a beautiful woman and her son?”

  She blushes and I find myself wanting to run my fingers over the pink of her cheeks. “I don’t know,” she says quietly. She adjusts in her chair and tries to smile.

  “What did he do?”

  “Do you know David Farmer?”

  “I do, he was my high school baseball coach.”

  She nods. “I went and saw him the other day, asking for help. Mostly, I wanted to get a mentor or something like a big brother for Chase. I told Mr. Farmer about the tryouts and all that, but I never got to the big brother part because Brett called, and I just panicked and left. Next thing I know, Brett’s texting me, calling my boss, and basically making my life hell. Which is why you found me out in the field this morning . . . down on the main road, this land abuts Larsen’s property for that stupid store he built, and he’s been stockpiling his overstock on the property. My boss wants to stick it to Brett and is working with the owner to sell the property because adverse possession rules apply.”