Hawk: The Boys of Summer #4

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “I’m interested in the property, but more concerned with Brett. I saw him earlier and the vibe I got . . . it’s off.”

  She nods and do I.

  “Farmer asked me to coach a team, but I can’t. Not with my shoulder. I don’t mind helping if someone else has the time.”

  “But not many people are willing to piss Brett Larsen off.”

  I frown, not liking the way things are around town. “How much is the property?” I wasn’t interested in that piece of land until now. I had every intention earlier of telling my dad about it so he could expand, but now I think I’m going to make the purchase.

  “I’m hoping to have the price tomorrow.”

  “You’ll be sure to call me right away, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” she says.

  “Good.” I lean back in the chair but am still uncertain about what’s actually going on. I want to ask her more, but I also want to get to know her. I don’t want her to think the only reason I asked her to sit with us is because of this. I need to change the subject, something light and fun.

  “So, do you watch baseball?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows at her.

  Again, she blushes. “Sorry, no. Chase does, and I have a feeling that tonight he’s going to tell me all about you. Oh, plus one of my closest friends does. In fact, I think you’re somewhat of a local hero around these parts.”

  “And yet, you had no idea who I was this morning.”

  “Did that bother you?”

  I shake my head slowly. “Not in the slightest. It was nice being able to have a conversation with someone without them falling at my feet, professing their insta love for me.”

  She leans forward and I do the same. “Hawk Sinclair, I can promise you that I won’t go gaga over you every time you enter the room.”

  “What about if we’re in private, Bellamy?”

  Fourteen

  Bellamy

  His question leaves me stunned. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that I look like a gaping fish, seeking water to keep me alive, but I can’t help it. I want to say something . . . anything, yet nothing comes to mind. He can’t be serious, can he? We just met and I don’t do the hook-up thing. I have a son to think about and can’t be entertaining men on the fly.

  Hawk adjusts in his seat and starts to chuckle. I don’t know what he finds so funny unless I’m misunderstanding the situation, but I’m pretty certain he propositioned me. Or maybe I propositioned him. Oh, God. Did I?

  Suddenly, I’m flushed and in desperate need of something to drink. I’m about to stand when the waitress stops at our table with a tray of glasses. Eight in fact, four of them filled with water and the other four are empty so we can go to the soda machine ourselves.

  “Thank you,” I say to her as she sets a glass down in front of me. I don’t care if it’s rude or not, I pick it up and put that straw in my mouth so damn fast and start . . . Nope, can’t do it. I decide to drink directly from the cup itself because I don’t need Hawk getting any more ideas. After she leaves, he reaches forward for my glass, taking it away from me.

  “I’m afraid I’ve offended you.”

  My head twitches in a half-assed attempt to say no. “N - not at all,” I stammer.

  “I did and that wasn’t my intent. I was simply making a joke because, like I said, you’re not like most women and I don’t know . . . I’m not even sure why I said that. I’m sorry. Sometimes my mouth gets the better of me.”

  “Apology accepted.” Except now there seems to be nothing but awkward silence between us. He’s focused on his glass of water and I’m fiddling with my fingers. Every so often, we look up at each other and make an attempt at a smile, but nothing more.

  “This is stupid,” I say.

  “What, dinner?”

  “No, this . . .” I motion between the two of us. “This weird pregnant pause we have going on. I get that women probably throw themselves at you, and they should . . . you’re gorgeous.” Instantly I feel my cheeks heat up. “And part of me wants too, because of what you did for my son today.”

  Hawk leans his good arm on the table. “Let me get this straight. You’re somewhat attracted to me . . .” I start to talk, but he holds his hand up, silently asking me to let him finish. “Because of what I did for your son?”

  I let his words sink in while I gnaw the ever-loving crap out of my inner lip. “Chase’s dad is absent. He has a new family and didn’t really say much when I told him I wanted to move back to Montana. I think . . .” I sigh, taking a deep breath. “My decision was easier for him, too, because it’s what his new wife wanted — all of the attention to be on her and their daughter — Chase was just in the way. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, as a single mom, knowing that a man took time out of his day to make my son happy makes him the most attractive man to me.”

  He seems to ponder what I’m telling him. I didn’t say those things about Chase’s dad to make Hawk feel bad, but to let him know where I’m coming from.

  “I don’t know if it was just playing catch with him or if it’s something you said, but when my son came home from the park today, he was riding his bike with some boys who’ve never come around before and he was laughing. He was so happy.” I pause and inhale deeply to calm my emotions. When I glance at Hawk, he’s staring at me intently. I clear my throat and lean closer so my voice doesn’t carry to the other tables. “I don’t remember the last time Chase laughed so much, and now he’s off with Nolan like they’ve been best friends forever.”

  Hawk looks over his shoulder toward the arcade room and then back at me. “I’m going to have to let what you’ve told me sink in before I respond. I have a real hard time understanding how children can be so mean to each other.”

  “Me too, but around here parents are extremely divided.”

  “I’ve gathered.”

  The waitress comes back with our pizzas and salad and after she sets them down, without any warning, Hawk whistles so loudly I fear my eardrums are bleeding.

  “What the hell?”

  “Watch,” he says, cocking his head toward the arcade. Within seconds, Nolan and Chase are walking back to the table.

  “Mom, I’m going to go wash my hands. Come on, Nolan.” And just like that both boys are running toward the bathroom.

  “How did you do that?” I ask in amazement.

  He shrugs. “My dad taught me how to whistle when I was younger than Nolan. Living on the ranch, there’s all these hidden threats and while my dad didn’t mind my sisters and I roaming, if a ranch hand saw something, they or my dad would whistle. If we didn’t whistle back right away or appear quickly, they’d mount up and come look for us. Now, you tell me how you got my nephew to wash his hands so easily.”

  “I’m a germaphobe, which means I need to go wash mine as well.”

  I stand and take a step to leave but Hawk’s hand clamps down on my wrist. “Are you talking like OCD levels?”

  “No, just the level that a restaurant is never truly clean.” He sighs, almost as if he’s relieved that I’m not extreme. In the bathroom, I take care of business, wash my hands and check what little make-up I have on to make sure my eyeliner isn’t running. The door opens and normally I ignore whoever is walking in, but something tells me that I need to see who it is.

  Annie Larsen is standing there, staring.

  “Hi, Annie,” I say, smiling.

  “My husband told me that you propositioned him. That you’re willing to sleep with him in order to get your son onto the team.”

  I turn to face her and really study the woman in front of me. Her clothes are loose fitting, like she’s lost some weight, and there are bags under her eyes. She doesn’t look like the refined and posh version of her normal self.

  “Annie . . .” I pause and gather my thoughts. “I had dinner with Brett, at his suggestion. I thought it would be all of us, including Matty, but he insisted it be only us. I know you don’t want to believe me, but I have the text messages to prove it. My phone is at the
table I’m sitting at if you’d like to come read them.”

  She drops her head in defeat. “He’s cheating. Weirdly enough, I had hoped it was you because it would make sense. I find receipts all the time, and his calendar is filled with the initials BP so when my sister saw you at dinner the other night, I figured it was you and I asked him.”

  “Annie, I’m so sorry . . . but I can promise you I’m not that type of woman.”

  She nods and walks toward one of the stalls. “How is he?”

  “Brett? I wouldn’t know I—”

  “No, Hawk. How is he?”

  “Oh . . . um, fine I guess.”

  “Don’t hurt him, okay?”

  Before I can respond, she steps behind the wooden door and locks it. I don’t want to leave her but staying in the bathroom to wait seems like an odd thing to do at this point. “Ann, if you need to talk, call me,” I say out loud. “I know what it’s like to be married to an adulterer.” With that said, I walk out and back to the table, bumping into Hawk on the way.

  My eyes scan the restaurant for any sign of Brett. If Ann is here, surely, he is as well. The restaurant is packed, and the lighting isn’t the best so it’s hard to see.

  “Who are you looking for?” Hawk asks.

  “Brett,” I tell him. “Ann came into the bathroom, accused me of having an affair with her piece of crap husband.”

  “Annie’s here?”

  My steps falter and Hawk turns. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Nothing, just . . .” I sigh. “She told me not to hurt you.”

  “We were good friends growing up, but she’s always been in love with Brett. I took her to senior prom after he cheated on her. I guess some things never change.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me alongside of him.

  When we get to the table, the boys are already stuffing their faces and I’m pleasantly surprised to find Chase with some salad on his plate. For some reason, I find myself making Hawk’s plate. He doesn’t say anything but smiles so big that I assume he appreciates my odd and overly friendly gesture. Still, while we’re eating, I can’t get Ann off my mind. More so, that Hawk seems happy she would make a comment like she had. As much as I hate thinking this, I’m going to have to ask Karter for the lowdown on them. They’re younger than me and were in high school long after I left Richfield.

  Every so often, I look around the restaurant and tune out what the boys are talking about to see if I can see or hear anything. Mostly, I’m looking for Brett. I want to be prepared if he decides to interrupt us or plan what I’d say to him if he stopped by our table. Every time I scan the area, Hawk’s watching me. He probably thinks I’m paranoid or looking for an escape route to get away from him. Truth is, this is the best night I’ve had in many, many years. I don’t even care that we’re in a busy restaurant with rambunctious children all around. I’m fairly sure I like the man sitting across from me, even if it’s not something I’m ready to admit to anyone but myself.

  The boys polish off a large pizza by themselves and both claim to be in a food coma and say they’re having food babies. Hawk suggests they go back to the arcade until we’re ready to leave and hands Nolan some money.

  “Let me pay for this round of tokens,” I say, as I dig through my purse for my wallet. By the time I have a twenty out, the boys are gone. I glare at Hawk. “You can’t pay for everything.”

  “Why not?” he asks, shrugging.

  “Because, I’m not someone who takes advantage.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to think I expect it because of who you are, either, so you’ll just have to let me treat you to dinner or lunch sometime.”

  Hawk smiles and damn it if it doesn’t twist my insides. “Do you cook?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have a grill?”

  “I do.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll bring the steaks and use your grill. You do everything else and we’ll have dinner at your place tomorrow.”

  “Um . . .”

  “Too forward?” he asks. “I think you bring it out in me. Normally, I’m a really mellow kind of guy.”

  Take a risk, my inner voice says. “Dinner will be perfect. But first, you need to tell me about yourself.”

  Our waitress is back with the check, but Hawk tells her we’re not done and wants to see the dessert menu. I glance at my watch and see we’ve been here for almost two hours. It’s getting late and the boys have school tomorrow. I’m about to tell him this when he starts talking.

  “I’m the middle child. I have two sisters. My oldest, Elizabeth who you went to school with, she’s married to her high school sweetheart, Warner, who loathes me. He’s probably sitting on my parent’s porch with a shotgun, waiting for Nolan to come home, but that’s a story for another day. My sister Avery has twins, they freak me out.”

  I can’t help but laugh when he shudders. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. They’re identical in every way. The way they walk, talk, look. They have a freaky twin language and they scare me. I love them, but they give me the heebie-jeebies. Anyway, my parents are still married. My mom takes care of the ranch hands, does some photography, is my biggest fan, and does some crafting on top of being the best grandma in the world. I know this because she has the coffee mug to prove it. My dad is a hardworking rancher who inherited the ranch from my grandfather. And then there’s me — the semi-disappointment, but not really — son.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He clears his throat and takes a drink of soda. “My dad wanted me to be a rancher. My mom, she’s the dreamer. There’s no doubt in my mind that she wears the pants, but my dad can be a real hard ass sometimes. He was never fond of me playing baseball, which I get, but supported me, nonetheless. I was awarded a full-ride to the University of Utah and by my junior year I had been drafted by the Renegades.”

  “In Boston?” I clarify.

  “Yep. Finished my first semester of my senior year, went to spring training, spent a few months in AAA and then I was called up.” He stops and looks at me. “AAA is one level below where I’m playing now.”

  “Which is the top of league . . . yes?”

  “Yeah, exactly. Anyway, that’s my life. I love my family, love my teammates. I’m doing what I love in a great city. . . ”

  “But something’s missing?”

  His eyes dart up, meeting mine. “How did you know?”

  I shrug. “Women’s intuition and all that. I feel the same way sometimes. I love my career, I love my son, but there are times when I’m sitting there with this gaping hole and I don’t know what I should do to fill it.”

  “I didn’t feel it until I came back here.”

  “You don’t come home often, I take it?”

  Hawk picks up a discarded straw wrapper and starts rolling it between his fingers. “It’s hard with my dad, brothers-in-law and the ranch. There’s a lot of guilt. I take my parents on vacation to spend time with them and avoid coming home . . . well, mostly my mom because my dad doesn’t want to leave. When I had surgery, they were both there though. My mom made me come back here to rehab.”

  “Would you rather be in Boston right now?”

  “No, I’m perfectly content sitting right across from you at this very moment, Bellamy.”

  It’s the way he says my name that sends shivers down my spine. I’m waiting for him to laugh or tell me he’s just kidding, but he doesn’t. He studies me. For what, I don’t know, but his intense gaze is penetrating, digging deep for whatever he’s seeking. I think I’m seeking the same thing.

  Fifteen

  Hawk

  This being up before the sun stuff has to stop. I’ve never been a fan of taking pills, especially something that could cause an addiction, and the only form of pain relief I’m taking now is ibuprofen and aspirin. However, I’d like to sleep at least one night without tossing and turning, without thoughts weighing heavily on my mind, and without wondering if I’m going to have
a spot on the Renegades when I return from rehab. Sure, I have a contract, but those are easily pushed aside for the newer, stronger, healthier pitchers coming up the ranks. My agent says I have nothing to worry about, but it’s his job to say those things. I have everything to worry about.

  Of course, after last night’s dinner date, I was worried about something completely unrelated and spent hours surfing social media for anything I can find on Bellamy Patrick. When I met her yesterday, I was intrigued. Mostly because she was traipsing through a mud pit and had no idea where she was. It was never my intention to scare her, but I was honestly afraid she was going to walk right into the barbed wire fence and hurt herself. And last night . . . well that couldn’t have worked out any better for me. From the moment I saw her and her son, I knew I would’ve done anything to have them join us for dinner.

  I finally give up on sleep and walk across my room to look out the window, which faces our backyard. There were so many times while growing up that I’d climb out and sit on the roof of the porch. This was where I practiced what I was going to say to my dad when I decided to pursue baseball in college and not something that would benefit the ranch. Although, in a way, my career has actually done so. Over the years, I’ve gifted my parents with payments on taxes, new vehicles, or the latest and best farm equipment. I may not be working the fields, herding the cattle, or wrangling horses but I’m definitely contributing.

  When my teen years hit and girls became my second priority, I’d bring them up here at night to star gaze. Back then, I thought I was smooth and was deemed a player because I was never serious about anyone in particular. I’d wait for girls to ask me out, mostly because there wasn’t one particular girl who held all my attention — or as one of my sisters would say, it was because I had to play the entire field. It was, and still is, their lame attempt at a pun.