by Leigh Duncan
No. I won’t.
Travis was asking the impossible. “I can’t make it,” she managed, her voice tight.
Disappointment and determination battled in the dark eyes that met hers. “I know you don’t like sports, but couldn’t you pretend? For just one day? For the boys?”
If he’d chosen any other field in the nation, she might have risked it. She could have planned on getting lost in the crowd. But not there. Not where she’d been betrayed in the worst possible way. Travis might think he had everything figured out, but she absolutely was not going to Twister Stadium.
Defiant, she rose to face him. Her arms crossed, she tipped her face to tell him so.
Suddenly, squaring off with Travis didn’t seem like her best move as a wave of longing shuddered from her throat straight down to her toes. She told herself she had to break the connection. Had to look away. Instead, she drank in Travis’s clean, manly scent. She studied his smooth brow, the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, the slope of his nose. It took every ounce of her willpower to wrench her gaze upward, but up was no good either. A smoldering interest filled the eyes that locked on to hers.
Courtney licked her lips.
She was so lost in Travis’s gaze that she flinched when a serious wail rose from the baby monitor. The door at the top of the stairs popped open.
“Mom! Addie pooped her diaper,” Josh shouted.
“Be right there.” Courtney ducked away from the man who looked as dazed as she felt. Knowing she’d have to be the one to get them moving in the right direction, she cleared her throat.
“Looks like we’re out of time. Unless you want to volunteer for diaper duty…”
“No—no, that’s all right,” he stammered.
She hid a grin when he bolted for the door. As he neared it, his feet slowed and, along with them, so did her heart. At the last possible second, he turned around.
“We aren’t done here, you and I.” He wagged his finger between them. “I’ll be by in the morning. We’ll pick this up again.”
Before she had a chance to disagree, he was out the door. As she watched his tall frame disappear down the street, she shook her head. In a coffee shop that would, hopefully, be filled with customers, there wouldn’t be time to chat with the hunky baseball coach. No matter how much she wanted to. Or how often she told herself it was a bad idea.
That night as she tucked him into bed, Josh reached up to give her a hug. “Mom, thanks,” he whispered.
“You had a good day, huh?” Courtney teased. “Even though you had to do your homework?”
Josh scrunched his nose. “Not that part. For saying I could play Little League. I’m glad Coach Oak picked me for his team.”
“You know,” she said, smoothing the sheet under Josh’s chin, “he talked Principal Morgan into letting you play so you could stay in school. Coach Oak didn’t have to do that, but he thinks you can be a good player.” She took a breath. “I think you can be good at a lot of things. You could be a doctor. Or a builder. Or even a cowboy. There’s a world of possibilities open to you, as long as you do well in school.” She kissed his nose. “So buckle down and study, okay?”
“Okay, Mom,” he said through a yawn. He flopped onto his stomach. A muffled question rose from beneath the blankets. “Mom, why do cowboys have to study?”
Courtney thought fast. “They have to know what’s wrong when their horses get sick. See you in the morning, honey.”
At the door, she paused to take another look at the boy who’d recently shown glimpses of his happier former self. The talk she’d had with him on Thursday had helped effect the change, but she couldn’t ignore another truth. So had Travis. He’d gone out of his way to help her son, and for that she was grateful. But no matter how much she appreciated the way he’d taken Josh under his wing, she wouldn’t count on the coach any more than she had to.
Not even for the little things.
Chapter Five
At seven in the morning, birds chirped in the trees that lined the main streets of Cocoa Village. Security gates remained locked in place in front of closed shops. With few of the parking spaces occupied, Travis pulled to the curb in front of Coffee on Brevard.
From the sidewalk, he stopped to watch a boat head out from the city docks. Its prow cut through the fog-blanketed river. He inhaled deeply…and exhaled just as quickly. The salty air smelled fishier than it had the day before. He tucked the worn leather glove deeper under his arm and kept moving.
Inside he caught the glance Courtney aimed at him when the bell over the door jingled. She paused serving the next person in line only long enough for the briefest of smiles, but it was enough to give him a tiny jolt. He sputtered to a halt, his thoughts jumbled.
He knew he should go. He wasn’t moving.
He thrust his hands into his pockets and faced the truth. He’d been drawn to Courtney from the moment he’d first seen her. The warnings he’d given himself to stay away from the “needy” widow and her troubled son hadn’t worked. Besides, nothing about the single mom screamed for help. In fact, her fierce independence and determination were part of what he found so attractive.
That and a body that made him think about moving from first base to second to…
Not that he was going to slide into home, or even go to bat. He considered Addie’s sweet smile, Josh’s attitude. No doubt about it, they’d be better off with someone who was in it for the long haul…and that wasn’t him.
“Busy place,” he noted, stepping to the counter as the last person in line headed for the condiment stand. Determined not to fall under Courtney’s spell, he avoided her eyes by pointing to nearby tables where people lingered over their coffee. “Is it usually like this?”
She swiped a sponge over the counter. “About normal for a Monday. People were waiting when I opened this morning.”
Keeping his focus on the view beyond the window was tougher than he expected when she smiled so widely that dimples graced her cheeks. He gave it his best shot. “You’d think business would be down on the days when so many of the shops are closed, wouldn’t you?”
She turned toward the mammoth brew station and began wiping down spigots. “The owners use Mondays to catch up on inventory and restock after the weekend.” She turned, holding a pot aloft. “Can I treat you to a cup? House blend? Or Kona mocha?”
“Either’s fine, thanks. How about adding a couple of pastries, too?” He slipped a few dollars from his wallet and slid the money across. Aware that avoiding Courtney altogether offered the best solution, he drew in a breath. “I didn’t stop to consider how much work it takes to run a business when I asked you to be the Sluggers’ team mom,” he began. “Maybe it’s too much to ask.”
A shadow flickered in her eyes.
“Backing out of our deal already?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m simply giving you a way out if you want it.”
Her hand settled over the bills. “I called the parents last night. They’ve all signed up for their shifts in the concession stand and such. There are only one or two holes left in the schedule. I can fill in if no one volunteers.”
“You spoke to everyone?” Travis shook his head. Not even Marty’s mom had been that efficient.
Courtney slipped two glistening sweet rolls onto a stark white plate. “If we get pant and shirt sizes at practice on Tuesday, we’ll have the uniforms in time for team pictures.”
He blew a breath across his cup and took a sip. The hot coffee landed in his stomach, where it spread a satisfying warmth. “So, where are the kids?”
“Addie’s taking a nap in the office.” Courtney motioned toward a door at the back of the dining area. “Josh left for the bus stop just before you got here.”
“That’s early, isn’t it?” The first bell at Citrus Elementary wouldn’t ring for another hour.
“The bus route runs all along the river and back.” Her expression turned pensive. “It’s impossible to carpool. Not with the shop.”
Normally, he wasn’t much of a caffeine addict, but he suspected daily trips to Coffee on Brevard could easily become a part of his routine. Should he offer to give the boy a lift to school? Not if he intended to keep his distance.
To stop himself from saying words he had no business speaking, Travis bit into one of the cinnamon buns. Sugar exploded on his tongue while Courtney eyed him as if she wasn’t sure why he was standing there. He swallowed hastily and held out the glove.
“I brought this.” He’d hoped to give it to Josh himself so the boy would know someone was there for him, the same way his high school baseball coach had taken a life-altering interest in him after his folks’ divorce. A former professional athlete himself, Coach Marsden had inspired Travis to follow in his footsteps.
She eyed the battered leather as if it had strings attached. “Are you sure? What if something happens to it?”
As he met her troubled gaze, Travis felt off-balance. He hurried to reassure them both that the earth hadn’t shifted beneath their feet.
“Hey, it’s just an old glove. It’s been sitting in my closet for years. Might as well let the boy put it to good use.”
At last Courtney sighed and reached for the scuffed and stained leather. Their fingers brushed as she took it. The touch sent a pleasant shudder through him, and her soft inhale told him she felt the same thing. Smiling, he watched her spin away and tuck the glove beneath the counter.
“I’ll make sure you get it back,” she said, turning to face him again. “When the business is a little more stable, I’ll buy Josh one of his own. In the meantime, he’ll be thrilled. And you—” she paused “—your coffee is on the house for as long as you want.”
A glance at the clock on the back wall reminded him that Josh wasn’t the only one who had to be at school on time.
“I’d hoped we could start laying the groundwork for the trip to Twister Stadium this morning, but I have a staff meeting. Catch you tomorrow?”
The same dismay he’d read in her eyes before reappeared.
“About that…” she began.
“Whatever it is,” he said, cautiously placing his hand atop hers, “we’ll work it out, okay?”
Her eyes widened, though this time neither of them flinched. Certain they’d made progress but uncertain where they were headed or if he even wanted to go there, Travis reluctantly retrieved his hand.
“I’ll see you at practice tomorrow night?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ll be back for coffee before then,” he countered. The trip to Twister Stadium really did involve a lot of planning. Besides, he suspected a certain pretty widow might be even more addictive than the caffeine she served.
Tuesday, Courtney poured a handful of Cheerios onto Addie’s stroller tray. Immediately entranced, the little girl began scooting the round circles from one end to the other. Occasionally she stopped to fist one into her mouth.
While her daughter played with her snack, Courtney set up a folding chair and spread a blanket on the grass beyond the dugout. She eyed the other parents. For the most part, mothers with older children chose seats in the metal bleachers while the fathers leaned against the low chain-link fence that ran from behind first base to the edge of the outfield. A brisk breeze brought snippets of their conversation.
“We hit the batting cages every night…”
“Andy’s control is much better this year…”
“Have you seen the new kids?”
At this last, she stopped pulling Addie’s toys from the diaper bag and listened more closely. Would the other parents accept Josh as one of the team? Or would they complain that Travis had drafted a kid who’d never played baseball before? As much as she’d fought against letting her son play for the Sluggers, she wouldn’t stand quietly on the sidelines and see him ostracized. Not by anyone.
“Sluggers rule!”
The voices of a dozen young players rose in a communal shout from the parking lot. She lifted Addie as the noise caught the attention of every parent on the field. They stood, applauding as a thundering herd of boys and their coaches raced down the small hill. Tension bled from Courtney’s shoulders when she spotted Josh, dressed in baseball pants and wearing his new cleats.
In the middle of the group, her son looked as though he fit right in.
Focused on Josh, she didn’t notice that Travis had stopped beside her. By the time she did, he stood so close she could pick out individual hairs in the faint stubble that graced his cheeks. He tickled Addie under the chin until the baby chortled.
“Walk over to the stands with me,” he said. “I want to introduce you as the new team mom.”
All too aware of his masculine presence, she fell in step beside Travis as he led them to the bleachers.
“I see some new faces and a lot of familiar ones,” he said while behind them one of the assistant coaches took the team through a few warm-up exercises. “I’m confident that the Sluggers will have a great season.”
A father she hadn’t met gave a rousing cheer. Travis held up one hand, a signal for silence.
“The same rules apply this year as last but, for our new folks, I’ll repeat them. Practices are here at Citrus. Make sure the boys arrive on time. On game days, they’ll need to be at McLarty Park an hour early. Parents, you’re welcome to attend all activities and cheer for the team. In fact, I encourage it as long as you keep your comments positive and supportive.”
Courtney wasn’t sure, but she thought Travis let his gaze linger on specific individuals when he said, “Remember to exercise the same sportsmanship we’re trying to teach your children. No razzing the other teams, their players or their coaches. Absolutely no arguing with the umpires.”
The warm weight of Travis’s hand landed on her shoulder. He shot her a wicked grin.
“This here is Courtney Smith and sweet little Addie.” With his free hand, Travis gave the baby a playful poke. “Courtney has volunteered to act as team mom this season. I’m going to turn things over to her now since—” he threw a look behind him “—it seems there’s a practice I need to lead.”
He gave her arm a squeeze that sent ripples of awareness through her. Stunned by the reaction and knowing there was only so much a woman could take and still maintain her composure, Courtney turned to the parents. They waited attentively for her to say…something.
“Hi.” She shifted Addie on her hip. “You’ll have to forgive me if I can’t match names with faces just yet. You’ve all been great about signing up to work the concession stand. If anyone wants to take an extra shift, we have a couple of openings left to fill. I’ve printed up schedules, but they’re—” she patted Addie’s rounded bottom “—still in this little one’s diaper bag. If you could all stop by, I’ll be sitting over there.”
She gestured toward the trees but swore no one noticed. Oh, one or two of the parents gave vacant nods. Melinda, the woman she’d met at tryouts, sent her a cheery look. Courtney returned her half wave and turned to see what had captured everyone’s attention.
As she suspected, Travis was the culprit.
On the field, he moved with a lithe grace from player to player, positioning them for infield practice. When he squatted down to speak face-to-face with the catcher, Courtney swore she heard one of the mothers swoon. The fathers— Well, if the starry-eyed hero worship in their eyes was any indication, they’d all become members of the Travis Oak Fan Club.
A club she was just as determined not to join.
The coach might be the adored answer to the other parents’ prayers, but she was not going to fall under his spell. First and foremost, he was a baseball player, and she was done with those.
On her way back to her chair, Courtney inhaled her baby’s sweet scent and let the memories of the past year wash over her. Betrayal and devastating loss battled any attraction to another athlete. The circumstances surrounding Ryan’s death alone had almost driven her insane. Would have if she hadn’t been so caught up in tending to a distraught son and a newborn. She couldn’t
risk going down that road again.
“Mama!” Addie squirmed in an embrace that was admittedly tighter than usual. “Plu-ay!”
“Oh, you want to play, do you?” Blinking away her tears, Courtney leaned in to steal a kiss. She summoned up a smile. “All right. Let’s bounce.” She jostled the baby on one knee and chanted, “Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man.”
Addie’s little face scrunched into a delighted wreath. “Pa-cake.” She clapped her tiny hands.
The activities on the field faded into the background while she played with the baby. By the time Addie had tired of the games and was snuggled into her stroller with a bottle, Travis stood at home plate. His back to her, he hit grounders to the boys he’d positioned around the bases while the assistant coaches worked with another set of players in the field beyond.
Perplexed when she didn’t see Josh in the outfield, Courtney spotted her son smack-dab between second and third base at shortstop. Though starting an inexperienced player at a demanding infield position wasn’t what she’d expected, she shrugged her concerns aside. Decisions like that were up to the coach. She’d have to trust that he knew what he was doing.
The thought stopped her.
Did she really trust Travis? On any level?
Part of her said she should. After all, he’d shown Josh nothing but kindness from the moment he’d intervened in the school principal’s office. The way he’d dealt with her son at tryouts had renewed her hope that her angry preteen would conquer his demons. Then there was the glove Travis had lent the boy. She’d thought it was a discard, something left behind by another player. Finding the coach’s name in the worn cotton lining had shocked her so badly her mouth had gaped open.
What kind of man lent souvenirs of his own childhood to a kid he barely knew?
She tugged on the end of her ponytail as she tried to figure out what motivated Travis. Was he simply reaching out, feeling sorry for a child who’d lost his dad? Or was it something more? Did he see her son as the next baseball phenom?
