Soft Sounds of Pleasure

by Eden Connor

  Ken Davis finally joined them. "Tucker, what's up?" he said. "Reggie, you come to scout my team?"

  "Dunno why I'm here," Reggie growled. "Tucker called me."

  Ken looked from Tucker to Colton to Reggie, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Lila Walker came to see you after she left my office," he guessed, aiming his words at Tucker.

  "Even better, she brought me a cheeseburger and onion rings from Ike's. That always puts me in a real good mood," Tucker said with a laugh.

  "Tucker, the rosters have been submitted to national headquarters. I feel for the kid, I do, but rules are rules. What's the point in adding him if he's not tournament eligible?" Ken protested loudly.

  Colton was wondering why they were still here, since he had followed the conversation enough to know this was an impossible situation. Yet it was pretty clear Lila had done her best and then some.

  "The kid has been through a real hard time, and maybe letting him play is about more than baseball, Ken." The smile on Tucker's face suddenly changed from happy good old boy to shark smelling blood as he rocked back and forth on his heels, clapping his hands together in front of him. "But, if it makes you feel better, while I ate, Lila used my phone. According to the tale she told national headquarters, my office misplaced one set of credentials, but she got that all smoothed over for me, if I send the papers in tomorrow. He'll be tournament eligible, Ken. And Reggie can use him. All you have to do is sign off on this thing, since you're the league president."

  Colton tried to suppress his laugh and failed. Ken looked as if he'd just been hit by a loose baseball, right in the gut. Jonah perked up like dry grass after a rain. Even Reggie looked taller.

  "I hate to mix my metaphors, but that sounds to me like game, set, and match, Ken," Reggie spoke up, his face breaking into a grin bigger than he was. More importantly, Jonah grinned back. Reggie added, "I'll bring the forms around for all of you to sign in the morning, and drop them off with Tucker." Colton gave the short man directions to the garage. The diminutive coach stepped out of the small group of men to hold out a hand for Jonah to shake. "Welcome to the Tigers, Jonah. I'm Coach Martin."

  "You'd better be holding a burger from Ike's when you get to my office, since that's the going price for… whatever it is that just happened," Ken informed Reggie disgustedly. "I like cheese on mine."

  As soon as they got in his truck, Colton turned to a grinning Jonah. "Where to for the celebration, kiddo?"

  Jonah thought that over for a second. "Do you know where this Ike's is?"

  Colton hesitated. He knew of one place by that name, but it was a rundown bar, actually named Ike's Place. The sign out front looked like it had been painted by the last customer leaving on a Friday night. He had trouble picturing Lila in that sort of place. "I do, but it's news to me they sell burgers. Guess it won't hurt to find out. But if they do, we get ours to go."

  "Duh. Everybody else did," Jonah pointed out.

  Smartass kid, Colton thought fondly. And speaking of smart, he hadn't missed the fact that Lila had played two grown men like… well, like the outcome mattered to her.

  Chapter Five

  Lila rinsed out her coffee cup and placed it in the top rack of the dishwasher, realizing the appliance was nearly full. That reminded her of the days she'd had to run it twice daily, just to keep up with the steady stream of dirty dishes her two missing men had generated. Angrily, she dropped in the soap tablet and slammed the door, stabbing blindly at the power button.

  What sort of fool cried over not having to run the dishwasher? She should be celebrating the drop in her water bill.

  Probably the same sort of fool that'd gone out of her way to help someone without any manners whatsoever, she told herself.

  No, not a fool. An idiot.

  An idiot that had gotten carried away because of one pity fuck. She knew she'd have called Ken Davis for Colton either way. She'd probably have put in a call to Tucker for good measure. But because of the sex, she'd gone above and beyond. And Colton wasn't calling to let her know the outcome because he was probably embarrassed to have banged a woman Lila's age.

  She gave her chair a sharp shove into place beneath her table. In a couple of days, there would probably be a polite card in her mailbox. Not that she truly believed a single straight man would send her a thank-you note, but she knew she could stand around crying, or she could get busy. Waiting for tears to solve something had proved to be a waste of time.

  Meanwhile, she'd promised an antique dealer she'd have a chair frame refinished by tomorrow and it needed two clear coats with at least four hours dry time in between. Good thing it was going to be hot again today.

  She raised one of the roll-up doors to compensate for the heat and grabbed a couple of rags from the drawer of an old dresser. Tuning the radio defiantly to her favorite oldies station, she twisted her hair, jerked it through the back of one of Charlie's old baseball caps and got to work.

  The elaborate carving on the chair frame was gorgeous, in Lila's opinion, but she had to take meticulous care not to let the gelatinous material of her secret hand-rubbed finish goop up in the crevices, or miss a spot. It wasn't long before her anger and frustration faded as she got lost in her task, admiring the way the grain and rich color of the newly bared wood came to life when the clear finish coat was applied.

  To Lila, there were few things more satisfying than restoring an old piece of furniture. Pete had laughed at her at first, when they'd only just been married and she'd dragged home a raggedy dining room table and five wobbly chairs which she'd bought secondhand for twenty dollars, promising to buy her a new set. Lila hadn't wanted a new set, and Pete had stopped laughing when he saw the pieces after she'd refinished them. They'd eaten dinner on that table, and he'd declared her a miracle worker when the chairs hadn't collapsed, praising her handiwork for almost an hour. Probably because, back then, she hadn't been much of a cook, she recalled with a wry twist of her lips. The stray thought that poor Pete must have been thrilled to finally have something positive to say after dinner that first year they were married made her laugh out loud.

  Pete hadn't been laughing when he came home a few nights later to find the dining nook completely empty.

  "Oh, my God, Lila, we've been robbed," he'd cried. "Honey, did you call the police?"

  Lila had been planning this moment for weeks, but she acted very nonchalant. "Oh, you mean the table and chairs? I sold them today."

  "You sold them?" he'd repeated. "Why would you do that? You worked so hard and the set was beautiful when you finished."

  "Because I had a much nicer set on layaway at an antique shop, or it will be when I strip the paint off. I sold this one to pay for the other one. Plus, thanks to the profit, tonight we're having steak." At the time, Lila had known a hundred recipes for hamburger, but they all turned out badly. Even she couldn't screw up steak and potatoes.

  That had been the way Lila started her little junk business, eventually using the profits to buy a secondhand truck of her own. Pete had never once questioned what she did with her money after that first lesson in barter economics.

  Charlie had bitched that she'd sell anything in the house that wasn't nailed down, but until she had absolutely had no choice, she had held onto that second dining room suite.

  Be safe, Charlie, she prayed silently, as she did every time he popped into her thoughts, stepping back to look at the chair critically as she stripped off her gloves.

  The first three notes of the next song on the radio made her wrench the volume dial as far up as it would go. The rich voice of Otis Redding filled the garage and her sense of loss and loneliness made her own arms ache as she swayed to the music. Her heart literally felt raw from hurting.

  Being lonely was the worst part of surviving. Her child was gone, her friends had deserted her, her in-laws treated her like gum on their shoes—something they didn't like but couldn't figure out how to get rid of—and if not for the surprising and timely friendship offered by Amy Sizemore, L
ila wasn't sure how she'd have survived all of the bewildering changes that had been thrust upon her.

  When the song ended she lifted the hem of Charlie's old t-shirt to wipe away the damnable tears. She'd ripped up all of Pete's t-shirts for staining rags. That was what he got for dying and leaving her alone.

  * * * *

  Colton stood frozen just inside Lila's garage, his eyes riveted on her gesture. It was like she'd stepped out of his head. She was dressed the same. Even her hair was the same, flowing out the back of a baseball cap, the same jail-break tendrils cuddling her face. The only difference he could see was that this time, when she raised the shirttail to her face, the two items making his cock hard were the adorable dimples just above her ass.

  He wanted to swirl his tongue around those little dips.

  He wanted to hold her till she cried her last tear.

  He wanted to make her laugh.

  He wanted her.

  He gripped the potted orchid in his hand and adjusted his damn jeans. His movement finally caught her attention, because she dropped the shirt and glanced over her shoulder.

  He smiled as she stepped to the radio and reached to turn the volume down. "Is that for me?" she asked.

  Having Lila smile back at him was like basking in sunshine after a cold rain. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "My way of saying thanks. Well, this and lunch, because if you're not busy, I'm going to insist."

  The way he'd insisted to his brothers that he was taking the day off, once Reggie had come and gone, because of something Reggie had said. Colton had agreed it wouldn't take men long to line up outside Lila's front door. He'd been smart enough to go 'round back, though.

  She stepped toward him, her hands outstretched to accept his gift, but her eyes searched his face. Whatever she saw there made her nod. More crystal tears gleamed in her pretty blue eyes, but her lips still formed the most beautiful curve on her body.

  "I might as well tell you I'm going to kill it," she said, dropping her eyes to the orchid. "But it's beautiful and I'll love it till the day it dies. Pink's my favorite color. Thank you."

  "No green thumb?" he asked, daring to tuck a soft tendril behind her ear as she accepted his gift. Something in her words made his soul ache like his cock.

  "Black all the way to my elbow." The expression in her eyes turned merry, chasing the gleam away.

  "You have other talents," he replied, laughing at her joke. "Like what you're doing to that chair. Not to mention the sweet little trick you pulled on that Ken guy."

  Humor danced in her eyes. "Come inside and tell me how that worked out," she invited, turning away with the orchid.

  He trailed her up the brick steps into the house. She set the flower pot in the center of her kitchen table and stood back to admire the effect, while he stepped closer to better admire Lila. "I'll tell you all about it over lunch," he said. "And if you're going to say you aren't dressed, I'll wait."

  She gave him an assessing look from under raised brows as she scuttled to the opposite side of her kitchen. "And if I'm busy?"

  He grinned at her, loving the way she was trying to play hard-to-get. "Then you'll have to wait to find out about the tryout till you're not busy." He made himself shrug casually rather than grabbing her and kissing her. "I eat lunch every day; just let me know the day you are willing to go along and I'll tell you the story."

  "Hard ball, huh?"

  Colton watched her elegantly long fingers as they tortured the hem of her shirt into a knot. Her cute little bottom teeth scraped her upper lip. Anguish and admiration warred inside his chest over her loyalty and commitment to a dead man.

  He was sure he'd never known a woman capable of Lila's sort of commitment. He'd cared about one or two. The first had left him to go off to college, and he'd found out the second had slept around on him the entire time they'd dated. Even his mother hadn't committed to raising him; she'd given birth to Sarah, who had been eleven months younger than Colton, and just walked out the back door one day and had never come back. But after Reggie's comment, he'd realized that both of those women had been physically similar to Lila. Why continue to sort through the knock-offs when the original was available?

  "Colton, I meant what I said yesterday. I can't go out to lunch with you."

  "Lila, there must've been fifty people at Berry Field last night, and they all know I owe you a burger. You aren't the only person people think they have a right to judge. Us long-haired hippie types get more than our fair share of scrutiny, you know. If I don't feed you, I won't be able to hold my head up in town."

  Lila stopped mangling her shirt and huffed. "You're seriously not gonna tell me, are you?"

  "Nope. But if you really wanna know, I figure a woman that knows about Ike's can find us a spot without too many prying eyes."

  "Hey now, Ike's has the closest bathroom to the ball field over at the Beaumont Mill village. The joint has terrible toilet paper though—I mean take-your-own bad—but the burgers? Oh my God, I'd give the Devil my soul if he was holding a burger from Ike's."

  When he stopped laughing, she huffed again. "Okay, help yourself to a glass of tea and grab a chair while I change."

  Colton took a plastic cup off the stack on top of her refrigerator and filled his glass with ice from the door, noting with something akin to amazement that her refrigerator contained no diet soda as he poured his glass of tea. In fact, there was no soda at all, just a pitcher of tea and a half-gallon of whole milk. And a six-pack of bottled beer, he noted with approval, one slot empty. Closing the door on the chilly escaping air, he couldn't resist pushing open the swinging door to his left. There was only one item of furniture in the room. The big padded armless rocking chair looked comfortable, but out of place under the elegant crystal chandelier. One empty beer bottle rested on the floor beside the chair, a shriveled curl of green lining the bottom. Long double windows looked out on the street.

  Imagining her sitting in that rocking chair drinking alone, watching people drive past her, wrenched something inside him. He had a plan to fix that.

  A plan he'd started putting together after he and Jonah had shared two of the finest hamburgers he'd ever eaten, causing Jonah to admit he'd never had a better one, not even in his precious Golden State.

  Colton had no idea what the magic number of days mourned before Lila felt she could move on might be, but he knew it wouldn't be as long as it had been before she began accepting some of those invitations the three De Marco brothers had all agreed she'd be getting. The woman he compared all others to was now single again. And he'd be damned if he hadn't gotten lucky enough to be the first man in line. Lucky enough to be raising a nephew that wanted to follow a path Lila clearly knew by heart.

  He had a hunch Lila and Jonah needed each other. They had more than baseball in common, with their dual losses, and Colton needed her advice on both baseball and child-rearing. These were going to be his reasons to keep his foot in her door, because deep down, he knew Lila's protestations about conventions meant she wasn't yet ready to move on.

  He glanced at his watch when he heard her footsteps on the stairs. He stepped back into the kitchen as the door to her bare dining room closed silently on its pivot. Less than seven minutes? Had she even changed? Was she backing out?

  She turned the corner to the kitchen and he couldn't resist a "Wow that was fast," as he noted her light pink top and khaki skirt with a sense of relief.

  "You like to be kept waiting?" she asked curiously.

  "I'll wait as long as you need." He gave her an approving look. "You look beautiful, Lila. You always do."

  A fresh coat of mascara that hadn't been there ten minutes ago darkened her fluttering lashes. Her cheeks soon matched her shirt. "I don't suppose you happened to notice what happened to my sunglasses? I nearly went blind driving around yesterday after you left."

  He laughed, enjoying seeing her flustered by the memory of how her glasses had come to be lost. "No ma'am, I was totally absorbed by you, but I'l
l help you look for them," he offered. "I guess you already searched the deck?"

  Their hunt turned up her glasses stuck in the top of a bush in the side yard where they'd landed after sliding off the deck. He placed them on her nose after inspecting them for scratches. "Chanel, huh? Classy choice for a classy lady." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, inhaling her perfume.

  "Early birthday gift to me, because I doubt my son will remember. But I was positive these were what he would have picked out." She was babbling; his flattery made her nervous. He enjoyed knowing that being close to him shook her. Deliberately, he slid his fingers down the soft skin along the back of her arm, until he captured her hand.

  "What's that?" he asked as he spied a mound of dirt behind her, trying to head off another hard-on while he laced his fingers through hers.

  "Charlie's pitching mound, Pete built it for him right before the wreck."

  He shook his head. "You guys were hardcore into this baseball stuff, weren't you?"

  "You just wait," she retorted. "You become an expert on sports you don't care a lick about when your kid decides to play." She elbowed him in the rib. "Give it up, Jonah made a team, didn't he?"

  He figured he had her dressed and halfway to the truck, so he gave in. "Yup, thanks to you. He's gonna play for Reggie Martin."

  Lila drew up short at the corner of her house, staring at him in dismay. "Oh, my God no. Anybody but him."

  Chapter Six

  The converted house she directed him to had lurid matadors painted on black velvet lining the crappy gray-paneled walls, but the barbeque smelled fantastic. "What's wrong with Reggie?" he demanded, once they had ordered.

  "Well, for one thing, it staggers me to realize that his twins must now be thirteen or fourteen, meaning there's dirt in the parking lot that's not as old as I am. And for another, Reggie might know baseball, but I don't like his ethics." She squeezed the lemon slice into her tea. "I didn't realize Jonah pitched. That presents a whole new set of potential issues, too." She frowned.