Travis

by Duncan Leigh

  Her arms weren’t long enough for such an impossible task.

  Chapter Four

  Strategically placed stop signs and narrow lanes slowed traffic through Cocoa Village, where colorful window displays and shaded benches tempted visitors to linger. Travis braked to let a vehicle pull out of a spot four doors down from Coffee on Brevard. He maneuvered his Jeep into the parallel parking space and grabbed the overflowing shoebox from the seat beside him.

  With any luck, he’d hand the team-mom duties off to Courtney in a matter of minutes, leaving all afternoon to work out an unaccustomed restlessness in the batting cages. He leaned into his seat. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, he’d been unsettled ever since the day Josh’s mom walked into Principal Morgan’s office.

  Why did she get under his skin?

  He shrugged the thought aside. It didn’t matter. Slowly, he shook his head and stepped from the car, determined to keep his focus from straying where it didn’t belong.

  On the sidewalk, he inhaled a gulp of cool winter air that tasted of salt from the nearby river.

  “Yo, Travis! Good to see you, man. You think Lester’s arm will get the Cannons through the play-offs this year?”

  Travis pivoted toward the corner where a wizened figure hawked magazines and papers from behind a plywood stand.

  “Afternoon, Manny,” he said, nodding. “Norfolk’s playing strong. As for Lester, ask me again in October.”

  Manny’s grin deepened. “You woulda taken them all the way, Travis. Remember that shutout you pitched against the—” Manny stopped to tug on his hat brim. “Who was it, the Biloxi Tides or the Columbia Pines?”

  Both, actually, though Travis wouldn’t admit to it. “Sorry.” He dropped a dollar on the closest magazine stack. “Gotta run. I have an appointment with the Sluggers’ new team mom.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the coffee shop down the street. “I’m already late.” The phone calls to the new players on his team had taken a bigger bite out of his day than he’d anticipated.

  “Ms. Smith?” Manny slipped the money into the oilskin apron that hung from his slim hips. He squinted at a window where Coffee on Brevard had been elaborately etched into the plate glass. “She’s a quiet one. Every once in a while, she sends me a cuppa coffee. Pretty good, that.”

  “If you say so, I’ll be sure to check it out. Catch ya later, Manny.”

  Beneath the café’s jaunty awning, Travis stepped past tiny wrought-iron tables and delicate chairs to hold the door for two departing customers. The stylishly dressed women stopped their chatter as they passed. He tipped his head, returning their appraising glances with his usual polite, if practiced, smile.

  He stepped across the threshold into a room where coffee-scented air reminded him of his childhood home. Sturdy tables scattered about the main dining area made even a man his size comfortable.

  “Can I help you?”

  Travis swung toward the counter, where a teenager in a dark green apron was giving him the once-over.

  “Nicole,” he said with a quick glance at her name tag. “Is Ms. Smith around? She said to meet her here.”

  While the girl’s initial greeting lost some of its wattage, a chair scraped the floor in the back of the room. “Hey, Coach Oak,” came a familiar voice.

  Travis followed the sound to a spot where school books littered a table. “Josh, hi. I’m supposed to drop this stuff off with your mom.”

  Blue eyes much like Courtney’s tracked the cardboard box that Travis shifted from one hand to another. “I’ll…uh…I’ll get her,” Josh offered. He raced for the stairs but stopped when he reached them. His hand on the banister, one foot poised over the first step, he turned a hope-filled face toward Travis. “Um, Coach?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for putting me on your team.”

  “No problem, kid.” Travis tossed the boy a smile. “Our first practice is Tuesday at five. Get there a half hour early and we’ll work on your hitting.”

  Josh’s face brightened. “Sure thing, Coach.” He raced up the steps.

  Travis ordered a cup of coffee and made himself at home at one of the tables. Five minutes passed before a squeak at the top of the stairs caught his attention. He marshaled an oh-so-casual smile that took more effort than he expected to keep steady once Courtney stepped onto the landing.

  He’d have sworn they’d shared a link, a spark, a connection behind the dugout. But judging from her appearance, the attraction was all one-sided. His. He took a breath. Not that he considered himself a catch or anything, but women usually put some effort into earning his attention.

  Not Courtney.

  From a careless ponytail to a blousy shirt and loose-fitting pants that didn’t do justice to her curvy figure, not one thing about the fresh-faced blonde acknowledged their moment at the ball field. But if she’d meant to disguise her assets, her plan had backfired. The disheveled look only made her appear impossibly small and vulnerable.

  He fought an insistent urge to rush up the stairs and sling a protective arm around her shoulders. Knowing she didn’t need his help and probably wouldn’t appreciate it, he gripped the edge of the table instead. He held on until her feet struck the hardwood floor. Then, and only then, he stood.

  “Courtney, good to see you,” he said, trying not to second-guess his every move. Meanwhile, Josh tripped down the stairs behind his mom. The boy skidded across the floor in a very baseball-like slide that ended at his own table.

  “Travis.”

  The small hand Courtney slipped into his sent a brain-numbing tingle straight up his arm. He scoured her face, certain this time he’d find the same surprised reaction to his touch mirrored in her features. Disappointment struck when she dropped his hand as if it stung. Her face hidden, she turned toward the girl behind the counter.

  “Nicole,” Courtney called. “Are there any of those almond croissants left?”

  “We’re all out,” the teen chirped. “We still have some cookies, though.”

  “Good. Bring those and— Do you want another cup of coffee, Travis?”

  Though she tried hard to disguise it, he caught a tempting shimmer in the blue eyes that met his own. His gut tightened, a reaction he insisted was due entirely to the fact that he’d skipped lunch. It had nothing to do with Courtney, he swore. Nothing at all.

  “No more coffee,” he said, “but I could handle a few cookies.”

  Munching on them sounded like a good distraction. Of course, taking the treats to go was an even better idea. Aware that Josh was watching, he swept the box he’d toted into the café from the table.

  “Here,” he said, thrusting it toward her.

  Courtney glanced down, her brow furrowing. “What’s all this?” She poked gingerly beneath the top sheets.

  Travis showed her his palms. “It’s everything Marty’s mom gave me at the end of the season.”

  To tell the truth, he had no idea what the box contained. Three sons had provided his previous team mom with enough experience that she handled the duties with little input from him. He’d expected Courtney to do likewise. But one look at the questions that played across her face and he knew, no matter what he’d expected, he wasn’t going to get it.

  Thumbing through the papers, she sank onto a chair. “We need to get organized.”

  Travis caught her note of dismay. Mentally, he calculated the time it’d take to fill her in on all the activities the league had planned. By the time they finished, it’d be too late to hit the batting cages. He guessed he’d have to get used to feeling tense whenever he was around a certain off-limits blonde.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “But I don’t work for free.” He chose a nut-studded cookie from the platter Nicole had placed between them. Attributing the contentment that washed through him to what tasted like equal parts butter and sugar, he slid into the chair next to Courtney’s. Soon piles of paper and instructions littered the table, along with more than a few crumbs.

  “Three o’clock, Ms. S
mith,” Nicole announced after they’d worked steadily for an hour.

  Courtney pushed away from the table, the call tree they’d created dropping from her fingers. “Time to close up shop.”

  Travis checked his watch. “Early, isn’t it?”

  “I open at seven to catch people on their way to work, but business usually dies out by mid-afternoon. Not much call for caffeine this late in the day,” she said with a grin.

  Travis let the breath he’d been holding escape as she rose and crossed to the front doors. He steeled himself against the fragrance of shampoo that tickled his nose and drove him to distraction. While Courtney keyed the dead bolt behind Nicole and flipped the Open sign to Closed, he shook the strain from fingers that seemed intent on finding an excuse to brush against one of Courtney’s smooth arms or the back of one of her delicate hands.

  Turning, she caught him in mid-stretch. “Had enough for one day?”

  Travis flexed his fingers a final time before he put them to work straightening the edges of one of the neat piles she’d erected from his jumbled mess. “No. I’m good. Let’s finish.” The sooner he wrapped things up here, the sooner he could hit the gym, go for a run, anything to burn off his tension.

  “We’ll have to stop when Addie gets up from her nap.” Courtney canted her head toward the baby monitor on a nearby table. “Let’s see… Every parent needs to work in the concession and send snacks twice. Is that about it?”

  Travis eyed her checklist. She was both right and wrong. There were other issues they hadn’t tackled. Items that hadn’t made it to her list yet. “Well, we only need the treats for practices. The league provides snow cones for the entire team after every game.”

  “Great.” She adjusted the schedule. “I’ll call everyone tonight and—”

  Babbling sounds kept her from completing the sentence. She turned to the boy who’d labored over his homework with barely a grumble. “Could you check on your sister while Coach Oak and I finish up?”

  Courtney’s pert features swung back to him. “We’re almost done here, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, torn between springing to his feet and staying put long enough to ask questions he didn’t want Josh to overhear.

  “Can we go to the park later, Mom?” the boy asked as he crossed the room.

  “Have you finished all your assignments?” Courtney countered. “I want you to be all caught up when you go back to school tomorrow.”

  “I left my papers out so you can check them,” he said, rushing up the stairs.

  “Great. His homework is my homework.” She sighed.

  “It never ends, does it?” Travis asked, not bothering to hide his respect for anyone who could juggle a new business with the monumental task of raising two kids.

  “Not really.” Courtney sipped coffee that had to be ice-cold.

  More aware than he wanted to be that Josh’s departure left them alone for the first time that day, Travis pondered what to do next. Making a fast exit was the smart move. But there was still the little matter of her son. Josh might just be the most talented kid Travis had ever seen. Trouble was, the boy needed to look the part. Right now, he didn’t.

  He took a breath. “Josh’ll need baseball pants and cleats for our first practice.”

  Courtney’s pencil stopped moving across the paper. “I thought the league provided uniforms.”

  “They do.” He nodded. “Bats, balls, catcher’s gear. Batting helmets, too. But not all the other stuff. Pants with thick pads will keep him from getting scraped up when he slides. Cleats will protect his ankles and give him better traction. To play without them is risky.”

  Courtney wrote the words on a slip of paper. She underlined each. “How much, do you think?”

  “Wal-Mart and Target have ’em. They shouldn’t run more than fifty bucks. You can pay more—a lot more—but it’s not at all necessary.”

  He hesitated. If he was reading Courtney right, she didn’t have a lot of loose cash floating around. That made his next topic even tougher. He took a sec to remind himself that baseball would solve Josh’s problems the same way it had been the answer to his own.

  “Now, about his glove.” He let his voice drop. “It was his dad’s, wasn’t it?”

  Courtney jerked upright so fast the pencil she’d been holding sailed across the table. “Why do you ask?”

  Travis grabbed for the pencil, catching it before it rolled off the edge. Perplexed, he searched her face. Tension etched lines across her fine features, but the worry he saw in her blue eyes sent a ripple of unease through him.

  “I’m sorry,” he backpedaled. “From his school records, I know Josh lost his dad last year. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Whatever he’d glimpsed in Courtney’s eyes, it evaporated so quickly he asked himself if it had really been there at all.

  “It’s not something I like to talk about.” The breath she exhaled carried a ragged note. “It’s been rough.”

  “I can’t imagine how hard this has been on all of you.” Courtney looked so forlorn that Travis cupped his fingers over hers.

  At his touch she shied away. Leaning into her chair, she folded her arms. “Save your sympathy,” she said, her voice soft. “Josh’s dad wasn’t around much. When he was, let’s just say family wasn’t at the top of his priority list.”

  Travis knew his expression had hardened, but he was powerless to stop it. The idea that Courtney and her sweet kids had had to settle for second place, or judging from her reaction, even third, made him more than a little sick. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings.

  “So if I asked Josh to put that glove on a shelf, it wouldn’t be a big problem? It really isn’t right for Little League, and it sure doesn’t fit his hand.”

  “Not a problem. He barely knew his dad,” she said, her voice cool.

  That sick feeling in his stomach deepened. He sure as hell hoped he’d be a good enough husband and father that his wife and kids, when he had them, would hold on to his memory. Once more he fought the urge to wrap his arms around Courtney and hold her until the petite blonde knew what it meant to be cherished.

  Focus, he told himself.

  Expecting her wholehearted agreement, he was caught off guard when she nibbled on her lower lip the way he’d seen her do before.

  “I’m not sure I can afford a new glove. Not right now.”

  There wasn’t much he could do about her past, but this was one hurdle he could clear.

  “No problem. I have a couple of spares lying around my apartment. I’ll drop one by. He can try it out, see if it fits.”

  Courtney placed her hands palms down on the tabletop. “I wasn’t asking for your charity.”

  “And I wasn’t offering it. I just want to give Josh his best chance at doing well. Look,” he said, frowning, “there’s no sense spending a lot of money on something he might outgrow before the season ends. Let him use one of mine. If he sticks with baseball, you can buy him his own next year.”

  He watched her struggle with the problem without coming up with a better solution. At last her brow smoothed. If the look she turned on him wasn’t filled with simpering thankfulness, Travis decided he was okay with that. It was enough to see the trouble fade from her clear blue eyes and a smile play about her lips.

  It was time to go.

  If he stayed, he’d be tempted to do something he’d be sure to regret.

  He stood. A nonchalant See you Tuesday died in his throat. He cleared it and tried again. What came out instead was, “I’ll swing by in the morning to go over the rest of the stuff.”

  Courtney glanced past the empty box to the list she’d insisted on making. “There’s more?”

  “A few things. Team pictures are in three weeks. Then there’s the trip to Twister Stadium at the end of the season. We need to start planning that as soon as possible.”

  He peered at Courtney and wondered why the color had drained from her face.

  Unease rolled through Courtney’
s stomach. Just as she’d begun to see him as more than a gung-ho athlete, Travis had dropped a trip to Twister Stadium into the conversation as if it had no more ramifications than a run to the grocery store.

  For him maybe it didn’t. For her, well, she’d vowed never to set foot inside the place again. She swiveled toward him. “Trip? What trip?”

  She sucked in air while Travis searched her face. When they were seated side by side, the man had towered over her. On his feet, peering down at her through concerned eyes, his very male presence filled the room. The forearm he’d lowered onto the table had stretched like a tree limb to a hand that could easily span her waist. Quickly, she squelched the distinctly feminine sensation that whispered through her in response.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She straightened. “I’m fine.” Or she would be once she stuffed her emotions back in the trunk where she’d kept them hidden ever since the day she found out she’d spent too many years with the most unfaithful man on the planet.

  She swallowed, then repeated, “What trip?”

  Travis’s gaze lingered on hers a moment longer before his concern faded. In its place, delight spread from his eyes like ripples in a pond. “You’ll love this.” He grinned. “We rent buses and take the entire Little League to a real major league baseball game. This year the visitors are the Norfolk Cannons, my old organization. I’ll take the Sluggers down onto the field, introduce them to some of the players. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the boys. An event like this doesn’t happen at the snap of your fingers, though. We’ll be working on it throughout the season.”

  Just in case there was a single chance in the world she hadn’t heard him correctly, she asked again. “And this is to…?”

  “Twister Stadium in Orlando. The Twisters are the newest team in the Eastern Division. Their stadium is beyond awesome. The kids will have a blast. You will, too.”