by Duncan Leigh
Relief washed through her when Josh let a slow grounder get past him like no prodigy she’d ever seen. He chased after the ball.
“Sorry, Coach,” he called as he scooped the bouncing ball into his glove and hustled to make the throw to Travis.
“It’s okay. Just stay with it, man,” Travis called.
Courtney shaded her eyes and stared. She’d been around far too many baseball coaches. Every single one had harped on the mistakes their players made. The tall man standing at this plate praised the kids for making good moves. As for their errors, she watched as Travis walked the third baseman through a muffed routine play. The way the young coach handled it, she thought the kid stood a good chance of learning from the experience.
“Okay, let’s take a ten-minute break.” Travis called all the players in from the field. “Grab some water. Then we’ll scrimmage for a while before we call it quits for the day.”
Boys streamed off the field and into the dugout, the plastic cleats on the bottoms of their shoes echoing against the hard cement floor. For the next few minutes, Courtney was inundated by parents who took advantage of the interruption to pick up schedules and drop off information about uniforms. When she looked up again, Tommy Markham stood on the pitcher’s mound and his mother was on approach.
“You don’t mind if I sit with you, do you?” Melinda unfolded a chair without waiting for an answer. “I don’t like to sit with the other parents when Tommy pitches. I’m too nervous. Don’t know why. He always does great. Just great.” Plastic webbing groaned as she collapsed into her seat.
“I’m glad to have the company.” Courtney checked on Addie. The baby had finished her bottle but seemed content in the stroller.
“You probably don’t realize it, but Tommy is going to play pro ball one day.”
“It’s a bit early to start making career plans, isn’t it?” Courtney stole a look at the thin shoulders of youngsters who hadn’t yet reached puberty. The boys had years of growing to do before they became draft eligible upon graduation from high school.
“My husband says you can’t start soon enough. We’re already looking at colleges with the best baseball programs. But that’s only an option. Tommy will probably go from high school straight into the pros.”
“You must be doing something better than I am.” Courtney gave her head a rueful shake. “I can’t imagine Josh handling that kind of pressure at eighteen or nineteen. And all that time on the road? It’s terribly hard on both players and their families.”
If she heeded the warning, Melinda gave no sign of it. She leaned forward, concentrating on her son as Tommy went into his windup.
Courtney watched the twelve-year-old lob several pitches toward home plate. Other than carrot-colored hair and a toothy grin, the boy looked completely average. Average height. Average weight. Worse, he was right-handed, a trait that wouldn’t earn him a second look in a sport that valued lefties.
Sensing disappointment in her friend’s future, Courtney leaned back in her chair and steered the conversation away from the field.
“What have you been up to since the tryouts?”
“Shopping for the perfect dress.” Melinda winced when Tommy’s last practice pitch sailed in too high for a strike. “Haven’t found it yet, but I won’t give up till I do.”
“Oh? A special occasion?” The first batter stepped to the plate, where he took a few practice swings. Courtney spotted Josh riding the pine in the visitors’ dugout.
Melinda pivoted from the waist. “For the Little League fund-raiser. You are coming, aren’t you?”
Courtney brushed a hand over her hair. “I doubt I’ll make it.” Given the current state of her bank account, the idea of spending extra money had dumb move written all over it. “I’m not sure I can afford to hire someone to watch the kids. Between the registration fees and equipment Josh needed, I’m pretty much tapped out.”
“Oh, that’s easy enough to fix.” Melinda dismissed the problem with a wave of one hand. “We’ll share a babysitter. I’ve already lined one up. I’m sure she’ll just love Addie.”
For half a second, Courtney indulged in a trip down memory lane. Back when she’d been the wife of a somebody, an evening event meant a touch-up at the hair salon, maybe a half day at the spa and her choice of designer dresses. Today only the simplest of those gowns hung in her closet, and she hadn’t seen a stylist in months. But a night that didn’t involve coffeepots or children did sound like something just this side of heaven. Besides, the event might bring more attention to Coffee on Brevard.
“Think anyone would mind if I handed out a few business cards?”
“Not at all,” Melinda answered. Her attention shifted to the field, where another pitcher had replaced Tommy on the mound. “Oh, Josh is up to bat.” She reached out. “Now, don’t worry if he struggles at the plate. He has to start somewhere.”
Courtney eyed the hand that had given hers a consoling pat. She tucked her own fingers into her lap. Unless she’d totally missed the mark, Josh had inherited his father’s raw talent. With a little bit of coaching and some practice, he’d soon be playing as well as any member of his team. Maybe better.
As if to prove her point, Josh batted the first pitch over the third baseman’s head.
“Would you look at that!” Melinda exclaimed. “The pro scouts will have two Sluggers to watch this year.” She peered at Courtney. “What does Josh want to be when he gets older?”
Anything but a baseball player.
Courtney hedged. “At this age his plans change almost daily. He’s never played before. I doubt he’ll stick with it.”
And he wouldn’t if she had anything to say about it.
“Looks like practice is about over,” Melinda said after each squad had three chances at bat. She folded her chair and stood. “I’ll see you Thursday?”
“Sounds good.” Courtney nodded. For the next month, the team would practice every other day. She bent to store Addie’s toys while she waited for Josh.
“He did better than I thought he would today.”
At Travis’s voice, Courtney straightened from the stroller. “Thanks.” She paused, then added a nearly silent “I think.”
A sweat-damped jersey pulled tight across Travis’s chest when his weight shifted. He tugged his hat from his head and ran a hand through his hair. “He seems to like it. Are you okay with that?”
“I have to be, don’t I?” She drew in a deep breath. She’d struck a deal and intended to keep her side of the bargain. She waited, wishing the coach would move along before she did or said something that would let him know how much she was attracted to him. To her dismay, he lingered at her side.
“Hey, Josh,” he said, not missing a beat when her son neared. “How’d you like the glove?”
“It catches real good, Coach.” The boy pantomimed the ball landing in the pocket and slapped one hand over it as if to keep it in place.
“From the way you hit today, I’d say you’re improving there already.” He gave Josh’s hat brim a tug, then turned to the stroller. “And how’s Miss Addie tonight?” He tickled the baby’s chin.
The move elicited a laugh but, suddenly shy, Addie buried her head against the cushion.
“Well, I better let you guys get on home.” He dusted his hands on his shorts. “I’m going to hit some before I call it a night.” Travis pointed toward the field, where a bucket of baseballs stood at home plate. “Besides—” he aimed a thumb toward Josh “—I imagine this one’s hungry.”
Josh rubbed his stomach. “Mighty hungry, Mom.”
The comment put Courtney’s feet in motion. Herding her brood up the hill to the car, she called a quick “See you at the next practice” over her shoulder.
By the time she strapped Addie into her car seat and loaded the stroller into the trunk, Travis had stepped up to the plate. He grabbed one of the balls from the bucket, tossed it into the air and smacked it into center field. Courtney wrenched her eyes away from the strain of po
werful muscles. She absolutely refused to stare at slim hips that twisted as Travis sent another ball flying. She wouldn’t.
Well, just one more.
A metallic crack sounded through the night air.
“Mom, can we stop to eat on the way home?”
Courtney licked her lips and mumbled, “No. We’re having fish sticks for supper.”
Tearing her eyes from the field, she spotted her son making the kind of face mothers all over the world had learned to ignore. She thrust the key into the ignition. She turned it and was rewarded with…nothing but a click.
The engine, unlike her heart, didn’t even try to turn over.
Travis reached into the bucket and grabbed another ball. A short upward thrust sent it straight over his head. He timed the downward arc, swinging the bat in a dance he’d long since perfected.
Toss. Snap. Contact.
The ball sailed well beyond the reach of the tallest infielder. It bounced, then rolled across the grass behind first base. Damn. He’d wanted to put that one in center field. He rolled his shoulders and began again.
Why he felt the need to take his frustrations out on a bat and a ball, he wasn’t quite sure. The team, his usual concern at this point in the season, didn’t merit a second thought. His returning players had retained most of their knowledge over the nine months since they’d last run out onto the field together. Some of the boys had even attended midwinter camps in nearby Viera.
He tossed another ball and smacked it into left field. Had he encouraged his team to invest too much in baseball? While he was glad they’d shown an interest beyond Little League, he wouldn’t want to raise false hopes. None of the boys would ever make it to the pros. In fact, only one of them even had a whisper of a chance. He suspected Josh possessed that rare combination of natural talent and physical strength that put him heads above the average player. Yet he’d never stepped onto a field before tryouts.
What kind of father didn’t teach his child to swing a bat, field a ball?
Travis shook his head in disbelief. Josh was outgoing, eager to learn, passionate about baseball. Any man would be proud to call him son. Any man worth his salt, that was. But according to Courtney, Josh’s dad hadn’t shown much interest in the boy.
As the curvy little blonde invaded his thoughts, Travis’s bat sliced cleanly through the chill evening air. The ball thudded onto the red clay at his feet.
Women! He tapped the bat against his cleats.
He whiffed the next ball and groaned. He harped on the boys, telling them to concentrate on the plays, on hitting, on the game. Yet here he was, unable to focus long enough for batting practice.
The bat he dropped landed in the dirt beside his glove. Jogging out to the field, he retrieved the balls he’d managed to hit. One by one, he dropped them into the five-gallon bucket. When it was full, he grabbed his gear and headed for the parking lot.
Forcing himself to dwell on nothing more than a shower and a good meal, Travis made it to the top of the hill before he spotted the raised hood of a car in the lot. He squinted at the compact figure leaning over the engine. His gut twisted at the plaintive wail that rose from the back seat. He covered the ground quickly, unable to stop his legs from taking longer strides than necessary.
“Need some help?” he asked the moment he came within speaking distance.
Courtney straightened. One hand perched on a slim hip, she let out an audible sigh. “Know anything about cars?”
“A bit. Let me put this away.” He hefted the bucket and watched as her eyes tracked the movement.
From the Jeep’s storage compartment, he grabbed a wrench, a rag and a flashlight. His hand hesitated over the cooler he kept stocked with Gatorade and water.
“The kids want something to drink?” he called over one shoulder.
“Yes!” came Josh’s immediate reply.
“That’d be great,” Courtney added.
Carrying a couple of bottles, he loped back the way he’d come.
While Courtney made quick work of dispensing the drinks to her children—Addie’s in a sippy cup—he studied the open engine compartment. “Here, hold this,” he said when she stood beside him again. Torn between awareness of her and the youngsters in the car, he made sure to avoid contact as he handed her the flashlight.
“Shine that over here.” He ran his fingers along the belts, searching for tears. “They’re a little worn, but they aren’t broken,” he said a minute later. He checked the fluid levels and cable connections. “So far, so good. Why don’t you give her a try and see what happens.”
The car sank the tiniest bit when Courtney slid behind the wheel. Moments later he heard a click and then silence.
Travis wiped his hands on the towel he’d tucked into his waistband. “Sounds like the battery. Could be the alternator or something else, but that’s where I’d bet my money.”
Courtney rounded the car to stand beside him. “Okay,” she said tentatively. “Does that mean I need a tow truck?”
He noted her troubled frown. “Not necessarily. I’ll jump you.”
Her head canted. Wisps of hair fell forward, and Travis curled his fingers, fighting the urge to brush the tendrils from her face. He had no doubt that Courtney’s whispered “I bet you say that to all the girls” was meant for his ears alone.
“Not as many as you might think,” he answered. With the raised hood shielding them, he met and held her gaze. “And none for quite some time,” he added, his voice low.
An urge he fought to deny swept him when her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. One gesture, the slightest shift toward her, and he knew she’d step into his embrace. His grip on the wrench tightened. He took a step back.
Standing in the middle of a parking lot in front of a broken-down car and with her two kids fussing in the back seat, yeah. Talk about bad timing.
“Hold on. I have a pair of cables in the Jeep.” Turning, he used the reprieve to get his libido under control.
At her side once more, he glanced her way. Gone was the starry-eyed gaze that had transformed her expression only seconds earlier. He bent to the job at hand. A couple of swipes of his rag cleaned the battery connections. He attached the cables, red first, then black. Sliding behind the wheel of the Jeep, he cranked it up and let the engine run.
“Okay, now, when I say ‘Go,’ start your engine,” he called to Courtney. He watched while she got into position. “Go.”
The aging sedan roared to life.
He crossed to her door. Leaning down, he braced his arms on her window frame. “Leave it in Park. You’ll need to let it run for a few minutes.”
From behind the wheel, where she was safely out of reach, Courtney peered up at him. “For a baseball player, you know your way around cars.”
“Self-preservation.” Travis raised one shoulder and let it drop. “Everybody thinks you make it to the pros, you’re in the money. But players in the minor leagues don’t earn much. To get by, I learned which diners served the biggest helpings at the cheapest price and taught myself how to handle routine car maintenance. All that would have changed if I’d made it to the Show, but…” He shrugged again. “Never did.”
“Well, thanks for this. Who knows how long we’d have been stuck here.”
Courtney’s hand brushed his. The jolt of electricity that shot through him had nothing to do with jumper cables or batteries. It was all Courtney.
From the back seat, Addie raised another squall that turned his insides to mush. Pulling away from the car, he straightened.
“Sounds like she could use some dinner.” He squelched an offer to take them out for burgers. Getting even more tied up with Courtney and her family was exactly what he did not need to do.
“The car’s okay to drive now?”
Was that longing in her blue eyes? In the gloom of the darkened sky, it was hard to tell.
“I’ll follow you,” he said before he could stop himself. He swallowed and argued that he was only making sure her vehicl
e didn’t die and leave her stranded on a busy street. His gut told him it was more than that.
Even when he was back in his own driver’s seat and safely out of touching distance, Courtney still exerted a pull on him. He followed her car’s taillights and knew he was doomed. No matter how much he told himself it was a bad idea, he couldn’t deny the part of him that wanted to give a relationship with the perky blonde a chance.
Careful, now.
He didn’t want to be that guy, the one who hurt Josh and Addie, when he left for Norfolk or wherever the Cannons sent him. Especially not after what the children had already been through. His mom had had a boyfriend or two. Eventually, they’d disappeared, which had been as difficult for him and his brother as it had been for her.
When Courtney pulled to a stop in front of Coffee on Brevard, he was no closer to deciding how to proceed than he’d been at the field. But helping out was in his nature, so he reached into the glove box and pulled out a business card from a man whose son used to play for the Sluggers.
“Here,” he said, handing it to her moments later. “Bill runs an auto repair shop up on U.S. 1. He’ll give you the team price on a new battery.”
And with that, Travis walked away knowing he should leave the rest up to Courtney but equally certain he wouldn’t.
Chapter Six
“Mom, Coach Oak is here.”
Courtney looked up from the fresh diaper she was sliding beneath her daughter’s bare bottom.
Travis?
Hurriedly, she tugged Addie’s little legs into a clean pair of overalls and gave the baby a quick hug. She set Addie in her walker and watched the little girl scoot down the hall.
Courtney glanced down. She looked a fright in an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt. A mix of curiosity and indignation swirled through her. Whatever had brought Travis to her door on a school night, she hoped it was important.
Fingers crossed, she followed in Addie’s wake. Her pace slowed to a halt at the end of the hall, where she took in the scene before her. Her lips parted.
