Dipping In A Toe

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for Linda Carroll-Bradd

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Dipping in a Toe

  by

  Linda Carroll-Bradd

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Dipping in a Toe

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Linda Carroll-Bradd

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Last Rose of Summer Edition, 2013

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-834-9

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for Linda Carroll-Bradd

  STEPPING OUT OF LINE

  “This is a story I plan to revisit on a regular basis because I really enjoyed nearly everything about it. I’m also looking for more books by the author, because her talent wowed me from the first paragraph, and I don’t think I’m easily wowed.”

  ~Poppy, Long and Short Reviews

  A LEGEND OF IRELAND

  “Having been to Ireland myself, the author described it in such a way that brought back all of the beauty and magic of Ireland to me. The characters, the settings, the atmosphere in the small church and at the wake were nicely done. My only complaint: the story was too short. A perfectly magical Irish love story to be enjoyed in March.”

  ~Starla,- Got Romance Reviews (4 Diamonds)

  TEN FANTASY WISHES

  “TEN FANTASY WISHES definitely lives up to its title even though it’s a short story. Linda brings out an average woman just trying to make ends meet and learn to live on her own and introduces her to a man who just wants to win her love forever. I loved it, just wished it were a little longer.”

  ~Lena, Fallen Angel Reviews (4 Angels)

  Dedication

  To my husband Randy,

  who after 36 years together,

  still makes me laugh almost every day.

  Chapter One

  The minute I pulled into a parking slot at the Lorenzo Community Aquatics Center, both back car doors flew open. Two sets of tennis shoes hit the asphalt and pounding footsteps hit the pavement as my kids sped off. “Bye, Mom.”

  “Careful. Watch out—” I bit my lip to keep from uttering more words of caution. Of course, they’d run—what teen wants to be seen with their mom? Over the last six months, they’d regained their independence and were more spontaneous about venturing from my side. I swallowed against the dry lump threatening to close off my throat.

  The effects of their father’s sudden death three years earlier were finally ebbing—only to present new challenges that I sometimes felt unskilled to tackle. How long before I—Jessa Langdon, struggling single mother—stopped worrying about circumstances I couldn’t change?

  With jerky moves, I gathered my slouch purse and a fluffy beach towel then slammed the door to my ancient compact car and punched the lock on the key fob.

  A late Indian summer heated the northern California air and today promised to be another warm one. For the umpteenth time since putting it on this morning, I tugged at the neckline of my new aqua tank top. An impulse buy on the clearance rack at the department store, the clingy top had a cut lower than I usually wore.

  “Hi, Jessa.” Her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, Christy Simms waited at the gate to the city swimming pool, grinning. “Whoa, looking good.”

  Leave it to a best friend to notice the fashion details. Grinning, I fingered the shirt’s hem. “Thanks. I couldn’t resist the color.” Or the way the top, paired with my white walking shorts, highlighted the tan I’d earned watching Adam and Sadie’s swim team practices for the past two months. The same practices being coached by the first man who’d caught my eye and made my blood pump a bit faster since I became a widow.

  With a nod at Christy, I walked through the open gate and immediately scanned the area for my kids. God, I really had to start thinking of them as teens or youth. They hated the term kids and weren’t shy about telling me so.

  They’d separated into their respective age groups and chatted with their teammates waiting on the pool deck.

  Adam, wiry and brown-haired like his dad, struggled to match the speed of the older boys in the fifteen-to sixteen-year-old group. Sadie, blue-eyed and with a body that copied my more athletic one, was just happy to be with her friends in the twelve-year-old group. Competition wasn’t her thing.

  As if pulled by an invisible thread, my gaze went to the tall, fit man with the ever-present clipboard in one hand and a stopwatch in the other. Normally, an adult wearing tropical-print board shorts and a faded T-shirt appeared to cling with desperation to his youth. Instead, Rick Grant wore the attire as a soldier would a medal of honor—like he’d earned the right to promote a decade earlier Hawaiian surfing competition.

  Maybe he had. The image of his tan, lean body balancing on top of a surfboard flittered through my mind. I pictured him, thinner but still muscular, body sparkling with water droplets, wavy hair streaked with blonde highlights, outlined against a cerulean blue sky. Wonder if he wore a goatee back then? But who was I kidding? This guy was several years younger than I. A heartfelt sigh escaped.

  Christy stopped in her ascent up the metal bleachers, glanced over her shoulder, and cocked her head. “You okay?”

  Caught. I whirled toward the tiered viewing area and set a foot on the lowest step. “I’m fine. Where do you want to sit?” Heat burned my cheeks. I held my long hair away from my face and ducked my head, pretending the need to focus on placing my wedge sandals on each step. I didn’t want the other mothers to learn about my pathetic infatuation with the swim coach.

  An infatuation I kept telling myself was wrong. Didn’t I have enough to do between my paralegal job, keeping up the house, managing the kids’ activities, and arranging visits with their grandparents? How could I possibly add dating to this hectic lifestyle?

  Even if by some wild chance the man in question were to show interest…

  “Hey, Jessa, you setting a new fashion trend?” With a laugh, dark-haired Susanne Clark stood and waved a hand at her faded denim cutoffs and polo shirt advertising her kids’ school. “Trying to make the rest of us look bad?”

  “Of course not.” A tinge of embarrassment settled over my thoughts. Maybe I had gone too far with a half-dozen, silver bangle bracelets and big hoop earrings. I tossed the thick towel on the metal bench two rows up and sat, settling my purse between my feet. “After the meet, I’m taking the kids to visit with Dylan’s folks.”

  Christy placed a hand on my arm, her brows pulled into a scowl. “But you’re coming to the pizza party? I’ve been looking forward to a long catching-up talk.”

  “Are you kidding? The kids look at the party as their just reward for a season well done.” Plus I had no compunction about using the team party as a perfect excuse to put a limit on the time spent with the elderly
Langdons.

  A person could listen to her late husband idealized for only so long. The man had his flaws, some worse than others, but not according to his parents. Plus they expected my active kids to sit in a living room that looked more like a designer showcase and not disturb a single knick-knack or collectible. Visits with my former in-laws were best endured when kept short.

  Not to mention, I couldn’t deny the wish to see Rick in a social setting. Maybe we’d find we had similar interests or even engage in a bit of flirty conversation. I flashed my friend a smile. “We’re all looking forward to the event.”

  For the next two hours, I focused my concentration where it belonged—on my children. I watched with heart in mouth as they stood on the pool deck, poised to dive into their assigned lanes, silently urging them to just do their best. That’s all I really wanted for them—and from them.

  Unable to stop myself, I held my breath until they’d stroked through the churning water and safely put a hand on the concrete lip of the opposite side. Their father may have lived with a devil-may-care attitude, always pushing them to challenge themselves. But he wasn’t here any longer, and the widow part of me saw danger in everyday events. A response they both resisted, most vocally, and I tried my best to repress.

  Sadie’s last race was over and she sat on the deck, wrapped in her seashell-printed towel, whispering and giggling with Christy’s daughter, Noelle. Sadie—my sweet, happy angel who still loved me to cuddle up beside her to say goodnight. If only I could keep her like this…

  An elbow jabbed my side, and Christy leaned close and pointed at the pool. “Erick and Adam are up next. Think they have a chance?”

  “Erick’s got a year on Adam, but Adam’s improved so much these last couple of weeks.” In my mind, I gave a big part of the credit to Rick for his devoted training. My gaze drifted to the handsome man walking behind each contestant, checking their foot positions at the edge of the pool. Because I paid attention, I noticed him leaning close and whispering to each of his team members. Last words of encouragement—or challenge.

  When he reached Adam, I imagined myself in my son’s position with Rick leaning in close. Whispered words, warm breath on my cheek, scent of heated male skin—how I’d missed the closeness of a man. A longing pulled in my belly, and I squirmed on the bench.

  The starting beep sounded over the loudspeaker and my attention jerked back to the pool. Adam’s sinewy arms chopped the water of the third lane and his strong legs created a shimmery wake. He passed a couple of swimmers, his strokes coming faster and his speed increasing.

  “Look at that.” Heart pounding, I jumped to my feet, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Come on, Adam. You can do it, buddy.”

  With a last burst of energy, he put down his head, stroked hard, and touched the wall for second place in the freestyle match.

  “Wahoo!” Pride and excitement shot through me. I pumped a victory fist in the air and scanned the pool deck, looking for Rick. The need to share this victory with someone else, like I would have done with Dylan, welled in my throat.

  Rick stood on the deck angled toward the bleachers, not facing the tired, but elated, swimmers emerging from the pool. Sporting a mile-wide smile, he flashed me a thumbs-up sign.

  How had he known? The cheers of other spectators muted, and my vision focused on Rick’s intent gaze directed my way. The look was the type of attention that I suddenly craved. Tears welled in my eyes, and I blinked hard to beat them back.

  Christy enveloped me in a tight hug and swayed. “Hey, our guys came in second and third. They’ll be happy with that.”

  The secret congratulatory moment was gone but I’d savor it a long time. I returned my friend’s hug, trying to talk around the sudden lump in my throat. “Dylan would have been so proud.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Her arms squeezed tighter and then she pushed me to arm’s length, her blue-eyed gaze searching. “You have everything so together that sometimes I forget.”

  With my fingertips, I swiped at my moist eyes and shrugged. “That’s okay, Christy. I do my best to love them enough for both of us.”

  The next quarter hour was spent applauding the winners of the various races. My heart swelled with motherly pride at the announcement of Adam Langdon as second place in the fifteen-to sixteen-year-old freestyle event. An urge to wrap him in a bear hug overwhelmed me, but I knew I’d have to restrain that exuberance into a single fist-tap to his shoulder—the only public display of affection he allowed.

  “Let’s go congratulate our champs.” We gathered our belongings and followed the crowd from the bleachers.

  Once on the concrete pool deck, Christy was stopped by another mom and they started chatting.

  Knowing our afternoon schedule was full, I waved in her direction. “See you later.” Then I turned toward the swarm of competitors and ran smack into a wall of taut muscle—a wonderfully fit male body. Large hands gripped my arms.

  “Hey, slow down.”

  The rumbly voice was familiar. Rick? A gasp escaped. I looked up and met his laughing, blue-eyed gaze. Gorgeous dark blue eyes that reminded me of ocean depths. A tremble ran through my insides. “I’m sorry, Coach. I was—”

  “Coach?” His grip loosened, but his hands still held on. “The name’s Rick.”

  The strength of his long fingers on my arms, holding me in place, felt good. Hell, sharing a few words with a male adult was a great experience.

  I scanned his face, noting the crinkle lines at the corners of his eyes and his firm lips surrounded by a blondish-brown goatee. He really was a handsome man. Afraid of what he’d see in my expression, I dipped my chin, which only directed my gaze right toward his tanned, muscular legs. Such nice legs. “Okay…Rick. I should have been paying better attention.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

  My head came up, heart rate beating like a flutter kick. “You did?” Had he possibly taken notice of me in the same way I’d noticed him? Maybe because of today’s outfit?

  His feet shuffled on the concrete deck as someone brushed close but his gaze held steady. “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about how much Adam has improved. He must be doing something else to develop his endurance.”

  Adam? This conversation was about my son’s performance? Rick wasn’t sharing a personal comment. Sheer pride kept my shoulders from sagging in disappointment. “I noticed. And I know I have”—I cleared my throat and started again—“all the parents have you to thank.”

  My skin tingled where his roughened fingers still gripped my arms. A protective gesture that made me want to melt against his body. The exact type of gesture that I’d missed for so long. “He started a bicycle paper route about a month ago. Maybe that’s why.”

  “A job like that would certainly help. Plus he has a great cheering section.” He crimped his lips and gave a slow wink.

  “Er, Mom, why is Coach holding you?” Sadie waited close by, dressed in shorts and her swim team shirt. A vinyl beach bag decorated with pink flowers holding her suit and towel hung from her hand.

  At Sadie’s question, I pulled free and scanned the area, instantly aware that others may have wondered the same thing. Not good to draw attention to this infatuation I was trying—and failing miserably—to hide. I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and my bracelets jangled.

  Christy stood a few feet away, next to her kids, but her arched eyebrows telegraphed her rampant curiosity. Other faces in the crowd blurred, but several—the Olsons, Sally Nelson, and Nan Truitt—were turned in our direction.

  The curse of living in a small town. My body stiffened and my chin rose. “Um, we bumped into each other and he was helping me balance.” Even to my own ears, the truth sounded like a flimsy excuse. I linked my arm through hers and swung her around. “Let’s go find your brother. We’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of us.”

  “Wait, Jessa.”

  Unable to resist the underlying command in Rick’s voice, I looked over my shoulder.
Did he have something personal to say?

  His gaze shot upward from viewing my legs, a grin quirking the corner of his mouth. “See you at Pizza Palace?” He waited, standing with legs apart and arms crossed over his chest—the perfect image of a confident male.

  “We’ll be there.” When I headed toward the group of jostling teen boys, I couldn’t deny the spring in my step and the sizzle running through my bloodstream.

  He’d noticed.

  Chapter Two

  “Mom, we’re gonna be late.” Adam slouched against the car’s passenger door and adjusted his music player earbuds.

  “Not too late, buddy.” I glanced toward the electric door of the discount women’s store. “Besides, you don’t want me showing up at your team pizza party with a big punch stain on my clothes. Wouldn’t that be more embarrassing than being a few minutes late?” Not to mention my unwillingness to look like a bedraggled mom to one male in particular.

  “Whatever.” He shot me a sideways look, shrugged, and leaned his head against the window. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Coming, Sadie?” I opened the door and stepped out. The asphalt parking lot reflected the heat of the late afternoon sun. “Adam, leave your door open a few inches. The car will heat up fast.”

  The back door slammed and hurried footsteps followed. “I’m sorry I spilled.” Sadie apologized again, twisting her long blonde hair around a pointer finger. “I should have just asked for water. Does Grandma think we still like that sweet red stuff?”

  My purse clutched in one hand, I dashed across the lot with Sadie close behind. “Accidents happen, honey.” In the store’s entrance window, the blurred image of a harried woman, hair flying around her shoulders and eyes wide, greeted my approach.

  I stopped and took a deep breath. Quit acting like a mad woman. “I don’t know why she still buys that punch, but accepting what’s offered was the polite thing to do.”

  I reached out and squeezed Sadie’s hand, grateful she still enjoyed this closeness. “Now help me pick out the color of shorts to buy.”