by Beth Andrews
“What?” Faith tucked her hands behind her back. “Oh, I don’t—”
“She’ll be fine. Michelle’s not the least bit shy. See? She already wants you.” The baby held her arms toward Faith, babbling incoherently. “Please. I need to get upstairs to supervise those two. It’ll only be a few minutes.”
What else could she do? Especially after the baby practically threw herself at Faith. Lauren rushed out of the room.
Though she hadn’t held a baby in close to eight years, it all came back to her. Faith pulled the bottom of Michelle’s red gingham sundress down to cover her diaper, then couldn’t resist rubbing her cheek against her soft flaxen curls.
“You’re a doll, aren’t you?” she asked, and Michelle babbled some more.
Then she patted Faith’s face with her chubby hand. “Mum-mum.”
Faith laughed. “Not quite. And you’d better not let your mommy hear you calling other women that or you’ll hurt her feelings.”
“Lauren’s used to it,” Nick said from behind her. Faith jumped and whirled around. Michelle giggled and batted her shoulder. “Michelle calls everyone mum-mum. Even her daddy.”
Faith forced herself to relax. To return Nick’s smile. She hadn’t been alone with him since that humiliating moment when Kathleen had interrupted them earlier. Though she’d tried not to, she’d found herself searching for him several times as she’d visited with his family and close friends. Found herself wanting to be with him.
Nick carried two plates loaded from Andrea’s designated dessert table. “I thought I’d better bring you some before it’s gone. Besides, you’ve been in here for thirty minutes. You must’ve worked up an appetite.”
Instead of being panicked at the idea of him watching her so carefully, she was actually…flattered.
“You keeping an eye on me?” she asked, flirtatiously. All part of her act, she told herself.
“Always,” he said with a wink. He looked around. “Where’s Brit?”
“She’s upstairs with Julie and Lauren.”
“Good. Then I can eat her dessert.”
Trevor and Austin raced into the kitchen from the hallway. They were both wearing swim trunks now and had towels around their necks.
“Mom,” Austin said, “can me and Trevor go swimming?”
“May Trevor and I go swimming,” she corrected automatically.
He sent Trevor a moms-are-so-lame look. “Yeah. That’s what I meant. So, can I?”
“I don’t know,” she hedged. “It’s been a few years since you took swimming lessons—”
“You let me go swimming at the public pool at the park,” he said.
“That’s different. They have trained lifeguards.”
“Aunt Marie is getting in with Dana,” Trevor said. “And my uncle Steve and Ethan are going to watch us from the deck. Uncle Steve’s a doctor and Ethan can do CPR and stuff.”
She bit her lower lip. Steve was a doctor, but she wasn’t sure how much a dermatologist knew about saving a drowning victim. Still, there were plenty of people milling around if the boys got into trouble. And Austin had been at the swimming pool with Trevor almost daily for the past two weeks. When she’d picked him up last week, she’d seen his improved skills when he swam the length of the pool for her.
She nibbled on her thumbnail. “I suppose it’s all right….”
“Thanks, Mom!”
They were out the door and racing across the yard before she could remind them not to dive into the shallow end or run on the pool deck.
“Do you want to go out?” Nick asked. “There are plenty of places to sit and watch.”
Through the family room picture window Faith could just make out Austin’s head as he and Trevor reached the pool. Ethan said something to Trevor, making the boy laugh. Then Ethan scooped him up and tossed him into the water. Her shoulders stiffened when Austin got tossed in next. She only relaxed when she spied both boys laughing as they climbed out the other side.
“No,” Faith said, loosening her hold on Michelle when the baby began to squirm. “He’ll be fine.”
No one here was going to hurt him. Her boy was safe.
“Come on,” Nick said, gesturing to the family room. “Let’s sit.”
Not waiting to see if she followed, he walked over to the plush love seat in front of the window. By the time Faith reached him, he’d set the plates on a glass-topped coffee table and taken forks and napkins from his back pocket.
She stopped at the end of the love seat and realized that from this vantage point she had a clear view of the pool. And her son.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” Nick said as he took a squirming Michelle onto his own knee. “So I brought some of everything.”
Then he smiled at Faith. Before she could rationalize her feelings or what she was about to do next, she leaned down and kissed him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NICK’S BREATH BACKED UP in his lungs as Faith’s lips clung to his for a heartbeat. Then two. The muted sounds of the ongoing celebration outside filtered into his sister’s living room. Wrapping his arm around the baby, he cupped the back of Faith’s head with his free hand, his fingers delving into her hair.
Michelle squealed and hit Faith’s cheek with her chubby fists. Laughing softly, Faith leaned back. “Looks like someone’s jealous.”He loosened his hold on her, sliding his palm over her bare shoulder and down her arm. “I’m popular with the toddler set.”
Michelle bounced in an effort to get his attention, and he lifted her so she stood on his legs. He tore his gaze from Faith long enough to kiss the baby’s smooth cheek. “You’re still my number one girl,” he told Michelle.
Seemingly satisfied with that, she babbled some more, then did a few deep knee bends, her hands wrapped around his fingers for support.
“Should I ask what that was for?” he said to Faith as she sat down close enough to him for their knees to touch. “Or just be grateful and keep my mouth shut?”
Not that he wasn’t grateful. But other than that kiss she’d laid on him at the salon, she rarely initiated any type of physical contact between them. This kiss had been different. More…real.
“Maybe it was a thank-you because you brought me cake.”
“Don’t forget the brownie,” he reminded her. “And I wrestled that last piece of my mom’s blueberry pie away from Ethan.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It was touch and go for a moment.”
“But you prevailed. My hero.” Then she kissed his cheek, laughing when Michelle pushed her away.
“Next time I’ll bring you the whole damn pie,” he promised solemnly.
Faith’s smile dimmed. “It wasn’t just for the food—although I would’ve been very disappointed if I’d missed out on blueberry pie. It was for…everything. For suggesting we sit here so I have a clear view of Austin in the pool, instead of making me feel overprotective because I’m nervous about him swimming. For asking your sister to invite—”
“Brit has a big mouth,” Nick grumbled, feeling like a child. “I would’ve asked you myself, but I thought you might feel too awkward.”
“You were right. I’m not sure I would’ve come if you’d asked instead of Britney. You’re always doing stuff like that, making things easier for me. Being considerate and kind and caring.” Instead of sounding as if she appreciated those things, though, her tone indicated that they somehow pissed her off. “You shared your family with me and my son, you taught me how to hit a ball past the pitcher’s hill—”
“Pitcher’s mound.”
“You like babies and kids and they all seem to adore you right back. You’re great with Austin and you keep your promises.” She picked at the spotless love seat, her voice barely above a whisper when she asked, “How could I not want to kiss you?”
His pulse was pounding in his ears, and he didn’t know if he should laugh, be insulted at her obvious displeasure or apologize. “How about we stick with me being grateful?”
&nb
sp; Lifting her head, she exhaled with a laugh. “That’s probably the best choice.”
Michelle reached for the plate of desserts. “You’re not the only one who’s glad I brought these.” Setting her back on his knee, he scooped up red velvet cake with a plastic spoon and fed it to her before taking a larger bite himself. He grunted in appreciation.
“Did you make this?” he asked.
Picking up the plate he’d brought her, Faith nodded. “Mi— Uh, my ex didn’t like it, so I haven’t made it in a long time. I hope it’s not too dry….”
He took another bite before giving Michelle more. “Even better than Andrea’s.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice. “And if you tell her I said that, I’ll deny it.”
“She won’t hear it from me.”
Scraping frosting off Michelle’s chin with the side of the spoon, he winked at Faith. “I knew I could trust you.”
Why that made her blanch and duck her head, he wasn’t sure. But the hair at the nape of his neck stood on end. She was still holding something back.
After glancing out the window—presumably to check on Austin—Faith set her plate on her lap and started in on the pie. Michelle squealed, holding her arms out and opening and closing her chubby hands. Faith gave her some of the filling and the baby grimaced comically, her lips puckering even as she continued to smack her lips.
Nick laughed and nuzzled her neck until she giggled. “You’d better stick with the cake there, kiddo.”
“She’s adorable,” Faith said, smoothing back Michelle’s fuzzy, flaxen hair. “When I was pregnant, I’d hoped I was having a girl. Someone I could dress in frilly clothes, do her hair and show her off.”
“Like a living doll?” Nick asked, setting a squirming Michelle down. She crawled over to a large basket of magazines and began tossing them out one by one.
“I guess so. But then everything changed.” Faith put her plate on the coffee table and stood, crossing to look out the window. “When I held Austin for the first time, I stopped wishing for that little girl. He was mine and that was all that mattered.”
Nick ground his back teeth so he wouldn’t spit out the questions burning on his tongue. He’d promised he wouldn’t ask her anything about her past, and damn it, he’d keep his word. Even if it killed him not to know why her reflective tone had an underlying sadness, instead of joy, as she recalled her son’s birth.
He picked up Michelle who, now that the basket was almost empty, had plopped down on her diapered butt to rip those magazines apart, and joined Faith at the window.
“Good form,” Nick commented, when Austin did a cannonball into the pool. “Although if you want to see a big splash, wait until Ethan gets in. It’s like a tsunami.”
They stood in companionable silence watching Austin and Trevor try to outsplash each other.
“Thank you,” Faith said softly. He glanced at her but she continued to stare outside. “Thank you for sharing your family. I’ve never had this…” She gestured outside. “For the most part it’s just been me and Austin. I’ve never been able to count on anyone else.”
Hitching Michelle to one side, he wrapped an arm around Faith’s waist. She tensed momentarily, but then relaxed against him, laying her head against his shoulder.
“You can count on me,” he vowed. And that was a promise he meant to keep.
TWO DAYS LATER, Nick carried a case of soda in each hand as he walked up the steps and into the dusty converted trailer the baseball teams used as a concession stand. The sunlight filtering in through the open door, even combined with a shop light overhead, did little to break up the gloomy shadows inside.
“Did you get it yet?” Nick asked as he set the soda down. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead.“Almost,” Austin said, grunting as he tried to move the heavy plywood that covered the opening where people could order their snacks or drinks. Even standing on a step stool, he was a few inches too short.
“Here,” Nick said, coming up behind him. “Let me give you a hand.” He reached around Austin and swung the plywood up. “Can you latch it?”
Nodding, Austin leaned onto the ledge, stretched up and placed the heavy metal hook into the metal ring.
Nick let go and backed up. “Great. Now why don’t we—”
“Austin?”
“Sounds like your mom’s looking for you,” Nick said, sliding the step stool under the counter next to the commercial-size cooler. “You’d better let her know where you’re at.”
“Austin!” Faith called again, her tone frantic.
Glancing outside, Nick spotted her racing past the Port-A-Potties, her voice rising as she shouted her son’s name again.
“I’m right here,” Austin said from the doorway.
“In the concession stand,” Nick added, when she whirled toward them. Nick crouched and set a bottle of grape flavored sports drink in the cooler.
Bursting inside, Faith blanched as she stared at her shirtless son. “Oh, my God,” she breathed, her voice unsteady, a book clutched to her chest. “What happened?” Grabbing Austin’s arm, she shoved him behind her. “What did you do to him?” she demanded of Nick.
In the process of reaching for another bottle, he froze. “Do to him?”
“I’m helping Nick,” Austin said quickly, brushing past Faith to stand between them. “We’re just putting stuff away in here.”
“You need a kid to help you?” Her suspicious tone irritated Nick until he saw real fear in her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to be alone in here with a half-naked child?”
Nick rose and shut the cooler door. “What are you accusing me of, Faith?” he asked softly.
“Mom, we’re just helping Coach, that’s all,” Austin said, his voice strangled with humiliation.
Wild-eyed, she glanced at her son. “We?”
“Me and Trevor and Trevor’s mom. She’s the one who brought the drinks, and since we were early for practice she asked if we could put them away.”
“Kathleen left not three minutes ago,” Nick said, realizing he still held the bottle when his grip dented the hard plastic. He set it on top of an unopened case of soda. “Trevor went with her because he left his batting gloves in the car. I’m surprised you didn’t see them.”
Faith blinked. “I didn’t. I—”
“Other than those three minutes,” Nick continued, in the same calm tone he used when trying to diffuse a potentially volatile situation on the job, “I haven’t been alone with your son. If you want that confirmed, I can give you Kathleen’s cell phone number.”
“But…his shirt…”
“Trevor and I took them off,” Austin said, pulling their shirts from the metal table where the boxes of candy would be set up for sale. “It’s, like, a bajillion degrees in here.”
More like ninety, but given that Nick’s own shirt clung to him and the hair at his neck was damp with sweat, he could appreciate Austin’s estimate.
“The Whites and Gage are here,” Trevor said, sticking his head and bare shoulders in the doorway.
“Why don’t you two go on out with them and start warming up?” Nick said. “I’ll be there as soon as I’ve finished.”
“Don’t forget,” Trevor said, as he took his shirt from Austin and pulled it over his head, “you promised we could have sliding practice today.”
Nick set the dented bottle aside and ripped open the case of soda. “How can I forget when you guys have reminded me about a dozen times already?”
Trevor ducked out again, but Faith stopped Austin before he could follow suit. “Next time you’re going to leave the field area, ask me first. Do you understand me?”
“But you weren’t here—”
“Then you’ll have to wait until I get back,” she said firmly.
“Fine,” he mumbled, and then bolted.
Opening the cooler door, Nick began setting cans of soda on the middle shelf. Faith cleared her throat. “I…I owe you another apology.”
“Nope.”
<
br /> He sensed, more than saw, her surprise. “But—”
“You were protecting your son. And I shouldn’t have asked Austin to help me without getting your permission first.”
After a moment of stunned silence, Faith asked, “Did you just admit you were wrong?”
He shoved the next can onto the shelf with enough force to tip it over. From the disbelief in her voice, you’d think he was some sort of egotistical asshole. “It’s unusual—the being wrong part,” he said drily, straightening the can, “but chances were it was bound to happen at least once in my life.”
“I still overreacted. The book I’d been waiting for came in at the library—” she held up the paperback “—and Austin was in such a hurry to get here, I dropped him off. But when I came back and couldn’t find him…”
Nick stood and closed the cooler door. “Like I said, it was my fault.”
The sight of her looking so uncertain and remorseful made him want to take her in his arms and console her. To promise her he’d never hurt her or Austin. To pretend she hadn’t acted as if he’d done something unspeakable to her son.
Turning away, he concentrated on breaking down the cardboard soda container. “We were both wrong,” he said, more gruffly than he’d intended. He tucked the flattened box in the recycling bin and pulled the plywood sash shut. “I’d better get out there. The rest of the kids will be here any minute.”
She blocked his exit. Lifting a hand as if to touch him, she dropped it back to her side when he stepped back. “Nick, please, I—”
He shook his head. “Not now. We can talk about it later but…” He stabbed a hand through his hair and exhaled heavily. “Just not now.”
She pulled her shoulders back, and for a moment he didn’t think she’d give him the time he needed to process everything that had just happened. And what it all meant. He needed that time. And that distance from her.
Luckily, she only swallowed and then walked away.
Nick crossed to the door but couldn’t make himself step out into the bright sunlight. Not yet. He pulled it shut and turned off the light, enclosing the trailer in darkness. Pressure built inside his chest, his breathing grew rapid, his hands curled into fists. With a low growl he spun and punched the side of the cooler. Pain shot up his arm, but the only thing that stopped him from pummeling the thing was the awareness that if he broke his hand, he couldn’t work.
