by T. J. Kline
“I might be able to at that.” She looked over at the jungle gym to see James standing on a bridge, waving at them. Grant waved back before she could.
“You’re a lucky mom.” His voice sounded wistful and she wondered for a moment at the regret she could easy read in his face.
“It’s not like you’re Rip van Winkle.” She grabbed a handful of grass and threw it at him, watching the blades rain onto the t-shirt stretched over his flat abs. “You sound like you’ll never have kids.”
He plucked one of the blades from his shirt and twirled it between his fingers. “The life I’ve got doesn’t exactly lend itself well to having a family. Maybe down the road a ways, but I’m not the kind of guy who’d want to leave my wife and kids behind six months out of the year. Serious relationships and football travel don’t work for me.”
Bethany saw a shadow of a frown cross his brow before it was gone just as quickly. “You want to be a hands-on dad.”
“Exactly.”
She felt her stomach do one of those gymnastic flips. What would it be like to love someone who loved you back enough to stick around? He rolled onto one arm and playfully tossed the grass in her direction.
“Although I’m sure there are days you’d like to run away, huh?”
“Not so many now, but when he was a baby . . .” She nodded. “Colic is the worst but it’s almost intolerable when you can’t console your child.”
“Was he . . . nevermind.”
“It’s okay.” She looked across the grass to where her son was climbing over monkey bars, hanging upside down. “He was born deaf and the doctors diagnosed it just before he was two months old. They never did figure out a reason why.” She looked back at him, knowing that she should get James and head home but unable to keep from bragging about her son. “But he’s smart. So smart. He was learning signs by the time he was six months old.”
Suddenly a country song blared from his back pocket. Grant slid his phone out and looked at the picture on the screen. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Without waiting for a response from her, he got up and walked away to answer the call. But not before she saw a pretty woman on the screen. It was enough to kill any girlish crush she might have been feeling toward Grant McQuaid. She was not about to be “the other woman,” not for any man, even if he was famous, good-looking and charming.
She brushed off her hands and stood up, slapping her skirt to knock off any grass and made her way to where James was swinging.
“We should get going. I have to fix dinner.”
“Awwww!”
She’d expected his discontentment, even an argument, but she hadn’t expected her own frustrated disappointment. Grant seemed like a nice guy, someone who would have made her think twice about her no-dating policy. But she had James to think about and, obviously from the picture on his phone, Grant already had someone else in his life, regardless of his comments about his job not being compatible with relationships. It was serious enough that he didn’t want whoever she was to know he was with another woman.
It was better this way. The fact that she would even consider him dating material was reason enough to stay away from him.
SWIPING THE PICTURE of his mother on his cell phone, Grant answered. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
“You brother tells me you’re not coming to dinner tonight? Were you planning on letting me know?”
“I was going to call when I knew for sure.” He turned back in time to see Bethany rise and head toward the playground where James was. He began walking back in their direction. “Don’t hold dinner for me tonight but thanks for thinking of me, Mom.” He hated feeling like a thirty-two-year-old child, living with his parents again, even if it was only temporarily.
“Jackson said something about a girl?”
He was going to kill his brother when he got home. “I’m actually just hanging out with her kid here at the park. He’s a fan.”
“Jackson said his mother was really pretty and . . .” She squealed in surprise, making him cringe and hold the phone away from his ear. “Hi, Maddie. I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
“Mom, I’ll let you go since Maddie’s there.” Grant disconnected the call before she remembered what they’d been discussing. He’d only managed to avoid the “when are you going to make me a grandmother” discussion because his sister had chosen that moment to arrive. He’d be sure to give her an extra tight hug of gratitude when he saw her next.
He hurried over to the jungle gym. He’d heard Bethany telling James they had to leave but he really wanted to talk to her again before she left. He liked her, more than he knew he should, and he liked her son. He knew he shouldn’t get in any deeper, he’d even explained to her why, but it was the first time in a very long time Grant felt completely at ease with someone.
Even though Bethany knew who he was and what he did for a living, she didn’t treat him any differently than she would anyone else. His missed that. He missed being nothing more than Grant McQuaid from Hidden Falls.
“I’m starving,” he announced as he walked up to the pair. “What do you say we go grab a bite to eat, James?”
Bethany scowled at him. He wasn’t sure what he’d said or done but she seemed suddenly aloof, the way she had yesterday when dinner was suggested. He knew she could see through his tactic and fought the urge to recant his invitation. But he also knew, like yesterday, she probably wouldn’t agree unless James pressured her to accept.
James turned his face up toward his mother. “I’m hungry too, Mom.”
Thanks, kid. I owe you one.
She ran a hand over his tousled, blond hair. “You can eat when we get home.” Bethany turned her hazel eyes on Grant. “Thank you for joining James today. I’m sure it’s one of those moments he’ll never forget, playing football with his favorite Mustangs player.”
“It doesn’t have to end.” He squatted down in front of James, praying this was one of those times he could ask for forgiveness after the fact since he doubted she’d give him permission to do what he was about to.
“It doesn’t?” The little boy’s eyes were wide with excited wonder and he brushed back several sweaty strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes.
“You promised to help me work on my sign language, remember?” Grant’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he squatted down to James’ level again. “We can do that while we eat. Where do you want to go, James? I’ll take you wherever you want for dinner.”
“I don’t think—” Bethany began.
“Dino’s.”
“The pizza place?” he asked, impressed by James’ selection.
Bethany sighed. “He likes the sports memorabilia,” she explained, sounding defeated.
“Dino’s it is, then.” A half-smile curved the side of his mouth, and he deliberately avoided meeting Bethany’s gaze, hoping any irritation she might feel for him would fade before they arrived at the pizza place. “We’ll have a guy’s night.”
“Can Mom come? She’s not a guy.” James looked up at Grant with every ounce of wide-eyed innocence he possessed and Bethany bit back her laugh. Grant wanted to hug the boy right then and there for helping break the tension he could feel mounting between him and Bethany.
“You’re right, she’s not.” Grant frowned and pretended to be thinking about the dilemma before leaning closer to James and lowering his voice. “I think we can let her come this time. We’ll just pretend she’s a guy, okay?”
James’ lips pursed as he thought about it. “But she’s a mom,” he insisted. “That means she’s a girl so we can’t have a guy’s night.”
Bethany crossed her arms and cocked her head at Grant as if to say now what?
Bethany wasn’t kidding. James was smart but he was still a six-year-old. As an idea took hold, Grant smiled back at her.
“I gues
s I’m just going to have to take both of you out on a date then.”
“What’s a date?” James asked, curious about what must be a new concept.
“It’s not a date.” Bethany shot daggers his direction. “Mr. McQuaid, I’m afraid—”
James tugged at her skirt. His fingers moved quickly. I’m hungry, Mom. Let’s have pizza. Please.
Grant knew the instant she decided to give in. Her face lost the frown as she looked into the angelic face of her son, her eyes tender and soft. Adoration was written there clearly. She would rather give in to her son, in spite of her trepidation, than disappoint him.
She sighed and signed back, Fine.
Grant couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of Bethany’s relationship with her son. She loved him and he adored her. There was no mistaking it. They might not be the perfect family, but they were a family nonetheless.
Grant longed to have a family of his own. Instead, he had football. Until now, he’d never longed for anything else more. Until today, he’d never resented his career choice.
Chapter Four
GRANT PULLED INTO the half-full parking lot at Dino’s, wondering again if he shouldn’t just head home. Even he knew this went above and beyond the typical fan experience. But this was no longer about James’ being a fan. He couldn’t even convince himself this was just about James anymore. He liked the kid, had fun with him at the park today, and he liked Bethany. Somewhere between playing ball and his conversation with Bethany on the grass, he’d begun to wonder what it would be like to have more in his life.
As he climbed out of his car, he looked around for any sign that Bethany and James might already be here waiting for him. She’d insisted on taking her own car, making it painfully obvious that she didn’t want to be here with him, even though he’d been nice, polite, even gentlemanly.
Maybe you’re not her type, he thought. Maybe she’s already got a boyfriend.
Grant felt a swirl of guilt center in his stomach. What if she did?
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed likely. Her discomfort, the way she tried to keep her distance, it would all make sense if she was already taken. A woman as pretty as she was wasn’t likely to be single. But she’d repeatedly made it clear she didn’t date.
Seeing Bethany’s sedan, he slid his Camaro over the center line of two parking spots beside it. He wasn’t taking any chances with his baby. The ’69 candy-apple red Camaro had been his first big purchase after he’d been drafted and he still loved this car. It might be cliché but there was something about a man and his muscle car that just couldn’t be denied—it felt great to have that kind of power in his hands and adrenaline rushing through his veins when he opened her up on a stretch of highway.
When he didn’t immediately see Bethany or James waiting for him, he made his way to the front door, glancing at his watch. He’d been caught at the stoplight but they couldn’t have arrived more than a few minutes ahead of him. The bells over the door jingled loudly but no one even looked up as he entered. Every eye was focused on one of the pool tables. A cheer went up in the room and he moved closer. The last thing he’d expected to see was James, standing on a bench, shooting pool.
The boy looked up as he came closer. “Hi, Mr. McQuaid!”
James’ face beamed with pleasure as he hopped down from the stool, knocking one of his implant microphones off. He reached and slid it back into place.
“Come play pool with me.” James slid his hand into Grant’s and dragged him toward the table.
Grant didn’t miss the way every eye turned his direction when James said his name, or the way people around the table moved to let him through. Or the frown that slid to Bethany’s brow as soon as she saw her son holding Grant’s hand. James reached for his small cue stick and chalked it like a pro.
“I’m winning.”
“Who are you playing?”
“Me,” Billy, the youngest son of Dino’s longtime owner, complained. “I should really get back to work. Here.” He shoved the cue stick into Grant’s hands. “See if you can do better.”
Grant looked at the crowd surrounding the table, unsure what to do. The easiest move would be to miss his shots, let James win and pretend it was a fair game, but one look at Bethany was enough to cast that idea aside. She stared at him with a slight smirk on her lips, as if she was daring him to beat her son. For a moment, he got the same feeling he did when a linebacker shot him a grin during the snap count. Bethany knew something he didn’t and there was a good chance he was about to get destroyed. It also hadn’t escaped his notice that James wasn’t using a regular pool cue from the stock the pizza place kept. He had a custom-made cue stick, just the right size for him. It was unusual and kicked his curiosity into high gear.
Grant worked his way around the table toward Bethany, not missing the flicker of apprehension in her eyes as he got closer. “Okay, Mom, how good is he, really?”
She couldn’t hide the pride that swelled and her smiled broadened. “I could probably survive off his winnings if he ever wanted to start hustling people.”
“Great.” Grant rolled his eyes. He wasn’t a great player to begin with and now he was about to get schooled by a kid. He bumped her hip playfully with his own, moving her aside. “At least you can say you warned me.” He pointed at the ball nestled in the corner pocket. “I’m solids, right?”
“Yep.” James smiled at him and Grant noticed one of his bottom teeth was missing. Damn kid was adorable. “I only have one left,” he said, pointing at the eight-ball.
Grant shook his head, mentally preparing himself to be spanked by this kid and humiliated in front of at least twenty people from town. Please don’t let any of them be reporters, he prayed.
It took all of five minutes for James to win the game. As soon as he’d sunk the eight-ball, he climbed down from the bench and threw his arms around Grant’s legs, giving him a warm hug. Without even thinking, Grant bent down and picked him up, lifting him so he was at eye level.
“Want to play again?” James asked, a bright gleam in his blue eyes.
“Maybe later. Let’s order our pizza and we can visit for a little bit first.”
James wiggled in his hands and Grant put him back onto the floor, following him to the front counter where Bethany joined them. Reaching his hands to the top of the counter, James hopped up, trying to see over the top even though he was far too short. Grant picked him up again and pointed at the menu.
“What kind do you want?”
“Pepperoni and cheese.” The boy bounced up and down in Grant’s arms excitedly, until his mother cleared her throat beside them. “Please,” he corrected with a sheepish grin.
“You heard the man,” Grant said, laughing at James’ infectious excitement. “A large pepperoni and cheese. Make that light on the sauce and heavy on the cheese with as thick a crust as you can.”
“Will that be all?” Billy gave James a mock glare, sending the boy into peals of laughter again as he shook his finger at James. “You just wait until next time,” he warned.
“I always beat you, Billy.”
“Not next time. You want the usual drinks, Bethany? I can bring them over in a couple minutes.”
Grant looked at her, confused and shrugged. “Sure.”
“You’re awfully daring. How do you know it’s not all the soda flavors mixed into one pitcher?” She turned and headed toward a nearby table and slid into the booth.
“Ah,” Grant said on a long, nostalgic sigh. “Long live the suicide soda.” He slid James into the booth beside his mother and took the seat across from them.
“It’s nothing that bad, just cola and root beer mixed,” she informed him.
James was like a human jumping bean on the seat, unable to still his little body. “Can I go play video games?”
“Puh—” Bethany began.
“Please,” he added quickly.
“Yes, you can.” Bethany reached into her purse and pulled out several dollars. “You remember how to get change?”
Grant had never seen a kid so young give a look of such teenage condescension but James pulled it off without a hitch. “I know, Mom.”
“Okay, James.” She mimicked his tone with a laugh and, shaking her head, turned back to Grant, rolling her eyes.
“He’s got to be the coolest kid I’ve ever met.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” she agreed, her eyes filled with affection for her son as she watched him run to the change machine. “Mr. McQuaid, I just wanted to apologize again for yesterday. James doesn’t usually take off that way but he loves football and when he saw you and your brother playing, coupled with the fact I wouldn’t let him play at recess . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t want to even think about what could have happened.” He could see even the idea left her shaken. “And, while you probably don’t understand what it means to him for you to have played at the park with him today, it means a lot to me.”
Grant opened his mouth to tell her how he’d been happy to do it, how he’d like to do it again, but she didn’t give him the opportunity to speak.
“But I hope you don’t have the wrong idea.”
“Wrong idea,” he repeated. He had a sinking suspicion he knew where this conversation was leading.
“James is a great kid and he’s easy to like. It’s also not hard to see that he’s my life and I’d do anything to make him happy, which you know because you used it to your advantage to get us here. But I’m not sure what you’re hoping to gain from this . . .” She sighed as she searched for whatever word she might be looking for to describe the torture she looked like he was putting her through.
“Don’t say date. It’s not one—you said so yourself.” He couldn’t help himself, any more than he could help the grin that lifted one corner of his mouth. “Relax, okay? This is not a date. I get it. You aren’t looking for a relationship and neither am I. Message received loud and clear. But I do like your kid and there’s nothing wrong with the three of us being friends, is there?”
