Heidi sits back, annoyed. "Yeah, but Russo's? I've been coming here since I was two." She slides the basket of breadsticks away from her across the red and white checked tablecloth.
The waitress returns, setting a cannoli before Chrissy, who smiles up at her. "Thank you," she says before eagerly passing the breadbasket to her. "Do you think I could take these home, too? My kids absolutely love 'em."
"Oh, they're the best," Danny readily agrees. "I'm surprised there are any left. I thought I ate them all."
We all start laughing, while Heidi just sits there, twirling the straw in her glass. She starts mumbling under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear her, "At least, that's one food item that didn't end up in his beard."
I nudge her, making one last valiant attempt to get her to lighten up. "Are you sure you don't want anything for dessert? I can tell the waitress while she's here."
"I already told you—no," she snaps at me. "I can't eat that stuff. I'll get fat."
Chrissy pauses with the cannoli halfway to her mouth.
And even though it's only one of many snide comments Heidi's made throughout the evening, this is one I can't ignore—because it has nothing to do with me or Stockton or baseball, and everything to do with a nice, sweet lady who doesn't deserve to be treated like that.
I remove my napkin from my lap and turn to face her. "Take it back."
Bored, she plays with her phone like she can't be bothered with me.
Sensing the tension brewing between us, Chrissy puts her cannoli down and hurriedly licks the filling from her fingers. "It's okay. She's right. These babies go straight to the hips. I guess you can tell I eat way too many sweets."
She lets out a nervous giggle, and Danny shoots me a look that speaks volumes.
"Well, if your daughters are anywhere near as beautiful as you are, then you must have the best-looking family in all of Stockton." Danny lays on the charm, causing Heidi to exhale loudly beside me.
Danny frowns at her, ready to say something when Chrissy intervenes. "Ah, thanks, Danny. Our girls are beautiful, but I had nothing to do with it," she chuckles. "You see, they're all adopted."
"Really?" Danny responds.
She smiles at him. "Yeah, I guess I tend to bring my work home with me. I'm a social worker at the foster care agency downtown."
The waitress returns with Danny's credit card along with Chrissy's wrapped-up breadsticks and several more takeout containers for the rest of the table.
"The food was great. The service was great." Danny signs his name across the receipt and smiles at the waitress before smiling at Chrissy. "But my date was phenomenal." He brags, getting Chrissy to laugh. "I really hate to call it a night, but…"
"Oh, I know it's getting late. Time to vamoose." Chrissy nods, quickly placing her uneaten cannoli into one of the extra containers. "It's a school night, and I still have to get the kids to bed." She raises a hand to Danny's ear, chuckling, "Just between you and me, they never listen to my husband."
Heidi snickers but doesn't say anything.
Chrissy stands up and Danny, gentleman that he is, helps her on with her jacket. "You hold on to that signature of his, miss. It's gonna be worth something someday." Chrissy winks at the waitress as she looks up from clearing the table. "I have a feeling this boy's gonna be a star." She fluffs out her collar and grins at me when she catches my eye. "The two of them are. You mark my words. I know talent when I see it. Remember their names—Dan O'Malley and Luke Singleton."
The waitress glances over at me, propping her tray against her hip. "Not the Luke Singleton? The guy I talk to practically every night on the phone?"
Heidi sits up, leaning her elbows on the table. "You two know each other?"
"Yeah, well…sorta," she says, getting flustered. "I think I know the delivery order for 44 Cedar Crest Lane by heart. How's your mom doing, by the way? I always make sure to remind Billy not to ring the doorbell."
Heidi shifts next to me. "Your mom…? You still live with your mom?"
I give the waitress a stiff nod. "She's good. Thanks."
Danny comes to the rescue, more than willing to snag the waitress's undivided attention. "Do you think you could give me a stack of your takeout menus? I'd love to leave them in the clubhouse for the rest of the guys. A lot of them are new to the area, and they have no idea where to go to get a good meal around here."
"My pleasure." She gestures toward the counter. "Right this way."
Danny offers Chrissy his arm then throws a worried backward glance in my direction. I shrug, not knowing what else to do as he leaves me alone with Heidi.
"What, do you keep your mom locked in the basement or something?" Heidi clicks her nails impatiently on the table. "I haven't seen her in ages. I thought after your dad died, she moved to Florida or something. Isn't that where all the old people go?"
I drain the water that's left in my glass all the way down to the ice. "Nah, she still lives at home."
"Well, why the paranoia about the doorbell, then? What is she, part attack dog?" Heidi laughs.
"So you did see the sign…" I grumble.
"Yeeeah," she whines, like she's fourteen. "But I didn't think it applied to me."
I grimace and push what remains of my brownie aside.
"There was like this squealing noise coming from inside your house, and I got scared. But then there were voices…female voices…more than one, actually."
Great. She heard more than I thought she did. The alarm didn't drown everything out.
Angling her body closer to mine, she rests her chin in her hand and stares at me intently. "It seems like you're trying to hide something, Luke. But what?"
"I'm not trying to hide anything."
She studies me with a coy gleam in her eye. "Just like you didn't want the Beavers to know you were seeing a speech therapist, right?"
"That was different. That was—"
"Luke, you paid for my services out of your own pocket. You didn't charge them to your health insurance or to the Beavers or to anyone else, for that matter. I checked."
"That information's supposed to be confidential, Heidi."
And that's when Russo's piped-in music switches abruptly from Dean Martin's jubilant "That's Amore" to the soft opening of The Godfather theme, and my voice rings out through the whole restaurant as everyone turns to stare at me.
Heidi waits until we're not the center of attention anymore before whispering, "That's why they weren't going to take you back, wasn't it? They didn't think you'd make a full recovery."
I pull back to look at her. "Well, I did. Thanks to you."
She slides her hand onto my knee. "Oh, you're gonna thank me all right. Or else those nice folks I've been chatting with over at Beaver Field are gonna find out that something fishy's going on at your house. Maybe they'll even put me through to Mike Landry this time."
"You wouldn't—"
"Try me." She looks at me through narrowed eyes, her curtain of blond hair spilling over her shoulder. "If you make it to the majors, I think it'd be a pretty nice gig to be your girlfriend. The best and brightest always leave Stockton, and I'm not about to be left behind."
She picks up my fork and breaks off a bite-sized piece of brownie before dipping it in the whipped cream.
"Open up, Luke," she entreats, holding it in front of my mouth.
The people at the other tables continue to throw us curious glances, and I have no choice but to let her feed me as she slides the fork between my lips and smiles once I begin to chew.
"Hmmm, now doesn't that sound good?" She pats the corners of my mouth with her napkin, fussing all over me. "Now I can't wait to discover all the things you're going to do for me. Count this as the first of many, many dates to come."
Chapter Nineteen
Roberta
When you first meet him, a selfish man will sweet-talk you into believing that the world revolves around him. Don't fall for it. A man who takes without giving will never put you first. His one an
d only priority will always be himself.
Under the glow of the upstairs night-light, I nibble on the tip of my pen. Is that advice too harsh? I lift my teacup off the tray and sip at it as I ponder my words. It's not like I've given up entirely on the idea of love, but I expect any young girl to date with her eyes wide open. Some men are devious and hurtful and cruel, and I'd be doing a grave disservice if I didn't include any warning about them. Guys like that are full of tricks, and no girl deserves to be unhappy just so she can have someone in her life.
A key jiggles in the lock down below, and I hastily put my cup down before slipping my journal under the folded-up blanket I'm sitting on. Fresh off another road trip, Luke spent the entire day running errands, fixing the leaky rain gutter on the side of the house, and going on his date—so we haven't had time to catch up. That's why I waited up for him, but he's most likely exhausted and craving his own bed. It's just that I missed him, more than I thought I would.
His soft footfall hits the stairs as he tries to make as little noise as possible. My heart turns over. Uh-oh, he thinks everyone's asleep. What in the world is he going to think when he finds me out here in the hall? Probably that I'm snooping for information on his date, which I totally am…
But when he reaches the top, it's apparent that something's not right. His hair's no longer pulled back. His face is red, and his shirt's untucked. Yet his eyes light up the second he sees me.
"If I had known I'd have a tea party for two waiting for me back at home, I definitely would've skipped dessert." He groans, kneeling down beside me. "Man, I could really use some kinda pick-me-up right about now."
"How'd it go?" I ask, filling his cup before adding a splash of cream and four lumps of sugar to it.
He shakes his head in amusement as I hand it to him. "You remembered how I take it."
"Well, not many guys drink tea. You stand out," I tease him.
He presses his stocky shoulders up against the wall as he sits down next to me. "I'm really liking this tradition we started."
He takes a mighty gulp before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and I can't seem to draw my gaze away from his lips, utterly enthralled by the way the facial hair around his mouth is now slightly darker than the rest of his goatee. I have the unbelievable urge to kiss him just to see what it'd feel like, how sweet his lips would taste.
Instead, I move the tray in between us and cast a quick glance at his unsuspecting profile. "So tell me about the date. Was it that bad?"
He sighs, stretching out his legs. "Do you know I jogged around the square ten times just now? After I brought Heidi back to her car, I just couldn't come in yet. She had me so worked up, I had to go blow off some steam first. Figure things out."
"And did you?"
"Yeah, I think I did," he whispers, turning his head and resting it on his shoulder to look at me. "Roberta, there's something we gotta do together. I'm afraid we can't put it off anymore."
I inhale sharply. Is he saying what I think he's saying? Is he finally going to kiss me?
"By any chance, do you have your phone on you?"
I try my best to hide my disappointment. "Yeah…Why?"
I turn my head, and we're so close our foreheads are practically touching. Immediately, I find myself drowning in those gorgeous eyes of his, losing whatever grip I have left on my self-control. Those eyes… Damn it, girl. Get it together. Luke's really cute—so what? It's just that every time I realize it, it seems like a brand new discovery. Before that day at Beaver Field, I never really thought about him like that. In all the online video clips I ever saw of him, he always had his batting helmet on. And he didn't exactly blow me away in the DMV-style mug shot on the Beavers' website.
But in person, he exudes this…I don't know what… A quality none of the "studs" I've dated in the past ever came close to possessing. It's like he's grateful for every breath, every moment, and through that gratitude shines a spirit that takes in everything around him. He's not caught up in how he's coming across. He's more interested in acknowledging the person in front of him. And somewhere deep inside my heart, I recognize that for what it really is—complete and utter selflessness. Without another word, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, willing to give him anything he asks for.
He sits up, looking me square in the eye. "We need to tell Landry that I hired you."
Anything but that, I think, as panic floods through me all at once. "Are you crazy? You said—"
"Forget what I said." He gently puts his hand over mine. "It doesn't matter now…Heidi knows."
I yank my hand out from under his. "You told her?"
"No, of course not," he insists. "She heard you and Mom when she was standing on the porch. She knows something's up, and she's threatening to tell the Beavers if I don't cooperate." He meets my gaze, and I can't look away as his eyes peer into mine. "Please, Roberta. We have to tell him. It's the only way I won't have to go on any more dates with her. Because as far as I'm concerned, what little downtime I have belongs to you and Mom and no one else."
There's no mistaking that he means every word of what he just said. He basically admitted that he has zero interest in getting involved with another woman, and it makes me tingle all the way down to my toes. He wants to be at home with me and not go out with anyone else. Trying to hide the warmth that's creeping into my cheeks, I bend my knees and bring them up to my chin. "Okay, so what exactly are we going to tell Landry?"
"Just that Mom got sick, and you'll be taking care of her for a little while."
"But Luke, you don't know Landry like I do," I protest. "He's going to want details."
"Roberta," Luke pleads, reaching for my hand again. "He can't find out she has Alzheimer's. He'll want to get involved, and I—"
"You can't risk it." I nod, placing my hand on top of his. "I understand. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
Lowering his head, he nods, whispering, "I know."
Having my hand on his is a heady feeling. It's bigger than mine, stronger than mine. And by him reaching out to me, it's evident that in the span of a few short weeks how much he's come to trust me. And the sad thing is he's been nothing but open and honest with me, when I've been keeping so much from him.
Reluctantly, I release his hand and set my phone on top of the tray. "Just follow my lead, okay?"
He stares down as I hit the speaker button before he quickly glances up at me again. "Thank you for doing this."
I give him a wry grin. "Don't thank me yet."
It starts to ring, and for a moment, I close my eyes, not wanting to have to lie to my good friend, but knowing how much Luke may need me to. And it's not like Luke's completely wrong in his assessment. Landry lives to fix people. He did it with me. He did it with Luke. And I'm sure he'd like nothing more than to barge in and save the day by "helping" Luke's mom. It's just the kind of guy he is. He means well, but at the same time, he can be extremely domineering. I think, ever since his wife died, it's the only way he can demonstrate some control over this crazy thing called life.
"Bobbie Jo?" Landry greets me with his familiar twang.
And for a moment, I feel a sharp pang in my heart. It's been a while since anyone's called me Bobbie Jo, and I didn't realize how much I'd missed it until hearing his voice. I shut my eyes and breathe. Right now is not the time to dwell on the fact Landry's the only person in my life who knows my real name.
It came about the morning he drove me home from the hospital. Any other person would've wanted to know what I had done and why, but he came to trust me after watching how I eased his wife through her final moments. He didn't ask questions when he picked me up after my surgery, and he never pressed me for answers later. He was simply there for me at a time when I needed a friend, and he's been in my corner ever since, respecting my privacy enough to support me, while at the same time, knowing well enough to let me be. In return, although I never confided in him about David, I asked him if, from that point on, he'd call me by my real name, Bobb
ie Jo. A part of me I wish I could share with Luke.
"Is it really you, darlin'? Where in tarnation have you been hidin'?"
I roll my eyes for Luke's benefit and receive a jittery smile from him in return. "Now, Landry. What a thing to say. It's not like we haven't texted each other since you've been back at the ranch."
"But it'd still be good to hear your voice once in a while," he scolds me. "I miss you. The kids miss you. It's not the same around here without you."
And my heart lurches again because I hated having to walk away from those kids, my maternal instincts crying out, especially for his daughter, Taylor. Truth be told, whenever I write in my journal, she's how I envision my daughter to be—smart, blond, full of life.
Luke's smile falters somewhat when he sees how much Landry's words are affecting me. Panicking, I rush on, needing to get a grip on my emotions. "Now don't go telling me any tall tales, cowboy. It seems there's still plenty of hubbub going on around you. Was that a splash I just heard in the background?"
He chuckles. "Yeah, I'm grillin' up some steaks by the pool for a late dinner. Ruby's comin' over and—"
"Hold on a minute… Ruby Brier?"
A sly grin crosses my lips as Luke's eyes meet mine.
"Now, Bobbie Jo, don't you start," Landry drawls. "We were over at the cancer center, droppin' off the check from the auction, and the kids invited her over. Since she's been helpin' me set up the patient advocacy side of the organization and all, I thought, why not? Now's as good a time as any to thank her for all she's been doin' for me."
"Well, as it turns out, I'm not alone here either." I wink at Luke. "I'm sitting next to your big auction draw, himself."
Landry spits out whatever it was he was drinking. "Single?" he chokes. "You're there with Single?"
It's hard to decipher what's going through Landry's head right now, even for me, but Luke leans forward and gamely jumps right in. "Hey, man. What's up?"
Single (Stockton Beavers #1) Page 11
