Summer on Main Street

by Crista McHugh

  He turned his attention back to Lindsey. She blew a large pink bubblegum bubble, popped it, then lifted her leg in a windup.

  Rather than an underhand softball pitch as he’d expected, she threw it overhand. It landed smack dab in the middle of his mitt with a dull slap. Jack whistled under his breath and pulled his hand out of his glove and swiped it on his jeans. “Holy cow! That pitch had smoke on it. You hurt my hand.”

  Lindsey giggled. “Strike one! Throw it back.”

  “Please,” Beth interjected.

  Jack grinned at her. “There’s no such thing as manners in baseball.”

  “In Mom’s stadium there is.”

  Lindsey scowled. “Please throw it back, Jack-Mack.” He did.

  After Lindsey had thrown a few more pitches, Beth said, “About fifteen minutes ‘til dinner, guys. Don’t forget to wash your hands.” She moved toward the sliding door to the house.

  “No, Mommy, no! You’re on deck. You should be warming up.” Lindsey ran to the porch and grabbed a bat from a large, plastic tub under the eaves. She ran it back to Beth, who hesitated before taking it.

  Jack stood and glanced around the small fenced yard, and the nearby houses, subtly shaking out his knee. In the house next door, he noticed a woman staring out the window at them; at him, specifically. Beth had mentioned living next door to her former mother-in-law. Was that her? If so, she probably wasn’t thrilled to see a man in her daughter-in-law’s backyard. “Uh, I don’t know if we have enough space here to hit balls.” The woman disappeared from the window.

  Lindsey burst into fits of giggles again. “We’re not going to use a real ball, silly goof.” She ran back to the green tub and pulled out a couple of large plastic balls. “We got waffle balls, see? Okay, Mommy. Batter up.”

  Waffle balls. Cute. Jack didn’t bother hiding his grin as he took his position behind home plate. The curvy sway of Beth’s hips in those snug jeans snagged his attention as she walked toward him. As she took a couple of practice swings, he said quietly, “You’re pissed at me.”

  She ignored him. “Okay, pitcher. I’m ready.”

  “You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said.

  A flush spread across her neck and cheeks. “Shut up.”

  Lindsey threw a pitch, and Beth swung and missed.

  “Strike one!” Jack called out in his best umpire voice. Lindsey giggled and set up on the pitcher’s mound.

  Beth’s hips were right in front of his face. All he’d have to do is snake an arm around her waist and tug, and she’d be in his lap. He shifted his position again, this time for reasons having nothing to do with his bad knee.

  “Nice ass,” he muttered, right as Lindsey threw the next pitch. Another swing and a miss.

  “Mommy! You’re not very good today.”

  “That’s because Jack keeps saying things to distract me.”

  “Oh, Mommy. He’s just trying to get on top of your skin.”

  Jack choked on his laugh and Beth covered her mouth with her hand. “Been there, done that,” he muttered. Beth jabbed him in the toes with the bat.

  “Um, sweetie?” Beth said, her voice smiling. “It’s under my skin.”

  “Huh?”

  “The saying is, he’s trying to get under my skin.”

  “That’s what I said,” she replied in a sing-song lilt.

  “I’d rather be on top of it,” Jack murmured for Beth’s ears only, and she swung and missed a third time. She was out.

  ***

  “Time to get ready for bed, sweetie.”

  Lindsey glanced up from where she sat on the floor next to Jack. She and Jack had been playing the Wii for the past hour. “No, Mommy! Can’t I stay up a little longer? Please, pretty please?”

  Beth kissed the top of her head. “Nope. It’s a school night. You know the rules.”

  Lindsey stood up, head hanging, looking like someone had just told her Santa Claus wasn’t real, and dragged herself down the hall. If pouting made a noise, hers would be screaming.

  Jack stared after Lindsey long after she’d disappeared down the hall. “She’s amazing, Beth.”

  Pride and love swelled in her heart. “I’d have to agree.”

  He turned and met her eyes. “Okay. Spill.”

  “About...?”

  “About why you were pissed at me earlier tonight.”

  She pressed her lips together. She didn’t think she’d been so obvious. “I wasn’t pissed. Exactly.”

  “What ‘exactly’ does that mean?”

  She hugged herself and debated whether to tell him or not. “It just dawned on me when you were talking to Lindsey about her letter, that you have it easy. You can show up when you feel like it and leave whenever you feel like it. You’re not committed to being part of Lindsey’s life, but what happens when you decide you’ve had enough?” She glanced down the hall, hearing Lindsey singing in her sweetly off-key voice. Was Jack equally tone deaf? She turned back to him. “What happens when you leave Twin Rivers? Will we, er, she ever hear from you again? Do I need to prepare her for that possibility?”

  “Of course you’ll hear from me.” He lowered his voice. “I told you I want to be part of her life. I’m not just going to disappear someday.”

  “You promise? Because if you hurt her, I’ll take out your other knee.”

  Jack’s startled laugh made her grin, despite her uneasiness. “Don’t mess with Mama Bear, is that it?”

  “Damn straight,” she muttered.

  Lindsey ran back into the room, announcing she was ready to be tucked in.

  Beth rose and Lindsey said, “I want Jack-Mack to come, too.”

  Jack’s expression didn’t give away how he felt about the invitation.

  They followed Lindsey down the hall, and she climbed into bed. Jack stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe while Beth sat down on the mattress and pulled the blankets up for her.

  Lindsey peered up at her with wide eyes. “If Jack-Mack was your boyfriend, it wouldn’t bother me.”

  Beth’s skin flushed from toes to ears in about a millisecond. Oh, God. What was Jack thinking right now? “Ah…”

  “Remember how you asked me if it would bother me if you had a boyfriend? Well, it wouldn’t bother me if Jack-Mack was your boyfriend because I like him a lot.”

  Beth breathed in sharply. She couldn’t look at Jack, who was probably feeling very uncomfortable and awkward. “Well, he likes you a lot, too.”

  “Can Jack-Mack read me a bedtime story?” She blinked up at Beth, then looked over her shoulder toward Jack.

  Beth took a calming breath, then turned, eyebrows lifted in silent question. He straightened from his casual post against the doorframe and scratched the back of his neck.

  “Ah…” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t really, um…” He cleared his throat, and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets then pulled them out again.

  “Pleeeease?” Lindsey whined in her best I really, really, really want it voice.

  Jack met Beth’s gaze. His expression looked mildly horrified, as if Lindsey had just asked him to bet against baseball or something, not simply ask him to read a bedtime story. She didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed at that.

  “Sorry, short stuff, but I need to get going. Early game tomorrow.”

  He nodded to Beth, then turned and disappeared down the hall. Moments later, the front door opened and closed.

  ***

  “You sure your trainer is okay with this?” Kyle Blaylock paused with his hand on the hatch of his rented SUV. He liked to visit his clients periodically and today was Jack’s lucky day. Kyle could be a major-league asshole, but he always had Jack’s best interests in mind.

  “Hitting a bucket of balls isn’t going to hurt my knee, Mom. All the torque is on the front knee, not my injured one.” Jack hoisted his golf bag over his shoulder and headed toward the driving range. “Do you really think I’d be here if it was contraindicative to my rehab?”

>   Kyle jogged into step with him as they walked across the wooden bridge toward the pro shop. “Just making sure my star client, who likes to use big words that his trainer taught him, isn’t being a dumbass.”

  He and Kyle paid for a couple of buckets, then carried the balls down the cart path toward the driving range.

  Kyle glanced around. The green expanse of lawn was framed by towering firs along the perimeter, with a backdrop of the snow-tipped Cascade mountain range. “Hm. For a backwoods little town in the middle of nowhere, this isn’t too bad.”

  Kyle thought anything other than big cities like Los Angeles—where he lived—Chicago, or New York was “backwoods”. He’d told Jack once he’d rather die a fiery death in Hell than live in a small town someday. Jack didn’t think Hell had anything to worry about.

  The driving range was pretty busy, which didn’t surprise him. A somewhat sunny and warm day in early May was practically a holiday around here. A couple of the other golfers grinned and nodded at him, obviously recognizing him, but not coming over. He appreciated that about this town. Twin Rivers citizens loved their team, and might gossip about the players, but were also respectful of their privacy, for the most part.

  Kyle’s first ball made a perfect arc, landing about two hundred twenty feet dead center of the range. Jack’s shanked his first ball past the line of other golfers.

  “Damn,” Kyle said with a chuckle. “Your golf game has turned to shit, too.”

  Jack knew his friend and agent referred to the crappy state of Jack’s play lately on the ball field. He couldn’t argue with him. He’d been playing horribly. Probably what prompted Kyle’s visit. He wanted to see where Jack’s head was at.

  Jack’s only excuse was he’d been distracted. He still was, if that last shot was any indication. If he wasn’t thinking about Lindsey, he was thinking about Beth. One or both of them were always on his mind.

  It had been hard to focus on the game today when the sight of any young girl in the stands made him think about Lindsey, and then he’d remember Lindsey’s disappointed expression last night, when he’d left without reading her a story. Daddies read their little girls bedtime stories. He wasn’t a daddy. He was just a family friend. Who couldn’t afford to get too close.

  Getting too close would fuck everything up. For him and for them.

  He pushed all thoughts of the Darrow females aside, and focused on his swing. Halfway through the bucket, he found his rhythm, and he hit ball after ball exactly where he wanted it to go.

  He’d just hit another monster shot down the center when his phone vibrated in his jeans pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Beth. He didn’t like how his breathing sped up at the sight of her name. Or how his body tightened remembering the flirtations in her backyard last night while playing catch.

  He definitely wanted to get on top of her skin, as Lindsey had said.

  No distractions! His dad’s words screamed in his memory. Right. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, letting the call go to voicemail.

  He shanked the next ball. Dammit. He pulled the phone from his pocket and listened to the message.

  “Hi Jack-Mack. It’s me, Lindsey Faye Darrow.” He couldn’t help grinning at her introduction. How cute was that? “Mommy said I could invite you to my baseball game tomorrow. I am catching, cuz Joey Finnegan was supposed to catch but he’s throwing up and that would be super gross if he threw up all over home plate so he has to stay home so I get to be catcher.”

  He chuckled as he imagined her “super gross” expression. She must have handed the phone to Beth, because her voice came on the line next. “Hey. I know this is short notice. You probably already have plans. But in case you don’t and want to come by, um, well, the game’s at five at the ball fields in the middle of town. You can’t miss them.” She cleared her throat and he thought she might say something else, but she hung up.

  He couldn’t tell by her tone of voice if she was irritated with him after last night or not. But she was giving him an out for tomorrow, as if she expected he wouldn’t want to come.

  It’s not that he didn’t want to. He’d spend every spare minute with them if he could— Shit. Where had that come from? But it was true. He wanted to get to know Lindsey. He really wanted to get to know Beth again. His body tightened at the thought. But the more time he spent with them, the more opportunities he’d have to fuck it up. And he would fuck it up.

  Which was why he’d left last night. It was getting too real.

  He realized Kyle had stopped hitting balls and was staring at him.

  “Was that her?” He didn’t need to clarify who he referred to.

  Jack nodded. “Lindsey wants me to go to her baseball game tomorrow.”

  “Daddies go to their kids’ games. You’re not her daddy.”

  God. Kyle thought so much like he did, it was scary sometimes. “Yeah, but she really wants me to go.”

  “This is a slippery slope, McCauley. First step, baseball game. Next step, you’re making her a sibling with that pretty mom of hers.”

  Kyle’s comment should have made Jack shudder. Instead, it had him thinking of getting Beth naked.

  Like he hadn’t already been thinking about getting her naked. He’d been thinking about that way too much. Pretty much every time he thought about her. Which was a lot.

  Fuck.

  Kyle misread his look of disgust. “You’ve met the kid, spent a little time with her. You’ve done your part. Send her a b-day gift and something nice from Santa every year and you’re golden.”

  Kyle sounded just like his dad. That suggestion described Ed McCauley’s parenting skills in a nutshell.

  Like father, like son, right? Everyone said so.

  Chapter Nine

  The next evening, light rain bounced off the bright orange umbrella Renata held over both of them with a white-knuckled grip. Beth knew the white knuckles weren’t the result of being nervous about the outcome of Lindsey’s baseball game, but from what she’d just told her mother-in-law.

  “Don’t be mad at me, Renata,” Beth said softly, so the other fans in the bleachers wouldn’t overhear.

  “I’m not mad. Of course I’m not mad. I’m just...” She stared, thin-lipped, out over the empty field as both teams huddled in front of their dugouts, listening to the pre-game pep talks from their coaches.

  “He probably won’t even show up.” Beth scanned the area surrounding the ball fields, even though she knew Jack wouldn’t come to the game. The way he’d practically sprinted out of Lindsey’s room the other night told her everything she needed to know.

  She believed he did want to get to know Lindsey better, but there was a line he clearly wasn’t ready to step over. Coming to the game tonight would be dangerously close to walking that line.

  But on the teensy, tiny chance that he did show up, she thought she’d better prepare Renata.

  “I noticed he was at your house the other night.”

  Of course she had. Beth’s skin burned. Renata swore she didn’t spy on them, but Beth knew the older woman couldn’t help herself. Reason number 546 that she couldn’t wait to get her own place someday. “He, ah, promised Lindsey he’d show her a few baseball tricks.”

  “He’s taken quite an interest in her.”

  Crap. Had she finally put two and two together? Beth’s breathing shallowed a bit. She knew she’d have to tell Renata the truth eventually, but not before Jack figured out what he wanted to do. Or at least not until Beth was more used to the idea of him being in her daughter’s—er, their daughter’s—life in whatever capacity that turned out to be.

  “He’s, um, Lindsey’s favorite player,” Beth said. “You know that. Jack just wants to get to know one of his biggest fans.” God. That sounded lame even to her own ears.

  Renata turned to her. “I might be from the old country and from a different generation, but I wasn’t born yesterday,” she said in her strong Czech accent. “I know what’s going on here, even if you don’t.”


  Oh, shit. Here it comes. Wait. What did she mean by that last part, “even if you don’t”?

  Her confusion must have showed, because Renata explained, “He’s only pretending to take an interest in Lindsey because he is interested in you.”

  Beth’s eyes widened and Renata patted her leg. “I know you don’t have much dating experience, dear, so maybe you just don’t see the signs. He’s new in town. You’re a beautiful young woman, vulnerable in your grief. He only wants to take advantage of you.”

  Beth had to bite her lip to refrain from laughing. “Renata.” Her voice trembled with a repressed giggle. “You don’t have to worry about that.” Not that she would mind if Jack took advantage of her. Not that she’d let that happen. Ever. Despite thinking about it night and day. And yes, she might be vulnerable. But it wasn’t because of grief. It was because of her weakness for Jack.

  She turned her attention to the field. Lindsey stood in the huddle of boys, the only girl on the team. She talked with her hands, very animated. Jack talked a lot with his hands, too. Beth sighed. They were so much alike, father and daughter.

  No. Jack wasn’t her father, not really. Only by blood. That seemed to be all he wanted at this point, which was fine by Beth. Since high-tailing it out of her house the other night, she’d been trying to figure out what had scared him off more—the prospect of the bedtime story, or Lindsey’s comment about them being boyfriend and girlfriend.

  She sighed and shifted on the hard metal seat, wishing she’d brought a seat cushion. Jack was such a confusing man. On one hand, he seemed to really enjoy himself playing catch in their backyard with Lindsey and flirting with Beth. On the other hand, he wanted to keep them both at arm’s length. She supposed his actions were no less confusing than her feelings for him. On one hand, she wanted him in Lindsey’s life and was very attracted to him, tempted even to flirt back with him. But on the other hand, she wanted him to go back to his major-league life and leave them alone. It would be so less complicated that way, on many levels.