Mr. Congeniality

by Sherry Lewis

  Coretta was one of those people who liked having a finger in every pie on the stove. No matter what was happening in Whistle River, you’d find her in the middle of the action—and nine times out of ten, in charge of it.

  Dean couldn’t imagine what she wanted with him.

  She shielded her eyes from the sun as she drew closer. “It is you, isn’t it?”

  “It is. How are you, Coretta?”

  “I’m fine, of course. Couldn’t be better.” She dropped her hand from her eyes and touched his arm. “If this isn’t a coincidence, I don’t know what is. You’re exactly the man I was planning to call on this afternoon.”

  Dean lowered the sack of potatoes he was holding to the ground. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I’ll tell you.” She turned a bright smile on Tyler. “Just as soon as you tell me who this young man is.”

  “Tyler Bell,” Dean said, willing the kid to be civil. “My nephew. Tyler, this is Mrs. Bothwell. She’s the mother of our mayor, among other things.”

  Tyler muttered something that sounded like a greeting and sat on the side wall of the truck bed. To Dean’s amazement, Coretta’s smile almost tugged an answering one from the kid’s sullen mouth.

  “It’s always nice to see new faces in town,” she said. “Especially when they’re on people who plan to stay awhile. How long will you be with us? Permanently, I hope.”

  Tyler shook his head and actually managed to appear regretful. “I don’t know yet. I’ll probably just be here for the summer.” Coretta seemed disappointed, but Dean couldn’t have been more thrilled to hear the kid leaving the door open on the future and making that much of a commitment with his own lips.

  “Well, that’s too bad,” Coretta said. “We could find lots of things for a young man your age to do.” She turned away just in time to miss the roll of Tyler’s eyes. “I won’t keep you hanging, Dean. You might have guessed that we need your help.”

  “We?”

  “The city’s summer recreation department.”

  Coretta had probably volunteered to organize the annual Founder’s Day Pancake Breakfast again. Dean had manned a pancake grill at the last sunrise get-together and surprised himself by having a good time. He nodded and bent to pick up the potatoes again. “I’ll be happy to help. What do you need me to do?”

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard that Hank and Leslie Miner are leaving us.”

  Dean shook his head and tried to remember who the Miners were. “I hadn’t.”

  “It’s a sad day for Whistle River High School losing two teachers at once, but Leslie’s expecting a baby and Hank’s accepted a job in Spokane.”

  That was enough to help Dean place the young couple he knew only by sight. “I’ll be sorry to see Whistle River lose another family,” he said, “but what does that have to do with me?”

  “You must know that Hank has been the coach of our Little League baseball team for the past five years.”

  Dean’s smile froze. He had a good idea what was coming next, but Coretta was headed down the wrong road. He’d been thinking about baseball too much already. “Sorry. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  “I know you’re busy at the lodge,” she said, “but the team will only take a few hours of your time every week.”

  “That’s not very much,” Tyler put in.

  Dean sent him a warning glance.

  “I’d ask someone else,” Coretta continued, “but there isn’t a soul in town who doesn’t have far too much to do, and you’re by far the most qualified for the job.”

  Dean managed to get the potatoes past her and into Tyler’s hands. “Sorry, Coretta. Not interested.”

  “But you know we play a game on Founder’s Day every year against the team from Red Lodge. If we don’t have a coach, we’ll have to cancel. That’s a lot of disappointment for nine-and ten-year-olds to handle.”

  “Yes, but Founder’s Day isn’t until August. And I never suggested that the kids should go without a coach.” Dean reached past her for the bag of new linens Irma had been expecting. “Just that the new coach isn’t going to be me. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “No, I won’t excuse you.” Giving him a disapproving look, Coretta snatched the bag from his hands before he could react. “You’re the perfect man for the job, and you know it.”

  “You could find a dozen people in Whistle River who’d do a better job than I would.”

  Tyler took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair to resuscitate a few limp spikes. He worked up an expression of mock concern. “But Uncle Dean, are you really going to let those poor little kids suffer?”

  Dean could have throttled him. “They won’t suffer.”

  “How do you know?” Tyler smirked and turned to Coretta. “He would be a good coach, you know. He’s great with kids. You’re just asking him the wrong way. You gotta tell him what a hero he’ll be if he does the job. He can’t resist that.”

  Dean didn’t know which emotion was stronger—embarrassment or anger. It took all his self-control not to grab Tyler by the shirt and drag him out of the truck. “Whatever I’ve done,” he snapped. “Whatever you imagine I’ve done, it doesn’t warrant this kind of hostility.”

  Coretta glanced from one to the other, and for the first time since Dean had known her she actually seemed at a loss for words. But she recovered quickly and scowled up at Tyler. “There’s no call for rudeness, young man.” She swiveled back to Dean. “The town needs you. The kids need you. If that makes you a hero in some people’s eyes, well, so be it.”

  “My shoulder’s worthless,” Dean reminded her. “I can’t throw a ball anymore. Can’t hit. Can’t pitch. I’d be about the worst coach you could get.”

  “You don’t have to do, just teach.”

  Couldn’t she see that he had his hands full with Tyler? “You can’t teach baseball without doing, Coretta. It doesn’t work that way. And it should be obvious that I’m no good with one kid, much less a whole team full.”

  Coretta waved away his argument. “You’d be great with the kids. I’m sure of it. We’ll just have to figure out how to work around that shoulder of yours.” She tapped her cheek with one finger, still obviously reluctant to abandon her scheme. After a few thoughtful moments, she brightened. “And I have it. The perfect solution. If you’ll agree to coach, we’ll make Tyler your assistant.”

  Tyler shot to his feet. The dismay on his face was almost comical. “No way. No way. I’m not doing it.”

  “Of course you are.” Coretta winked at Dean as if they’d thought of the solution together. “The town needs your uncle, he needs you. This will give you a chance to be a hero.”

  For the first time since Tyler had arrived, Dean felt like laughing. Much as he wanted to avoid baseball, he wanted to reach Tyler even more. He pushed back the brim of his hat and propped one foot on a tire. “You know, Coretta, I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard in days. You’ve got yourself a coach—and an assistant.”

  Coretta’s eyes danced. “Wonderful! You won’t regret it. I’ll call you with details in a few days.” She patted his arm, waved to Tyler and hurried away.

  “I’m not doing it,” Tyler called after her, but if she heard him she didn’t give any sign. Tyler sighed heavily and glowered at Dean. “I’m not doing it,” he said again. “There’s no way. You’re the big baseball hero.”

  “And you’re the big baseball hero’s nephew.” Dean hoisted a bag of flour and tossed Tyler’s own words back at him. “Are you really going to make those poor little kids suffer?”

  Tyler’s eyes narrowed into slits as he grabbed the bag of flour out of Dean’s hands. He swore under his breath and turned away. “I thought you said I wasn’t in prison here,” he muttered as he tossed the bag onto the stack of supplies. But there wasn’t much heat in his argument.

  Dean leaned against the tailgate and grinned up at him. “You aren’t in prison. But you helped get me into this coaching job, so I think it’s only
fair that you help me fulfill my obligation. And who knows, it might even be fun.”

  He reached for a bag at his feet, but maybe he’d relaxed too much. He stretched the wrong way, and felt the familiar flash of fire through half his body that meant he’d just made a big mistake. Before he could stop himself, an involuntary groan escaped his lips, his legs buckled, and he felt himself dropping to his knees on the sidewalk.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FURIOUS WITH HIS WEAKNESS, Dean clenched his teeth and tried to pull himself together. Through the haze of pain, he saw Tyler jump from the truck bed and come to stand beside him.

  “Are you okay?”

  Dean didn’t trust himself to open his mouth. He shook his head and touched his other hand to his shoulder, but even the slightest movement made the pain worse. He closed his eyes briefly and bit back a moan.

  “Dude, where are your pain pills?”

  Tyler sounded worried. Dean must have been hallucinating. He tried to pull the bottle from his pocket, but the pain was too severe. His hand fell uselessly to his side and he fought to control the sudden stinging of tears in his eyes.

  “Don’t move.” Tyler slipped his fingers into Dean’s pocket to bring out the bottle himself. “How many? One? Two?”

  Dean managed to lift one finger.

  “You got something to take this with?” Tyler shook a pill from the bottle and pressed it between Dean’s tight lips. He disappeared for a split second, then came back and held something cool against Dean’s mouth. “Swallow, dude. You got it down? You okay?”

  Dean nodded, and Tyler stuffed the prescription bottle into his own pocket. He sat back on his heels, glowering as if he really cared. “Dude, what did you do that for? I could’ve loaded this stuff myself.”

  The genuine concern on Tyler’s face stunned Dean almost as much as the pain had. He tried to answer, but he still couldn’t concentrate enough to make his voice work.

  Tyler scrambled to his feet and came around behind him. “I’m going to get you into the truck, and you’re going to sit there while I finish loading up. And then I’m driving us back to the ranch. Where are your keys? In the ignition?”

  Dean nodded.

  “Okay, then.” Tyler slipped his hands beneath Dean’s arms and lifted him to his feet. The kid’s strength amazed Dean, but not half as much as his gentleness. If Tyler had hated him, this would have been a golden opportunity to make sure Dean knew it. Instead, he was handling Dean with kid gloves. It almost convinced Dean that Nessa and Gary were right.

  Maybe Tyler did like him a little.

  BY THE TIME THEY GOT BACK to the Eagle’s Nest, the raw edge of pain had diminished, but it still felt as if someone had thrust a burning log into Dean’s shoulder. Tyler didn’t even give him the option of helping to unload the truck, and Dean was grateful. Shouting for Gary to take his place, Dean ignored Annie’s summons to lunch and headed straight to his room.

  When he awoke several hours later, the pain had let up a little. It wasn’t gone by any means, and he’d have to be careful for a few days. But at least he was somewhat functional again.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face gingerly, slowly becoming aware that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Making himself weak with hunger wouldn’t help his recovery, so he padded downstairs in his socks and went to the kitchen. He rummaged inside the fridge for something that wouldn’t even require the effort of heating it in the microwave.

  Luck was with him. He found some leftover orange-glazed chicken, a block of cheese and some melt-in-your-mouth rolls from dinner the night before. When he saw one lone piece of cherry cheesecake on the top shelf, he claimed it and realized that besides needing to apologize to Annie, he also should thank her for not sticking strictly to the menus he’d planned.

  He stuck one chicken leg in his mouth and pulled a plate from a cupboard. Turning back to the fridge, he heaped two breasts and another leg onto the plate, wedged the cheese against his side and took a good, long look at the covered containers lined up against one side of the refrigerator. They were all full to the brim, which meant Annie probably intended them for their weekly campfire dinner the next night.

  He was just about to open one, anyway, when the kitchen door swished open behind him. He turned to find Annie watching him, arms folded across her breasts. It was the first time he’d been alone with her since their conversation on the porch, and facing her like this made Dean nervous.

  She slid her gaze from his face to his plate and back again. “If you’d asked, I would have fixed you something to eat.”

  Dean pulled the chicken leg from his mouth and grinned sheepishly. “It’s no problem. I can do it.”

  She crossed the room and faced him across the chopping block. “Tyler told us what happened in town. How’s your shoulder?”

  Embarrassed at having his weaknesses discussed behind his back, Dean shrugged. “Better.”

  “Is that true, or are you just saying that so I’ll drop the subject?”

  He laughed a little and felt some of his nervousness abate. “It’s true,” he said, and moved his shoulder gingerly as proof.

  Annie didn’t seem impressed by his demonstration. “I hope you plan to take it easy for a few days after this. You could do some permanent damage if you push too hard.”

  Yesterday, Dean might have been offended by her comment. Today, it made him grin and wiped away the rest of his jumpiness. “Heaven forbid something permanent should happen to my shoulder.”

  Annie’s frown deepened, but a smile lit her eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m sure you don’t want to make it worse.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. But I won’t lie around playing invalid, either.” He leaned on the chopping block and put himself at eye level with her. “I won’t overdo it. That’s a promise.”

  Her concern was hard to resist. It had been a long time since any woman had cared how he felt. He ran his fingers through his hair and tackled a subject he’d been putting off too long already. “I’ve been meaning to apologize for being so harsh last time we talked. I guess now is as good a time as any.”

  Annie pulled back in surprise, but her lips curved into a pleased smile. “Okay, go ahead. Apologize.”

  Dean stared at her in surprise. “I thought I just did.”

  “No. You said you wanted to.” She grinned wickedly. “That’s not an actual apology.”

  Dean chuckled and made himself more comfortable. “Okay. I apologize. I was pretty harsh the other night.”

  “Yes, you were. But I think we should share the blame equally. I wasn’t at my best, either.”

  Dean laughed aloud. “I’m glad to know you haven’t suffered irreparable emotional damage.” The realization that she was as different from Hayley as a woman could get hit him like a bat upside the head. “But I have a feeling it would take more than me being in a bad mood one day to damage you—especially after what you’ve been through.”

  Annie sat on a stool and linked her hands together on the counter. Dean couldn’t resist coming around the room to stand in front of her. The sparkle in her eyes turned them the color of the sky. If she wore any makeup, it was invisible. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail that skimmed her shoulders when she moved. She was far more beautiful in a white T-shirt and cutoff jeans than in silks and linens.

  But it was her direct approach, her complete lack of guile, that really got him. He couldn’t remember Hayley ever being this direct with him. He couldn’t remember her ever taking even part of the blame for one of their arguments. When she’d wanted an apology, she’d manipulated one from him and she’d been slow to forgive. The slightest transgression had required flowers and dinner reservations before she’d even consider granting a pardon. Even then, she’d held his failures over his head until he’d finally grown tired of the games and stopped spending money—at which point the cycle would begin again.

  Maybe he’d played the game with her because he’d grown up feeling responsible for his mother
and Carol, so it had been an easy step to transfer that accountability for everything to his other relationships.

  Could it possibly be as simple as an apology?

  His smile froze, his throat dried, and his heart began to hammer. Suddenly, there was nothing in the world more important than making sure this woman knew how sorry he was. He took her hands in his and stared into her eyes. “I do apologize, Annie. For everything—including doubting that you could fit in here and trying to direct you in your job when you were more than capable of handling it.”

  She blinked in surprise and the mischievous sparkle faded to the bottom of the sapphire pool. “Thank you.” She touched his chest with the tips of her fingers. “I know how hard it is for you to tell me what’s in here.”

  Dean caught her hand again and held it in place. “There’s more if you want to hear it.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm gently, surprising himself almost as much as he did her. “You scare the hell out of me, Annie Holladay, and that’s the absolute truth. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it.”

  Annie turned her hand and cupped his cheek gently. “If it helps, you frighten me, too. I’m still in the middle of an ugly divorce. I’m not ready to have feelings for someone else.”

  “So, what do we do about this?”

  Annie shook her head and dropped her hand from his cheek. “I don’t know. If we were smart, we’d agree to be friends and leave it at that.”

  Her answer disappointed him, but he knew she was right. “I agree, that would be the smart thing.”

  “Neither of us can afford to get involved,” Annie continued quickly. “You have the Eagle’s Nest and Tyler to worry about. I have to focus on Nessa while I still have her. And I’m leaving for Seattle in a couple of months. We can’t forget that.”

  Dean brushed a stray wisp of hair away from her mouth and cupped her chin with his fingers. Swallowing thickly, he traced the outline of her lips with the pad of his thumb.

  Annie’s breath caught and her lips parted slightly. Her eyes darkened with longing, but that only made it harder for Dean to listen to the logical arguments echoing through his mind.