Swing
Page 12
“I’m going to need your help tonight,” I say, sticking a container of coffee next to my brand new coffee pot.
“How?”
“I need you to help this girl think I’m awesome.”
He peers at me over his shoulder.
“You’re my wingman.”
“Wingman?”
“Yeah. Wingman,” I say, putting three different flavors of coffee creamer on the door of the refrigerator. “That means it’s your job to be adorable and to say nice things about me when you can. But, you know, don’t force it. Just when the time is right. And don’t say anything about the texts on my—”
“I get it. You need me to make her fall in love with you.”
“In love with me?” I balk. “No, no, no. You don’t get it at all.”
The little shit smirks at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was Barrett’s kid with that look. “I think I get it better than you do.”
“Fuck,” I sigh, opening a box of plates. They’re navy blue and heavy.
“We should wash those first.”
“What?” I ask, looking at him. “Where do you get this stuff?”
“Life. Haven’t you ever moved? You always wash things before you use them if you haven’t used them in a while.” He watches me before laughing. “Did you buy glasses too?”
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t you have glasses?”
“I’m not sure how many.”
He glances at the clock. “What time is she coming?”
“In about an hour.”
“Do you have any idea how to cook? Have you ever cooked at all?”
“Some,” I say defensively. “Look, I’m the adult here. You’re the kid. You put this shit away and I’m going to . . .” I pull up the recipe on my phone. “I’m going to bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook for eight to ten minutes or until al dente, whatever that means, and then drain and reserve.”
Hux sighs. I do too.
Lincoln
The cake looks pretty good on the plate. Some of the icing got knocked off as I tried to slip it out of the box, but I fixed it with my finger. Then licked it off. That got me a look of disapproval from Hux.
“So you know what to do, right?” I ask, drying the glasses and setting them on the table beneath the lit candles.
“Yes. Be cute. Say nice things about you. And don’t talk about what’s on your phone or what I heard you say to the girl on the phone after Barrett’s election at the Farm.”
My brain races to remember what I would’ve been saying. “Did you mention any of that conversation to your mom?”
“No,” he grins. “But I Googled it.”
Putting him in a headlock, I rub my knuckles over his head. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”
“Hey, Linc? I think the sausage is burning.”
As soon as he says it, I smell it. “Fuck!” I hustle across the room and start fumbling with the knobs on the stove. “That oil got hot fast.”
“Take it off the burner for a minute,” Hux suggests. “It’s what my mom does when the eggs start burning in the morning.”
I try it. It works. The sizzle quiets down a little and by the time it’s cool enough and I can put it back down and break it up with a big plastic spoon, it doesn’t look too bad.
Huxley starts to say something when the doorbell rings. Instead, he raises a brow. “You want me to get it?”
I’m flustered, my hands reaching for the onions and garlic and then looking at the door again. How can I crack a homerun with full count and not break a sweat, yet I don’t know which way to go right now?
“Um,” I stutter, unsure as to what to do.
Huxley’s hand lands on my bicep. “I’ll get the door. You need to get yourself together.”
Before I can respond, he’s skipping out of the kitchen. I busy myself trying to take the skin off the onion and eavesdropping on Huxley and Dani as much as I can. I don’t hear much. Finally, I glance up and they’re standing in the doorway.
Huxley’s wearing a huge grin, his eyebrows lifting up and down. I chuckle and then stop when my gaze lands on Danielle.
She’s wearing a pair of jeans that are tucked into a pair of boots. A mustard-colored sweater sits snugly around her curves, which are showcased even more with her hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head.
My mouth goes dry. I can’t take my eyes off of her. Something about the way she looks in my house, so casual and easy, has my brain fogged.
“Hey,” she says finally. “I think you’re burning that.”
“Shit!” I exclaim, turning around to see the sausage meat frying again. Pulling it off the burner, my jaw locked, I remind myself I can’t mess this up. This is my chance to prove I’m more than a bachelor, more than a baseball player, more than the athlete types she knows. And I’m burning fucking dinner.
Her hand lands on my back and I relax on contact. Her vanilla perfume wraps around me as she peers into the skillet. She must sense my anxiety because she lifts on her toe and kisses my cheek. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and I’ll finish.”
“Get cleaned up?” I say, standing there holding a pan in the air. “Do I not look good?”
I’m slightly offended. I’ve busted my ass to make this night as perfect as possible and everything is going wrong.
“You have grease and chocolate icing all over your shirt,” she whispers. I look down and see that she’s right. “Let me help.”
“You don’t even know what I’m making.”
“Huxley will help me.” She looks over her shoulder. “Right, Hux?”
“Sure.”
She pats my ass. “Go on. Get a new shirt on and breathe a little, Landry. He’s just a kid.”
I hide my smile. “Yeah, why I’m so nervous about a kid is beyond me.”
Turning on my heel, I pass Hux and give him a wink. He responds by sticking a hand out that I high-five on my way out.
Danielle
LINCOLN’S LAUGH FILLS THE AIR. It’s a different laugh than I’ve heard from him. It’s completely relaxed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I watch him reach over and bump Huxley’s shoulder. The boy looks up at him like he hung the moon.
He was so great with Rocky, but seeing him with Huxley is a new level of amazing. They’re natural together, like brothers or a father and son. For a split second, I imagine Lincoln as a father. It wouldn’t take much work to imagine us having dinner as a family.
A warmth like I’ve never felt before stretches through my chest, burrowing into little cavities that have been empty my entire life. Places I didn’t know were there. I don’t want this feeling to end.
“This was really good,” Huxley says, setting down his fork. “Thank you for making it, Linc. And thank you for coming to dinner with us, Danielle.”
“You are so welcome. Thank you for inviting me.”
“My mom would really like you.”
“You think?” I ask.
“Yeah. You’re smart and nice and you make Lincoln laugh a lot.”
“Well, Lincoln makes me laugh a lot too.”
Lincoln watches us banter, a huge smile on his face. He’s leaned back at the head of the table, his blue workout shirt nearly painted on his body. I can see every line of his muscles, every ridge of his frame.
Huxley tries to hide a grin. “I think Lincoln likes you.”
I burst out laughing. “You think?” I ask coyly. “What makes you say that, Hux?” I hold my finger in the air as a warning for Lincoln to stay out of it when he starts to interrupt.
“Because you’re really pretty,” he says, his cheeks pinking a little. “And Linc usually just laughs at girls.”
“Does he now?”
“Huxley . . .” Lincoln warns, making Hux burst into a fit of giggles.
“He does. He doesn’t take them seriously. But,” he says, cupping his hands around his mouth to direct his voice to me as he whispers, “the
y are pretty dumb.”
“Good to know.” I pick up my glass of water and take a sip so I don’t laugh.
“Also, he went to all this trouble for you,” Hux continues. “We bought all this food and he got coffee because he said you like it.”
My eyes flip to Landry.
“And he bought plates and cups because he wanted you to like it here.”
My heart mushes. I have to force myself to take my gaze away from the handsome man at my left and look across the table at Huxley. “That was awfully nice of him.”
“Yes, it was. So you should be super nice to him, okay? He’s a nice guy. He—”
“Laying it on a little thick now, Hux,” Lincoln chuckles. He clears his throat as he dabs his mouth with a napkin.
“Okay, okay.” Huxley looks at me. “Can I go get a shower and maybe lie down? We traveled all day and Barrett bought me a book in the airport and I really want to read.”
“Sure,” I say. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.” He stands and heads to the doorway. I’m not sure what he does as he stands there, but it makes Lincoln nod and laugh.
Once he’s sure Hux is out of earshot, Lincoln reaches under the table and takes my hand. He laces our fingers together, his nearly swamping mine. His thumb caresses my palm.
“So, you going to be super nice to me tonight?” he teases. “I can think of super nice ways for you to show me you like me.”
“Can you?”
“Since I know your favorite ways to come, thanks to your little declaration on the phone today, I thought we could start there.”
“Don’t embarrass me,” I say, tucking my chin.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby.” He squeezes my hand until I look at him. “Want some wine?”
“Sure,” I nearly whisper.
“Red or white?”
“White.”
He brings our interlocked hands to his lips and presses a kiss against them before letting mine go. My normal wit is long gone, sitting in a puddle along with the rest of me on the floor. I watch him uncork the wine and pour us both a glass. “Come on,” he says, exiting the kitchen.
I follow him into the living room where he gets comfortable on the sofa. A fire is burning in the fireplace, the crackling of fake logs making the room feel intimate.
“Sit,” he instructs, motioning with his chin for me to land beside him. He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I curl up next to him, his arm stretched along the back of the brown leather couch as I tuck my head into the crook of his shoulder. He hands me a glass of wine. “This is nice.”
“It is.” I take a sip of the full-bodied liquid and feel every stress in my life float away. A niggle in my subconscious tries to remind me not to get too close to him, but it ends up on the stress-exodus and vanishes.
It’s too easy with him. It’s too much like what I’ve always wanted. Sitting with him and Huxley tonight had such a feeling of family, something I’ve never experienced.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“What a nice time we had tonight.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’m glad you liked it. I almost had a fucking nervous breakdown.”
“You could’ve ordered takeout,” I giggle. “Or I could’ve brought something.”
He stills, his heartbeat loud against my ear. “I wanted to do something for you. I wanted you to feel special, to know I wanted to make you feel happy.”
“Damn it, Landry. Don’t go getting all swoony.”
“Why?” he laughs. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Not when you look like you,” I giggle. “That makes you impossible to forget.”
“Good. Unforgettable is what I was going for.”
“You gave me a taste of something tonight,” I whisper. “I’ll never forget how it felt to sit at the table with you and Huxley. It was so welcoming, like I belonged in this greater plan.”
“You do. You belong here.”
I look away. I don’t want him to see the emotion in my eyes because he’s too good. He’ll capitalize. He doesn’t miss a thing.
Is he right? Do I belong with him? Or is this just a really good time in between seasons?
“Hey,” he says, reaching forward and sitting his wine glass on the coffee table. He takes mine from my hand and places it next to his. In one swift motion, he lifts me onto his lap sideways. “Your shoulders just got all tense.”
“That happens,” I say.
“Not with me. I don’t want you stressed with me. I thought you were enjoying yourself.”
“I was. I am,” I correct myself. “I just can’t shut my brain off.”
“You overthink everything. I think your brain is the only part of you I have a love-hate relationship with.”
I press my lips together. “So you think you have a solid love relationship with the rest of my body?”
“Uh-huh. I love every,” he says, his fingertip touching the center of my lips, “fucking,” the pad of his finger trails down my chin, in between my breasts, “thing,” it descends across my stomach and landing between my thighs, “about you. And I’m certain your body loves me just as much.”
His palm sits on my pubic bone, his hand cupping my vagina. I shiver, flexing my hips for more contact. He laughs. “See? I’m right.”
“Maybe.”
“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I just have to win over your brain now. I tried tonight to convince it I was more than an athlete. I even borrowed my broth—” He cringes.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“You borrowed your what?”
He looks at the ceiling.
“Talk, Landry.”
“I borrowed my brother’s kid. Or stepkid. Or whatever. I borrowed Hux,” he gulps.
“You did what?”
“I just wanted to show you, not tell you, that I’m not just a baseball player. That I’m not an athlete that only loves the game,” he gulps. “I have a family. A big ass one. And we are all pretty damn tight. They’re important to me. I balance that with the game, with my commitments. I do charity stuff with my mom—all kinds of things. I just, I wanted you to see that.”
My hand shakes as I touch his cheek. “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”
“I don’t know what this is between us. Not exactly,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I know it’s all happened pretty fast and I feel like I don’t know what would happen tomorrow if you didn’t want to see me.”
“I feel the same way about you. I just don’t know if it can work long-term.”
“I’m not saying it has to. Not yet. I just know that it really seems like, with you, it’s the right time, right place, right face.”
Bursting out laughing, I kiss his cheek. “Did you make up that rhyme?”
“I did. It was a good one, huh?”
“Something like that.” I stretch out on the sofa, my head in his lap. I’m not sure what this means, but there’s nowhere else I want to be right now than right here.
Danielle
HIS CACKLING GIGGLE STREAMS DOWN the hallway, and before I even turn the corner, I know it’s Rocky. Peeking around the bend, I see his bright-red hair flopping as he hoists a basketball in the hair. It rolls along the rim of the portable hoop before cascading down the side and into the net that keeps the balls from bouncing every which way.
“Almost!” I say. “Flick your wrist a little more.”
“What do you know about basketball?” he asks, his little button nose crinkling.
“Hey, now,” I giggle, ruffling his hair. “I grew up hearing all kinds of sports conversations.”
He shoots me a look that tells me he’s not quite convinced. “All right. But hey,” he says, his eyes sparkling again as he throws his little arm haphazardly across his buddy, Tommy’s, shoulders. “We were wondering if we could do balloons again? You know, the ones that twist like animals and stuff.”
“I’ll do my best. Now it’s time for you guys to head to your rooms.”
“But before we go,” Rocky interjects, sticking a finger in the air, “one more question.”
“Make it quick,” I laugh.
“When is Lincoln coming back?”
Hearing his name makes my heart skip a beat. Rocky smiles wide and it’s a long moment before I realize he’s mirroring mine.
“I’m not sure, Rocky,” I admit. “But I think he’s planning on dropping by soon.”
“Yay!” Rocky shouts, before leading Tommy down the hall. “I told you he would be back! Just wait ’til he comes . . .”
The rest of the conversation is buried under the sound of sneakers squeaking against the tile and the racket of a medicine cart being wheeled down the hall. Glancing at the mail in my hand, I head back into my office.
The phone is ringing as I enter and I toss the envelopes on my desk and pick it up.
“Danielle Ashley,” I chirp.
“Hey, Danielle. It’s Gretchen.”
“How are the budget meetings going?”
A short laugh rips through the phone. It’s one of those laughs that isn’t a response to humor, but more of a cover-up for something else. Something less funny. “Shit,” she follows-up. “My God, the board wants to hack us down to nothing!”
“You’re joking.” Reaching blindly behind me, I find the armrest to my chair and slide it beneath me. “What are they doing?”
“What are they not doing is the real question,” she huffs. “If they get their way, our budget going forward will look like a third of what it does now.”
“A third?” I nearly shout. “We can barely operate as it is! They can’t be serious.”
“They’re serious, Danielle. Dead serious. I just . . . I’m at a loss for words.” She ends her statement on a sigh, the weight of her battle landing on me.
This department was completely overhauled by me and Gretchen, made into something truly special. Parents fight for their kids to come here because of the atmosphere. We keep the kids lively, engaged. We keep them from remembering they’re sick.