19 - Haley
19
Haley
When I was younger, I was turned on by really simple, stereotypical things. I liked muscles on a guy, especially biceps. I was also attracted to tattoos. That’s probably why I was immediately attracted to Lucas: not only was he one of the most chiseled players on the high school baseball team, but he was the first boy in our school to have a tattoo sleeve. I also liked how rebellious he was back then. He wasn’t like the other boys.
But watching Jordan teach my son to play baseball?
Swoon .
This was a much deeper level of attraction. It was primal, fueled by thousands and thousands of years of human evolution. Not only was this guy extremely hot in his dress clothes with the sleeves rolled up, but he was also filling a valuable gap in Bran’s life. Seamlessly sliding into a role that I had told myself I didn’t really need, because I could raise him all by myself.
I finally understood what women meant when they said their ovaries were twitching. Because right now, mine were practically vibrating with excitement.
It only got worse when he agreed to give us a ride home.
“Okay, you need to stop thanking me,” he said when we got into his truck. “It’s on my way home. Literally only thirty seconds out of the way.”
The truck looked and smelled surprisingly clean. “Is this new?” I asked.
“Nah, I bought it a few years ago,” he replied.
He was attractive, good with kids, and he was clean? I tried to ignore how much that turned me on.
“Seat belt, kiddo,” he told Bran. Then he put his arm across the back of my seat and looked over his shoulder while backing out of the parking spot. “I’ve got a rear camera, but I still manually look. Old habits die hard.”
His scent filled my nose, intoxicating deodorant with a hint of dust from the baseball field.
Bran and Jordan chatted about baseball while we drove back to our place. He parked in front of the house, then got out and came around the side to open the door for me, then Bran. Sara was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, watching the entire thing like it was a show. I’d texted her ahead of time to warn her.
“Big step down,” he said, taking Bran’s hand. “Ready? Jump!”
Bran laughed as his feet hit the curb. “Can Coach Jordy stay for dinner?”
“Oh, I’m sure he has plans,” I said, not wanting Jordan to feel obligated.
“I don’t need to crash your family dinner,” the blond man replied.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Sara called down from the porch. “I made lasagna.”
Jordan looked hopeful, but said, “I don’t want to impose…”
“Not at all!” Sara said sweetly. “Harper just called to tell me he’s stuck working late. We have plenty of food.”
Bran whirled to face Jordan. “ Please stay for dinner, Coach Jordy? You can tell Aunt Sara how good I’m getting at baseball. Please? Please?”
Jordan raised an eyebrow at me. Giving me the final say in whether or not he stayed.
“We’d love to have you,” I said. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for driving us home.”
A big smile spread across Jordan’s face. “I do love lasagna.”
While Jordan washed up in the bathroom, I pulled Sara aside. “I want to make something very clear. Jordan is Bran’s baseball coach now. I shouldn’t get involved with him.”
“You mean more than you already have,” Sara teased.
I playfully slapped her arm. “He’s also Lucas’s best friend. And don’t you dare point out that it didn’t stop me from having a foursome with them.”
“But it didn’t,” she said.
“I have zero interest in Jordan Mayfield,” I reiterated. “This isn’t a date.”
Sara smiled mischievously. “But it could be!”
I took Bran back to our apartment above the garage and got him all cleaned up for dinner. When we returned to the main house, Jordan and Sara were roaring with laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“We were just talking about you,” Sara said.
I squinted suspiciously.
“We were talking about your bad habits,” Jordan explained while setting the table. “How you used to chew on your pens until the plastic was all mangled.”
“And how you nervously tap your foot while studying,” Sara added. “You still do that.”
“I do not!” I protested.
Sara gave me a level look. “Last week, you sat at this table with your laptop and tapped your foot for over an hour while writing up the listing for a new house. I had to put headphones on.”
“It was a difficult listing,” I complained. “And my work paid off. The house got three offers already.”
Sara opened the oven and started to bend over to retrieve the lasagna, which was difficult in her very-pregnant state. “Here, let me get that,” Jordan said, taking the oven mitts from my sister and edging her out of the way. He carried the glass pan across the kitchen and placed it on the table.
“I’ve seen you wear a lot of mitts today,” I said. “Between this and the catcher’s mitt…”
“I’m a man of many talents,” he said proudly. “Which seat is mine?”
Jordan took Harper’s usual spot at the four-person table, and I sat to his right. He had longer legs than Harper, and my feet brushed against his leg when I sat down.
“Sorry,” we both said at the same time. I felt my cheeks redden.
Across from me, Sara smiled knowingly.
The first half of the meal was spent talking about baseball. Bran bombarded Jordan with questions while Sara and I only listened.
As soon as there was a pause in the conversation though, Sara asked, “Did you end up joining the circus, Jordan?”
Jordan blinked. “Uh, the circus?”
“In our yearbook, you were voted most likely to run away to join the circus,” Sara explained. “But I’ve never seen a circus performer wear a tie.”
Jordan laughed at the memory. “Wow. I forgot all about that. Nope, I didn’t join the circus.”
“What do you do?” Sara prodded.
“I’m a pediatrician.”
I almost choked on my garlic bread.