Chapter Eight
“I appreciate you shuttling me back and forth to the job site,” Sandra said.
The commute allowed her more time to spend with Paxton. Even if it was a short commute and she wasn’t pursuing him, she still enjoyed his company.
“Same time tomorrow?”
“I need to work at the Cut n’ Curl in the morning. I can walk over.”
He glanced her way as he pulled into the driveway of the charming Victorian. “I don’t mind picking you up from work. I know a person can walk everywhere in Tuckers Bluff, but why walk when I can give you a ride?”
She didn’t want to inconvenience him. “You sure?”
“I’m more than sure.” He gave her that lopsided Farraday grin.
The front door opened and her mother rushed out. That was odd. Something had to be wrong. Sandra didn’t wait for Paxton to open her car door. She was out of the vehicle like a shot. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Her mother repeated the question stopping in her tracks.
“Why are you practically running out of the house? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Her mom actually rolled her eyes. “I wanted to talk to Paxton.”
He was already out of his truck and circling the front of his truck to where they stood. That same smile adorned his face. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping you might stay for dinner? I got a little carried away in the kitchen and made enough food for my boarders and a small army. Since I don’t have a lot of freezer space, I’ll settle for a man with a healthy appetite.”
Paxton looked from one woman to the other. “That’s mighty thoughtful of you.”
“Mom.” Sandra turned to face Paxton. “I know you’ve had a long day. If it’s not convenient, I’m sure my mother will take a rain check.” She didn’t know about him but after a hard days work, she would kill for a long hot shower. Especially if she was going to be sitting across from Paxton at the dinner table.
“What better after a long day than a good home-cooked meal.” Her mother’s eyes suddenly sprang open wide. “Not that your Aunt Eileen isn’t a good cook. She certainly knows her way around a kitchen, but it is a long drive back to the ranch.” As her mom often did, she spoke first and her brain engaged later and now was trying very hard to backpedal. “What do you say?”
She flashed her mother a cross-eyed look, but her mother just smiled back.
“I’d love to stay for dinner. That would be great.” He followed the two women up the porch steps and paused by the doormat, stomping his feet, and brushing a days work off his boots. “I’m afraid I’m a bit dusty.”
“No worries.” Her mom waved him inside. “We all track in this Texas dust anyway.”
Sandra had no idea how this happened, but thanks to her mom, Paxton was staying for dinner.
“Did you ask him?” David stood just inside the foyer, his contained nervous energy obvious to anyone with eyes.
“I did.” Her mother winked at her grandson.
“Then he’s staying?”
There was little doubt in Sandra’s mind that her mother was not so subtly trying her hand at matchmaking, but it was also clear that her son very much wanted to spend time with Paxton.
“Yes, he’s staying.” Her mother spun around and pausing just long enough to gently run her hand down David’s cheek in a tender gesture, she marched back to the kitchen.
David whooped and Sandra turned to Paxton. “I think you have a fan.”
A chuckle rumbled out of him as he motioned for her to lead the way. “I hope he’s not my only fan.”
His words almost had her tripping over her own feet. What did he mean by that? Was he referring to her, or someone else? And why did it even matter.
From the kitchen, her mother called out, “David, why don’t you go play outside until supper is ready?”
There was no need to ask her son twice. As she’d suspected was true of all little boys, he loved being outside and discovering all sorts of mischief. A moment later, the screen door slammed shut behind David.
Shaking her head at the noise, she turned to Paxton, ready to give him one last out. “If you have somewhere else to be, I’m sure my mother will understand.”
“Nope. Nowhere else to be. I was planning on popping into O’Faredeigh’s for dinner anyhow. But, if you don’t mind, I’d love to at least wash my hands before supper.”
“Oh, of course.” She extended her arm to the opposite end of the foyer. “Powder room is that way.”
Having left his hat in the truck, he bobbed his head and disappeared through the doorway.
While she waited, her mind began turning. If he had nowhere to go, did that mean there was no woman in his life? Could it be someone as handsome and nice as Paxton Farraday didn’t have a girlfriend? Why did that thought make her heart leap? She didn’t want anything to make her heart leap. She’d already had one man in her life. She did not need another. Not even Paxton Farraday.
The aroma of something awfully delicious smacked Paxton in the face as he stepped into the kitchen. “Oh, that really does smell wonderful.”
“Hope you like meat loaf, mac and cheese, and fresh baked corn bread.”
The woman really wasn’t kidding when she said that she’d cooked enough for an army. “I love corn bread.”
“Good.” Alice Baker wiped her hands on her apron and reached for a stack of dishes.
“Here.” He reached forward. “Let me?”
“Nonsense.” She smacked the top of his hand. “Guests don’t set the table. Go outside and enjoy a little fresh air. I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”
He glanced over at Sandra, wondering if the right thing to do was to insist on helping, or doing as he was told. What he really wanted was to stay where Sandra was.
“You too.” The feisty woman waved her hand in a shooing motion at her daughter. “I don’t need a herd of people in my kitchen.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sandra responded sweetly, but behind her mother, she rolled her eyes and gestured for him to follow her.
Outside, he saw David throw a football, but didn’t make it very far. It had no spiral and Paxton wondered, had no one had ever taught David to throw? What was the deal with his father? Why wasn’t he teaching his son how to use a hammer and throw a football?
“Toss it this way, sport.”
David put all of his weight into the toss but it didn’t wind up anywhere near Paxton.
Picking up the football, Paxton held it out to David. “Here, let’s see if we can’t put a little more oomph in that throw.” Thankful he wasn’t playing with a regulation-size pigskin, Paxton helped fold David’s small fingers around the football. “If you put your fingers on the strings, and then hold it back by your ears before you throw it, the ball should spiral off of your fingers.”
David nodded at the instructions, his gaze so intent it was as if Paxton had given him the nuclear codes. The boy held the ball with his fingers on the strings and cocked back his arm. This time the ball sailed further and there was a slight wobbly spiral.
“That’s the way,” Paxton encouraged him.
Meanwhile, Sandra stood behind them clapping. “Great job, David.”
The little boy beamed at his mother and then shuffled his feet. “Do you know how to throw a baseball?”
Paxton had played all of the sports. He’d been partial to football. Played on the offensive line, subbing as quarterback for a game or two, but he liked baseball too. He patted the boy on the shoulder. “Sure do. Do you have mitts and a baseball?”
The boy lit up and raced off toward a plastic container set up against the house. He flung open the lid and pulled out the necessary items, then ran back and handed Paxton a mitt. “I hope it fits. My dad is shorter than you.”
“It’ll be fine, buddy.” No point in explaining that height had little to do with mitt size. Sort of like feet. Tall or short didn’t always play a part in shoe size.
Clearly more than a little excited, David ran to the other end of the yard.
“Let’s start closer, David. I’d rather you work on technique than distance or speed, okay?”
Nodding with that same intense look on his face, David moved closer. “Here?”
“Right there, buddy.”
David wound up and threw the ball. Better than with the football, but far enough away that Paxton had to reach out to catch it. “Not bad. Did someone teach you that?”
“Mom tried, but she throws like a girl.”
He bit back a smile. “I bet she throws pretty good.” Glancing over his shoulder at her still standing by the house watching, Sandra shrugged at him. He didn’t know how she did now as an adult, but as a kid she’d kept up with the impromptu games at the ranch.
There were a lot of things he didn’t know about the grown-up Sandra Lynn. Things he’d like to know, from her favorite color and food, to what really brought her back to Tuckers Bluff? Feeling foolish for simply staring at her, he waved at her, more delighted than he should have been when she grinned and waved back.
“Are we finished already?”
Turning back to the tossing session, David’s head was cocked as he studied Paxton. For such an energetic young boy, he sure had some grown-up intensity. “Nope. Not finished. You ready to catch one?”
“Go ahead.” David smiled.
Paxton casually tossed the ball. “What position do you want to play?”
“Shortstop.” He scooped the ball up and threw the ball back as hard as he could. “Or catcher.”
For now, he would be a little short for shortstop, but catcher would fit his size well.
“Did you play baseball?” David focused on the ball slicing through the air toward him.
“I covered first base. That’s because I was the tallest kid on the team. You want that in case anyone overthrows. I could stop most things coming my way.”
David nodded.
Paxton wasn’t sure if the kid really understood, or was just being polite. Though what he really suspected was that this poor child was starved for male attention. The sad sensations that settled in his gut worked to remind Paxton just how blessed he’d been growing up. He had parents who paid attention, showing all their kids lots of affection and interest, and then he had all his brothers to play with. And for a while there, his cousins too.
Another ball came sailing towards him. Already David’s arm was improving. “When can we work on the tree house?”
Knowing his mother wasn’t thrilled about a tree house, he turned to see Sandra’s reaction. Her smiling expression hadn’t changed much in the last few minutes. The problem was he had no idea if she was smiling over her son’s baseball skills, over helping David build a tree house, or if she was merely contemplating the immortality of the crab.
“Paxton?”
“Oh. Sorry, sport.” Turning away from Sandra Lynn, he faced David. “How about I come over on Saturday and we work on it? We’ll have more time then.”
Almost bouncing in place, David nodded. “Sweet.”
Taking a minute to glance back at Sandra, it struck him that he couldn’t have said it better himself… Sweet.