Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
B RENT WATCHED AS HENRY cranked back and swung the bat. His delivery was naturally graceful, and the ball pinged against the metal before sailing over the second baseman's head and rolling into the outfield. Henry flew around first base, never breaking stride as he took second and headed toward where Brent coached third base. His eyes had searched Brent's as soon as his foot hit the second base. The boy played heads-up ball.
It was the top of the fifth inning and the Warriors were up by nine runs. If he sent Henry home, the game would be over by the ten-run rule. So he held him up. It was too pretty a day to end the game so early.
Warmer weather had played hide-and-seek all spring long in the South, darting across a few days, baking them in warmth, then disappearing again, causing everyone to hunt for sweats to pull on. But this afternoon was warmer than the past few days, and Brent enjoyed the heat of the sun on his shoulders.
Henry shot him a smile and delivered some knucks.
"Good hit, bud," Brent said, glad to see Henry showed no ill effects from having been left at school the day before yesterday. In fact, he seemed back to himself. Thank God.
The bat cracked again. Brent waved Henry home, and the game ended.
Brent watched as Rayne's son celebrated with the rest of the team. The Warriors remained undefeated and there was general consensus among the boys that this could be the year they took the city championship. Brent didn't want to focus only on the cutthroat competition for first place, but he was proud of them all the same. They were a good team and having Henry aboard had rounded them out.
A tender something moved in his chest at the thought of Rayne’s son. He was certain it was pride, though he wasn't sure he was entitled to it.
The boy was an incredible athlete, but there was much more to him. A bone-tickling sense of humor, a sweet vulnerability, and a thirst for someone to love him.
Brent walked to the pitching machine and unhooked it to store in the equipment shed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rayne stand and gather her camp chair and a small cooler.
She looked as lovely as the rose he often compared her to. Deceptively soft as satin with a protection designed to leave a person wondering how he'd come away with a prick of blood.
He dashed his once again too-poetic thoughts as he wheeled the machine down the first base line.
He and Rayne had not spoken since she'd grabbed her purse, twisted her tangled hair into a ponytail, and hurried to the school to pick up Henry. Usually, he had no problem not seeing a woman after he'd slept with her, but this felt different with Rayne. Maybe because of Henry. Or maybe because of the feelings he’d carried for so long for his neighbor.
He’d never callously used women in the past - he always made sure they understood what he was willing to give. Obviously, he'd failed with Tamara, who he'd not seen since the night he'd stepped in it at Cooley's. Damned messy.
But making love with Rayne had been exactly that to him. Making love, a first time for him. And he didn’t want it to be the last time. He wanted Rayne for keeps.
Henry, too.
And that thought scared the socks off him.
He locked the shed and turned toward the dugout. Rayne still stood among the other parents, no doubt discussing what dishes they'd bring that night to the banquet. He loved the way she moved her hands when she talked. Henry ran around with Cameron Harp, racing to the concession stand and back. She and Henry looked as if they belonged here. That thought buoyed him, so he headed her way.
"Hey," he said, touching her shoulder lightly, drawing her attention away from the other mothers. Was it too intimate?
She turned and her cheeks bloomed with color. "Hey, yourself. Good game.”
Why was she blushing? Was it shame? Did she regret what had happened between them? No. What had occurred between them had been good, not tainted with guilt. She'd been his equal in every way-not the muse-like specter she'd accused him of creating in his mind. What had happened had been initiated by her, and it had been absolutely good and right between them.
"You coming tonight?" he asked. His mind dipped right to naughty at his own words. Hers must have, too, for her eyes widened. Desire hummed in his veins as he noted the delicate pulse in her neck, the smooth slope of her shoulder, the smell of vanilla that was her essence.
"You mean the Oak Stand Athletic Club celebration banquet?"
"Did you think I meant something else?" he asked, trying to make it teasing, but failing. It sounded like an invitation.
Her cheeks deepened in color and she laughed nervously. "Of course not. I knew you meant the banquet."
For the past three years the Oak Stand Athletic Club had hosted a banquet at the beginning of May rather than at the end. Most families had little energy or enthusiasm for baseball parties in late May with the end of school and the launch of vacations. Trophies were awarded at the last game, but they held the banquet before things got too hectic.
"Well, our coach is being honored as Coach of the Year. I wouldn't miss it," she said, smiling as she glanced to where Henry messed around with a few teammates. "Henry’s so excited you're receiving the award. He's talked about nothing else for the past week... just in case anyone around our house forgot about it."
She spoke so the other mothers could hear her.
Brandi and a few others laughed appropriately. Stacy even gave him a thumbs-up before grabbing Cameron's bat bag and trudging toward her minivan. Waves and "see ya tonights" were given as the crowd of parents thinned out.
Brent gave a wave or two and refocused on the woman standing in front of him. "I'm supposed to sit at the head table tonight, but I can have a guest. Do you want to sit with me? Henry, too, of course."
"We can sit with you?" Henry squealed, skidding to a stop in front of them.
Rayne opened her mouth and then shut it. She stared at Henry and then looked back at Brent. He could read her eyes. She knew sitting with him would send a message. A very public message.
''Come on, Mom, we got to," Henry pleaded, nearly jumping up and down. "It'll be so cool."
Brent waited. Henry hopped about squeaking, "Please." And Rayne looked like a mouse in a trap.
Was showing everyone in Oak Stand that they were an item really that bad?
HOW HAD HENRY HEARD brENT? He'd been airplaning around, whooping with the other boys. Jeez. Boys and their selective hearing. How could Rayne say no now? She couldn't. But it seemed another giant step in a direction she wasn’t sure she wanted to go. Sitting with Brent made a statement, one everyone would be talking about. Was she ready for that? She supposed if she could sneak around and have hot sex with her son’s coach, she should at least be willing to sit with him at a baseball banquet.
Still, setting her plate next to him on a raised platform in front of Oak Stand's finest would have implications.
Was she afraid of them? Afraid the town would see her as another notch on Brent's bedpost? Would they see her as easy or weak? Or merely like Brandi? A woman looking for a plaything.
Self-doubts liked to play ping-pong with her thoughts.
Brent watched her. She could see his thoughts, see his worry. He wanted her to say yes. He wanted to claim her out in the open. The idea both thrilled her and scared her.
She'd not told a soul that she'd slept with Brent, though naughty Aunt Fran had given her sly smiles and made juvenile innuendoes about sausage yesterday morning.
"I guess we could," she said, slinging her purse over her shoulder along with the cooler strap. Brent took the chair and carried it over to her car. "You don't want your parents to sit with you? It's a nice honor."
Brent shook his head. "I'd rather have you next to me.”
Those words sank into her brain, rattled around, and did something to her heart. "Okay. I'll be there."
"Let me pick you up. No sense taking two cars."
Henry had stopped to throw dirt clods at a Dumpster. No one else was around her car. Brent moved closer to her, caught her hand. She put the cooler on the back floor and shut the door. "You think that's a good idea?"
He smiled and the heat in his blue eyes told her he was thinking of more than baseball and banquet speeches. She felt her blood ignite. His subtle, clean scent wrapped around her, a reminder of the way his skin felt against hers. She also remembered the way she'd called his name when she'd tumbled over into the most intense orgasm she'd had.
Ever.
"I've been thinking a lot of things are a good idea," he said, his voice low. "Like I missed taking that shower with you. I had plans for that oil."
His hand slid up her arm to the delicate spot in the curve of her elbow. He stroked, causing liquid heat to unfurl inside her. He trailed one finger up her arm to where she'd rolled up the Warriors T-shirt before sliding it to the sensitive flesh beneath her arm. It should have tickled. It didn't. It inflamed.
"Rain check?" she said.
"Oh, yeah. Definitely." He smiled and she felt her toes curl in anticipation. Jeez, the man was sex on a stick. Hedonistic takeout. Drive-by orgasm. Not to mention, the Jake Ryan of her high school heart. The absolute in ideal guys. Not to mention, Brent was smart, good-natured, and her kid was half in love with him. Was there any better prospect for a nearly thirty-two year-old widow than Brent Hamilton?
Other than the fact he'd broken her heart once before?
And that's what stopped her.
That and the fact she hadn't planned on Brent happening. Her life was beyond shaky. Well, not shaky. Uncertain. If the Food Network deal fell through, she'd go back to Austin and pop into Oak Stand only on occasion. It wouldn't make sense to stay in Oak Stand, unless... She scratched the thought from her mind. Brent implied he wanted more than friendship, more than hot afternoon sex, but what did that mean? Dating?
Commitment? Marriage? Those questions had clogged her mind over the past forty-eight hours. She'd visited them again and again. And received no answer.
"So when can I redeem that rain check?" He leaned close and she thought he might kiss her, but he merely wanted to tempt her. He knew she was revved up. Such a tease.
"I don't know-"
"Let's go already, Mom. I'm starving." Henry edged past Brent and pulled the passenger door open. He tossed his baseball bag in then climbed inside before looking back expectantly. "Come on. Today."
Rayne stared at her son through the glass. She looked at Brent. He scowled.
''Watch your manners," Brent said, propping a hand on the top of the car and leaning toward Henry.
"Huh?” her son said.
Rayne could have been offended at having Brent fuss at her son. But something about it felt good. It felt like something a coach should address. Or a... father.
"It should be sir," Rayne said.
"Oh." Henry said looking puzzled. "Huh, sir?
"You didn't say ‘excuse me’ and you interrupted our conversation. You also shouldn't demand things of your mother. She deserves your respect." Brent's tone was matter-of-fact.
Henry's mouth fell open a little before shame crept into his cheeks. He turned as red as she had earlier. "Sorry, Mom. And, uh, Coach."
Rayne sighed. Another thing she'd gotten wrong in Parenting 101. Great. She needed to pay better attention to how Henry addressed her and other adults. Brent had pinched her toes a bit stepping on them. But he'd further cemented the idea that Henry needed some male guidance in his life. But did that mean Brent should be that form of guidance?
"Thank you for apologizing," Rayne said with a small smile. "Now get your fanny into the backseat."
Henry's shoulders sank and he blew out a disgusted breath. "Fine."
She cleared her throat.
"I mean, yes, ma'am."
Brent nudged her shoulder when she gave her own heavy sigh. "He's a good boy. Don't overanalyze."
She tossed Brent a weak smile. Things felt so heavy. She felt laden with too much, and adding Brent to the mix had felt right in one sense, but her head also refused to believe a love interest in the midst of upheaval was a good idea. She'd always been good at following her head. This time she'd ignored the alarms and clanging bells of warning that begged her to slow down. Listening to her heart? Not so much. Hearts got girls in trouble.
"I'll pick you up at five-thirty. I need to get there a little early," Brent said, closing the passenger door and giving Henry a wave.
She walked to the driver's side. "I'll be ready."
But her words felt hollow.
Thing was, she couldn't think with Brent next door, on the porch, ion the back stoop, smiling that smile, suggesting things like dancing and …taking showers together. Too much temptation, too much acting and not thinking. And she needed to think, get some clarity. Especially before Monday hit and she learned the network’s decision.
Rayne slid into her car, turned the key, and looked back at her son in the rearview mirror.
He caught her eye and gave her a smile. "Mom, do you think you could marry Coach Brent?"
Her foot slipped and hit the accelerator. She nearly took out an overflowing trash can, but managed to brake and mutter a dirty word at the same time.
"Just asking," her son said.
"Why would you ask that?”
"Because I like him. And I can tell he likes you. And you laugh a lot more around him. He'd be a good addition. Or maybe we could go live with him. I like that dog."
Rayne sighed. "You want me to marry because of a dog?"
Henry made a face in the mirror. "No, not just 'cause of a dog. Because Coach is really good at playing ball. I could use a guy like him around. I'm tired of not having a dad."
She put the car in Drive. “Those are not good enough reasons to change everything about our life."
“They are to me,” Henry said.
“Well, a marriage is first and foremost about the two people who say the vows. They have to be in love and willing to make that commitment.”
“But kids count for something, right? I should get a say so, and I say Coach Brent would be a good dad and a good husband. One of my friend said his mom said he was a good kisser. Husbands have to kiss the wives, you know.”
Rayne frowned at the road ahead of her. “Oh, I know.”
Boy, did she.