Chapter 4
The humidity was so thick Nash could taste it.
Condensation clung to the windows when he started the truck this morning.
The temperature on the dash read eighty-six and was well on its way to a high of ninety-five.
Nash dreaded sitting in the scorching sun all day, but no way he’d miss one of Davey’s games.
His parents, though? That worried him. He made sure to bring extra water and sunscreen.
His mom was fair-skinned and burned easily.
And while he and his father shared the ability to tan, Dad’s recent heart problems made Nash question if a day in the July heat was a good idea.
But he couldn’t say no to his parents or his son, and all three of them were excited for today’s game.
Nash pulled off the freeway and weaved through the streets of his old neighborhood.
He loved growing up here. It never felt like the big city, not back then.
But when he moved to Gray Duck Grove, he found his new home and loved it just as much.
The only thing that would make it better was if Davey lived with him full-time.
Nash passed one of St. Paul’s prestigious universities and several historic houses.
A few more turns, and he was in a modest, middle-class neighborhood.
He parked in front of his parents’ blue and white bungalow.
Cade’s old house was across the street. A smile tugged at his cheek as memories of their childhood antics came back to him.
Pulling his attention back to his parents’ house, Nash frowned. The bushes in the front were overgrown and needed trimming. One more thing to add to his list when he came up to pick up Davey next weekend.
He opened the truck door, and his sunglasses fogged from the heat. Good thing he brought one of those big sunshades. He clicked the key fob and restarted the vehicle as he walked to the front door. Anything to keep the interior cool.
Reaching for the bell, he noticed the faded paint. He made a mental note to add it to his list. His repair list was growing by the second, and he hadn’t even entered the house yet.
“Hi, honey. You’re early.” Georgia Steele stretched up to hug him.
At five-eleven, Nash wasn’t exceptionally tall, but he felt like an NBA player when his mom hugged him.
“Your father is in the garage pulling out the chairs.”
“I brought chairs, Mom.” It made no sense, but he knew they would be bringing his parents’ chairs as well.
“Oh, you know he likes that lounger chair your sister got him for Father’s Day last year.”
“I sure do. It feels like I’m in my recliner. What better way to watch the game.” Paul Steele gestured to the back door. “The stuff is outside. Let’s get loaded and head out. That way we can get good seats.”
No sense in arguing.
His mom set a big, floppy hat on her perfectly styled hair and grabbed a big bag.
Nash followed his parents to the garage. Whoa! He pulled up short at the pile of stuff on the floor. “All this?”
“Well, sure. Your mother needs the big umbrella, and we want the comfortable chairs.” His dad grabbed a baseball cap and locked the house door.
“I packed a cooler with those sports drinks Davey likes and some snacks.” She smiled like it was totally normal to pack a week’s worth of food for one baseball game. Two if they won.
Nash shook his head and carried the first load to the truck. He dropped the tailgate and sighed. “Glad to see we’ll have ample shade.”
Always be prepared. Right. Overkill came to mind.
Nash shoved the pop-up shade to the side, making room for his mom’s giant umbrella.
He stepped back and mentally calculated how he would cram all the stuff in the pile into his six-foot truck bed.
If there was one thing he’d learned in the army, it was how to pack for a month in one duffel. Times like this, he missed those days.
Four trips to the garage later, and they were finally ready to go. Thank God he had a four-door truck or he’d have to strap his parents to the roof. He chuckled at the visual of his father hood-surfing across town.
At the ball fields, Nash unloaded, hauled all the stuff to the field, and set up the sunshade.
Once he got his parents settled in, he pulled a drink from the cooler.
He tipped back the can and took a healthy gulp.
The cool beverage slid down his throat. “Ah.” He melted back into the chair. Time to enjoy the game.
The players were all huddled by their bench. Nash caught Davey’s attention and waved. His son said something to his coach before he took off down the sideline straight toward them at lightning speed.
“Hey, guys. I’m catcher today.” Catcher was Davey’s favorite position to play. He leaned down and hugged his grandparents before fist-bumping his dad.
“You got this.” Nash tapped the brim of his son’s cap. The coach had been moving the players around this season to find their sweet spot in preparation for the high school team in a couple of years.
“That’s wonderful, dear. Do you have sunscreen on?” Nash’s mom held out a can of 50 SPF.
Nash caught Davey’s eye roll, but his son let her spray more on his arms and neck. “Thanks, Grandma.”
“Go get ‘em, slugger.” Paul high-fived his grandson.
Nash nodded and watched as his son ran off to join the rest of his team in warm-ups.
The first player was up to bat, and Nash settled in for a good game.
But over the next two hours, Nash questioned his life choices, especially the one to bring his parents to Davey’s game.
“Hey, Ump! Do you need new glasses? That was a fair ball!” Nash’s dad yelled for the tenth time in the last hour.
Nash sank a little lower into his chair. His father yelled a lot. He was very vocal… about everything. An out at plate. A ball dropped. It didn’t matter. Paul Steele made his thoughts heard.
His mom, on the other hand, cheered and clapped, but didn’t really follow the game.
“Those kids should get more water breaks. They could get sunstroke in this heat.”
“It’s baseball. They can hydrate when they are on the bench.” Paul huffed. “But those umpires could be better. They missed the tag out on third.”
“They’re volunteers, Dad.” The high school kid was probably being paid minimum wage to ump this game.
At the bottom of the seventh, Georgia got up. “I’m going to see if the players on the bench need anything.”
Ever the hostess. Nash loved her. He just hoped her generosity didn’t embarrass Davey.
Nash scanned the crowd. Beth sat in the small bleachers behind the dugout. She made eye contact and waved. He waved back. Her husband waved too. Nash gave him a head tilt.
He liked the guy well enough. The man was a good stepdad to Davey, and after nine years, Nash didn’t clench his jaw every time he saw the man.
The game ended in a seven-to-nine loss for the boys. After the players all shook hands and the coach gave them a final speech, Davey jogged down the baseline to them.
“You played a great game, slugger.” Paul patted Davey on the back.
“Thanks, Grandpa.” He hugged his grandma, and she handed him a Rice Krispie treat before he turned to high-five Nash.
“Good game.”
“Thanks, Dad. The team is going out for pizza. Do you want to come?”
Nash looked at his parents. Both looked a little wilted from the mid-ninety-degree heat. “I think I should take Grandma and Grandpa home. You have fun with your friends, and I will pick you up next Friday.”
“Sounds good. Bye.” Davey promised he’d come see them sometime this week and ran off to his teammates.
The smell of flowers with a hint of sweat enveloped him. He turned to find Beth and one of the moms.
“Thanks for coming, Nash. Davey loves having you here. Georgia and Paul as well.” Beth smiled, crinkles appearing beside her sunglasses.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Not one, and Beth knew that.
“Are you joining us for pizza?” Jillian asked. Davey’s friend’s mom was newly divorced and, from her body language, on the prowl.
“Not this time.” Funny, did Beth’s shoulders relax at his reply?
“Well, maybe next time. Or, you can bring Davey over for a playdate, and we can have a beer by the pool.”
Now Beth turned away and scanned the surroundings. She wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with this conversation. Nash just smiled and focused on his ex-wife. “Well, I better get my parents home before they melt.”
“Yeah, Kyle was getting the car. Davey, time to go,” Beth called to her son before turning back to Nash. “See you next week.”
Jillian slipped her arm around Nash’s bicep and fluttered her lashes. “My number’s in the team directory online. Give me a call.”
Nash just smiled and removed her hand from his arm. Take a hint, lady. The last thing he wanted was to date one of Davey’s friends’ moms. That could get messy real fast.
Jillian had been sending some pretty strong signals, and Nash deflected them all. Thankfully, the season was almost over.
He turned to his son and pulled some cash from his wallet. “Here, play some games while you wait for your pie. Practice up, because I’m going to whoop your butt next weekend.” He cracked a smile.
“No way. I always win.” Davey stuffed the money in his pocket and gave his dad a hug before running after his friends.
Beth gave Nash a quiet smile and followed her son.
A throat cleared. “So, you have Davey next weekend? Maybe we can get the boys together for a playdate?”
“Next week is bad for me. Maybe another time.” He started packing up his sunshade.
“You’re a mechanic, right?”
He nodded. “No” hung on the tip of his tongue. He knew what was coming. The ask.
“My Toyota is making a funny noise. I can’t describe it. Maybe I could bring it down and you could take a look under my hood?”
If he had a dollar for every time a woman asked him to look under her hood, he could pay off his house. He pulled out the shop’s business card and handed it to her.
She flipped it over and frowned. No personal information.
“I don’t do side work, but you can call the shop and set up an appointment. I would be glad to look at your vehicle.”
He didn’t know how to be any clearer and not offend her.
Why couldn’t these women be more like Addison? She wouldn’t throw herself at him. Not that he wouldn’t like her to, but that wasn’t the point.
He swung two chairs over his shoulders and picked up the cooler to make his first trip to the truck. Sweat poured down his face, taking his shades down a notch. He shoved them up with his arm and looked at the pile of stuff. If he did some juggling, maybe he could make it in three trips this time.
He glanced over his shoulder. His parents were halfway to the truck. Jillian lingered, so close he could feel the heat rolling off her body. He needed some space.
Preferably space with air conditioning.