Dipping In A Toe
Praise for Linda Carroll-Bradd
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Dipping in a Toe
by
Linda Carroll-Bradd
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Dipping in a Toe
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Linda Carroll-Bradd
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First
Last Rose of Summer
Edition, 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-834-9
Published in the United States of America
Praise for Linda Carroll-Bradd
STEPPING OUT OF LINE
“This is a story I plan to revisit on a regular basis because I really enjoyed nearly everything about it. I’m also looking for more books by the author, because her talent wowed me from the first paragraph, and I don’t think I’m easily wowed.”
~Poppy, Long and Short Reviews
A LEGEND OF IRELAND
“Having been to Ireland myself, the author described it in such a way that brought back all of the beauty and magic of Ireland to me. The characters, the settings, the atmosphere in the small church and at the wake were nicely done. My only complaint: the story was too short. A perfectly magical Irish love story to be enjoyed in March.”
~Starla,- Got Romance Reviews (4 Diamonds)
TEN FANTASY WISHES
“
TEN FANTASY WISHES
definitely lives up to its title even though it’s a short story. Linda brings out an average woman just trying to make ends meet and learn to live on her own and introduces her to a man who just wants to win her love forever. I loved it, just wished it were a little longer.”
~Lena, Fallen Angel Reviews (4 Angels)
Dedication
To my husband Randy,
who after 36 years together,
still makes me laugh almost every day.
Chapter One
The minute I pulled into a parking slot at the Lorenzo Community Aquatics Center, both back car doors flew open. Two sets of tennis shoes hit the asphalt and pounding footsteps hit the pavement as my kids sped off. “Bye, Mom.”
“Careful. Watch out—” I bit my lip to keep from uttering more words of caution. Of course, they’d run—what teen wants to be seen with their mom? Over the last six months, they’d regained their independence and were more spontaneous about venturing from my side. I swallowed against the dry lump threatening to close off my throat.
The effects of their father’s sudden death three years earlier were finally ebbing—only to present new challenges that I sometimes felt unskilled to tackle. How long before I—Jessa Langdon, struggling single mother—stopped worrying about circumstances I couldn’t change?
With jerky moves, I gathered my slouch purse and a fluffy beach towel then slammed the door to my ancient compact car and punched the lock on the key fob.
A late Indian summer heated the northern California air and today promised to be another warm one. For the umpteenth time since putting it on this morning, I tugged at the neckline of my new aqua tank top. An impulse buy on the clearance rack at the department store, the clingy top had a cut lower than I usually wore.
“Hi, Jessa.” Her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, Christy Simms waited at the gate to the city swimming pool, grinning. “Whoa, looking good.”
Leave it to a best friend to notice the fashion details. Grinning, I fingered the shirt’s hem. “Thanks. I couldn’t resist the color.” Or the way the top, paired with my white walking shorts, highlighted the tan I’d earned watching Adam and Sadie’s swim team practices for the past two months. The same practices being coached by the first man who’d caught my eye and made my blood pump a bit faster since I became a widow.
With a nod at Christy, I walked through the open gate and immediately scanned the area for my kids. God, I really had to start thinking of them as teens or youth. They hated the term
kids
and weren’t shy about telling me so.
They’d separated into their respective age groups and chatted with their teammates waiting on the pool deck.
Adam, wiry and brown-haired like his dad, struggled to match the speed of the older boys in the fifteen- to sixteen-year-old group. Sadie, blue-eyed and with a body that copied my more athletic one, was just happy to be with her friends in the twelve-year-old group. Competition wasn’t her thing.
As if pulled by an invisible thread, my gaze went to the tall, fit man with the ever-present clipboard in one hand and a stopwatch in the other. Normally, an adult wearing tropical-print board shorts and a faded T-shirt appeared to cling with desperation to his youth. Instead, Rick Grant wore the attire as a soldier would a medal of honor—like he’d earned the right to promote a decade earlier Hawaiian surfing competition.
Maybe he had. The image of his tan, lean body balancing on top of a surfboard flittered through my mind. I pictured him, thinner but still muscular, body sparkling with water droplets, wavy hair streaked with blonde highlights, outlined against a cerulean blue sky.
Wonder if he wore a goatee back then?
But who was I kidding? This guy was several years younger than I. A heartfelt sigh escaped.
Christy stopped in her ascent up the metal bleachers, glanced over her shoulder, and cocked her head. “You okay?”
Caught
. I whirled toward the tiered viewing area and set a foot on the lowest step. “I’m fine. Where do you want to sit?” Heat burned my cheeks. I held my long hair away from my face and ducked my head, pretending the need to focus on placing my wedge sandals on each step. I didn’t want the other mothers to learn about my pathetic infatuation with the swim coach.
An infatuation I kept telling myself was wrong. Didn’t I have enough to do between my paralegal job, keeping up the house, managing the kids’ activities, and arranging visits with their grandparents? How could I possibly add dating to this hectic lifestyle?
Even if by some wild chance the man in question were to show interest…
“Hey, Jessa, you setting a new fashion trend?” With a laugh, dark-haired Susanne Clark stood and waved a hand at her faded denim cutoffs and polo shirt advertising her kids’ school. “Trying to make the rest of us look bad?”
“Of course not.” A tinge of embarrassment settled over my thoughts. Maybe I
had
gone too far with a half-dozen, silver bangle bracelets and big hoop earrings. I tossed the thick towel on the metal bench two rows up and sat, settling my purse between my feet. “After the meet, I’m taking the kids to visit with Dylan’s folks.”
Christy placed a hand on my arm, her brows pulled into a scowl. “But you’re coming to the pizza party? I’ve been looking forward to a long catching-up talk.”
“Are you kidding? The kids look at the party as their just reward for a season well done.” Plus I had no compunction about using the team party as a perfect excuse to put a limit on the time spent with the elderly Langdons.
A person could listen to her late husband idealized for only so long. The man had his flaws, some worse than others, but not according to his parents. Plus they expected my active kids to sit in a living room that looked more like a designer showcase and not disturb a single knick-knack or collectible. Visits with my former in-laws were best endured when kept short.
Not to mention, I couldn’t deny the wish to see Rick in a social setting. Maybe we’d find we had similar interests or even engage in a bit of flirty conversation. I flashed my friend a smile. “We’re all looking forward to the event.”
For the next two hours, I focused my concentration where it belonged—on my children. I watched with heart in mouth as they stood on the pool deck, poised to dive into their assigned lanes, silently urging them to just do their best. That’s all I really wanted for them—and from them.
Unable to stop myself, I held my breath until they’d stroked through the churning water and safely put a hand on the concrete lip of the opposite side. Their father may have lived with a devil-may-care attitude, always pushing them to challenge themselves. But he wasn’t here any longer, and the widow part of me saw danger in everyday events. A response they both resisted, most vocally, and I tried my best to repress.
Sadie’s last race was over and she sat on the deck, wrapped in her seashell-printed towel, whispering and giggling with Christy’s daughter, Noelle. Sadie—my sweet, happy angel who still loved me to cuddle up beside her to say goodnight. If only I could keep her like this…
An elbow jabbed my side, and Christy leaned close and pointed at the pool. “Erick and Adam are up next. Think they have a chance?”
“Erick’s got a year on Adam, but Adam’s improved so much these last couple of weeks.” In my mind, I gave a big part of the credit to Rick for his devoted training. My gaze drifted to the handsome man walking behind each contestant, checking their foot positions at the edge of the pool. Because I paid attention, I noticed him leaning close and whispering to each of his team members. Last words of encouragement—or challenge.
When he reached Adam, I imagined myself in my son’s position with Rick leaning in close. Whispered words, warm breath on my cheek, scent of heated male skin—how I’d missed the closeness of a man. A longing pulled in my belly, and I squirmed on the bench.
The starting beep sounded over the loudspeaker and my attention jerked back to the pool. Adam’s sinewy arms chopped the water of the third lane and his strong legs created a shimmery wake. He passed a couple of swimmers, his strokes coming faster and his speed increasing.
“Look at that.” Heart pounding, I jumped to my feet, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Come on, Adam. You can do it, buddy.”
With a last burst of energy, he put down his head, stroked hard, and touched the wall for second place in the freestyle match.
“Wahoo!” Pride and excitement shot through me. I pumped a victory fist in the air and scanned the pool deck, looking for Rick. The need to share this victory with someone else, like I would have done with Dylan, welled in my throat.
Rick stood on the deck angled toward the bleachers, not facing the tired, but elated, swimmers emerging from the pool. Sporting a mile-wide smile, he flashed me a thumbs-up sign.
How had he known? The cheers of other spectators muted, and my vision focused on Rick’s intent gaze directed my way. The look was the type of attention that I suddenly craved. Tears welled in my eyes, and I blinked hard to beat them back.
Christy enveloped me in a tight hug and swayed. “Hey, our guys came in second and third. They’ll be happy with that.”
The secret congratulatory moment was gone but I’d savor it a long time. I returned my friend’s hug, trying to talk around the sudden lump in my throat. “Dylan would have been so proud.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Her arms squeezed tighter and then she pushed me to arm’s length, her blue-eyed gaze searching. “You have everything so together that sometimes I forget.”
With my fingertips, I swiped at my moist eyes and shrugged. “That’s okay, Christy. I do my best to love them enough for both of us.”
The next quarter hour was spent applauding the winners of the various races. My heart swelled with motherly pride at the announcement of Adam Langdon as second place in the fifteen- to sixteen-year-old freestyle event. An urge to wrap him in a bear hug overwhelmed me, but I knew I’d have to restrain that exuberance into a single fist-tap to his shoulder—the only public display of affection he allowed.
“Let’s go congratulate our champs.” We gathered our belongings and followed the crowd from the bleachers.
Once on the concrete pool deck, Christy was stopped by another mom and they started chatting.
Knowing our afternoon schedule was full, I waved in her direction. “See you later.” Then I turned toward the swarm of competitors and ran smack into a wall of taut muscle—a wonderfully fit male body. Large hands gripped my arms.
“Hey, slow down.”
The rumbly voice was familiar. Rick? A gasp escaped. I looked up and met his laughing, blue-eyed gaze. Gorgeous dark blue eyes that reminded me of ocean depths. A tremble ran through my insides. “I’m sorry, Coach. I was—”
