Playing the Field: A Diamonds and Dugouts Novel (14 page)

Sonny shook her head and continued to the eat-in kitchen. “No, it’s from an indigenous tribe down in New Zealand.”

“You mean the Maori?”

Surprise had her glancing back at him over her shoulder and momentarily forgetting her self-consciousness at her appearance. “How did you know that?”

JP shrugged his wide shoulders. “I was in New Zealand last year.”

Sonny stopped in her tracks and pegged him with a look. “Shut up. Seriously?” It was her number one place to travel. Someday.

They entered the kitchen and he glanced around the large, open space. “Seriously. A rock climbing buddy of mine and I went down there on vacation during the off-season. He wanted to check out the topography. There’s some rock faces that he’d heard were pretty challenging, but they ended up being too crumbly for good climbing.”

Setting the bag on the counter, Sonny pulled a tissue from the pouch of her sweatshirt and discretely dabbed at her nose before shoving it away again and looking at JP. “You climb?”

He didn’t really seem the type. She’d lived in Boulder County most of her life and had seen her fair share of climbers over the years. Her last boyfriend, The Jerk, had been one. He was the one who’d hung around just long enough to get her naked a few times and stir up her big pot of crazy. Then he’d decided her having a kid was a real drag and broke it off with a text he sent her from Argentina, breaking her heart and trust in one abbreviated message. Nothing JP was wearing came from North Face or REI and he looked like he’d showered at least once in the past week. And he didn’t smell like weed.

JP was holding her vintage Garfield and Arlene ceramic salt and pepper shakers, playing with them. They had little magnets that pulled them together in a kiss. “I climb occasionally, yeah. But I’m more of a mountain biker if I get to choose.”

That she could believe. Because she was dying to know, Sonny blurted out, “Why are you really here, JP?”

“Because I was worried about you.” He pointed to the paper bag. “There’s chicken noodle soup from Panera in there. I doubt it’s still hot, so it’ll probably have to be reheated.”

Flummoxed and touched at his thoughtfulness, Sonny pulled the large to-go container from the bag. Nobody had ever brought her soup before. Now she felt bad for slamming the door in his face. “That was very nice of you. Thank you.”

Straightening, he placed the shakers back on the counter and walked over to her. Coming up behind her, he reached over her shoulder and grabbed the soup. Then he dropped a casual kiss on the top of her head and made for the microwave. “No worries. Why don’t you go relax on the couch while I heat this up?”

Sonny stared at him with wide, watery, googley eyes. She didn’t know what to make of him. Or the way he moved about her kitchen so comfortably. The protest came automatically. “I can do it.”

He waved her off, not even sparing her a glance. “Go. You need to sit. I’ll be there in a few.”

A cough decided to wrack her bones at that moment, punctuating his point. He raised a brow at her and said, “See?” He jerked his head toward the living room. “Go.”

She didn’t really have the energy to be stubborn. “Let me know if you need anything.”

JP merely grunted, too busy fiddling in
her
kitchen to bother with a reply. So she left him there and plodded out to the couch. Once there she flopped onto the deep cushions and curled her feet under her.
Hart of Dixie
was paused on the small flat screen in front of her. Rachel Bilson looked gorgeous and composed, even in near one hundred percent Alabama humidity.

She was contemplating starting the show when JP came out of the kitchen. He’d transferred the soup to one of her white ceramic bowls and was carrying a tall glass of water. It did funny things to her, seeing him in her home at night all relaxed in his socks. The only other guy to ever do that was Charlie. It was a new and not entirely comfortable energy.

At least for her. Vader, on the other hand, was more than happy to have a man in the house. He’d been stuck like Velcro to JP’s side since he’d strode in all manly and full of testosterone. It’s like the dog had finally found his soul mate. Even now he was heeling like a champ at JP’s side, all happy doggie grins.

She wanted to cry
Traitor!,
but she couldn’t actually blame him. If she were a dog she’d probably act like that around JP too.
Oh pet me! Pet me!

When JP passed the television he looked at the scene paused on the screen and asked, “What are you watching?”

Her guilty pleasure. “It’s a show called
Hart of Dixie
about a New York woman who inherits a medical practice in small-town Alabama.”

He handed her the water and soup, then sat down next to her. “Yeah? Is it good?”

Sonny took a sip of the cool water and nodded. “It has numerous love triangles, an ex-NHL player as the mayor, and a pet alligator.”

JP grinned and curled an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. “Sweet.”

A peek at him out of the corner of her eye had her insides shaking. The man was so darned comfortable in her home. He’d even propped his feet up on her coffee table, and Vader had taken up residence by his side. It was all highly disconcerting.

But it turned out to be very relaxed and easy. Sonny ate her soup while they watched an episode and JP absentmindedly petted her dog. It did occur to her at one point how domestic it all was. But before she could wrap her cold-hampered brain around that fact, the chicken soup kicked in and she became groggy.

Catching herself dozing with her head on JP’s shoulder, Sonny sat up straight, but her eyes betrayed her and drifted closed again. On the verge of deep sleep, she felt JP reposition until her head was against his chest and his arms were wrapped loosely around her, snuggling her close.

She mumbled something incoherent and he kissed her hair. “
Shhhh
, sunshine. Just sleep.”

He started up another episode and her last thought before she fell sound asleep against him was that she could get used to this.

Chapter Twelve

JP
WAS UP
bright and early the next morning and headed for Moab before the sun had broken the horizon. It was the first day of the midseason break and he was bailing out of town, heading out to Utah to fight the desert heat with his friend, Garrett Lawson. They’d packed his Tacoma full of the gear they needed for a few days of camping, climbing, and mountain biking. Garrett’s yellow lab, Yeti, had hopped in the back seat and was sprawled out, already snoring. A veteran traveler, the lab knew how to pass the time in style.

He and Garrett went way back, having met at summer camp when JP was twelve. Older by a handful of years, Garrett had been his cabin counselor the first year. And through the luck of the draw, for the next six, JP had always gotten lodged with the professional climber. Over time Garrett had become like a big brother, and now that they both lived in the same place they hung out often.

It was Garrett who’d first introduced him to the fun of Moab. And it was Garrett who’d taught him how to rock climb and repel to begin with.

Now that he was a well-known figure in the climbing world, Garrett travelled all over the globe taking on the hardest routes and most notorious climbs. Then he wrote about them for magazines. He’d even produced a critically acclaimed documentary when he’d taken on the Himalayas in Nepal a few years back.

They finally arrived outside Moab and JP had just turned off onto the dirt road that led to the Onion Creek campground where they were going to pitch tents when Garrett asked, “So, bra, what’s up with you on the lady front?”

The memory of last night’s visit to Sonny’s popped into his head and he couldn’t quite hide the smile that tugged at his lips. “I’ve got something cooking with a sweet thing who lives outside Longmont.”

Garrett shifted his gaze from the steep red clay cliffs and looked at JP from behind a pair of Oakleys. “No shit?”

JP nodded and drove through some creek overflow, surprised that the water was still that high in July. Usually it was drier than a hundred-year-old bone. “Her name’s Sonny and she’s got a kid—a ten-year-old boy who’s terrific.”

The climber scratched his scruffy chin and rolled down the window, letting in the fresh air. Yeti promptly popped up from the back seat and shoved his head out the window. “That’s great, dude. Things are going well?”

Garrett knew him as well as anyone could and JP didn’t have to monitor anything. He guessed the lanky rock-head was his best friend, outside of his brother Ray. “They are. She’s got some hang-ups from old relationships and it’s obvious she dislikes that I’m a public figure, but nothing that’s a deal breaker. I know I can get her to come around about the fame thing.”

Garrett flashed a grin. “How’s the sex?”

What sex? “We’re taking it slow.”

The blond climber laughed. “In other words, you’ve got no game.”

“She’s special, G.”

They came to an empty camp site and JP pulled his truck in and stopped. As soon as the engine turned off, Yeti leapt over the backseat and out the window, clipping Garrett’s shoulder on the way. He began sniffing the ground, and when he found a spot worthy enough, the dog hiked a leg and peed on a sun-bleached shrub.

JP unfolded from the truck and stretched. It wasn’t even noon yet and they were in the shadow of the canyon wall, but it was already damn hot. Sweat beaded almost immediately on his forehead and he used the hem of his T-shirt to swipe at it. Thinking better of it, JP stripped off the white cotton and tied it over his head like a do-rag.

By the time they’d set up camp, the sun was at full blaze and both of them were bare-chested in shorts and flip-flops. Stopping for a cold drink, JP popped the lid on a cooler and grabbed a bottle of Arizona iced tea. He hollered over to Garrett, who was busy oiling the gears on his bike by a pile of boulders. “You got any reception on your cell? I can’t get any.” Coverage in Onion Creek was always spotty for him.

The climber was crouched in front of his bike and pulled his phone from a back pocket. He checked the status and tossed the cell to JP. “I have one bar.”

Snagging the phone in midair, JP dialed Sonny’s number from memory and got voicemail. He was debating whether or not to leave a message, but when he heard the beep, he automatically started talking. “Hey, sunshine. How are you this morning? I thought I’d check in on you and see how you were faring. You were out cold when I put you to bed last night.” He glanced over at Garrett, who was busy pretending not to listen. “I’m out of town for a few days, but will be back soon. A buddy and I are hanging out in Moab.”

JP ran out of things to say. He hated leaving messages. “Okay, well, I’ll talk to you soon.” He was about to hang up, and then he added quietly, “I’ll be thinking about you, Sonny.”

Ending the call, JP tossed the phone back to Garrett and blew out a breath. Being away from Sonny was a lot tougher than he’d expected it to be. He couldn’t keep from thinking about her, wondering how she was feeling, and wishing he could hold her again like he had last night.

Garrett strode over to the truck and said as he reached inside for some climbing gear. “You’ve got it bad, bra. Your ‘sweet thing’ has a hold on you.”

JP thought back to how Sonny had looked last night when he’d tucked her into her bed, all frizzy-haired and sleep-flushed, and couldn’t stop his smile. “True that. And I am more than okay with it.”

“W
HAT ARE WE
going to do today, Mom?” Charlie asked over breakfast. It had been two days since JP had showed up at her door with chicken soup, and she was feeling much better. Her coloring was back to normal and her energy was restored.

And over those two days she’d thought about JP only about a hundred million times.

A big part of her wanted to be like an ostrich and stick her head in the sand. Wanted to pretend that she didn’t know what was going on with him. She wanted to act like she didn’t know what to make of him and his behavior.

But she wasn’t a kid anymore.

She was a grown woman with a kid of her own, and she prided herself on her ability to be honest with the facts. And it was time to shed some light on those facts and what they all meant. Then Sonny had to decide how she felt about
what
it all meant.

Because the honest truth was that JP was completely, totally for real. Even if he was a famous celebrity.

The other night solidified that fact. Sonny still couldn’t believe that they’d cuddled on the couch watching television. And then he’d carried her to
bed
. Which, by the way, was more proof of just how frigging fit pro athletes were because she was not a lightweight by any shot.

But he’d done it anyway. She had vague memories of him pulling the covers snug around her and kissing her cheek softly. So even though they’d been hot and heavy recently, that’s not what he’d come over for. No, the guy had been sweet and nice and,
pfffft
, well, just absolutely wonderful.

What kind of man brought a sick woman soup and cuddled on the couch with her while she watched chick shows? JP Trudeau, that’s who.

Charlie’s voice pierced her mental ramblings. “Earth to Mom.” He waved a hand in front of her face. “I asked what we’re gonna do today.”

Sonny gave him a quick one-arm squeeze on her way to rinse her plate in the sink. “Sorry, kiddo. Spaced out for a while.” The plate went in the dishwasher and she turned back to Charlie. “I was thinking we could break out from the norm and I’d do this thing called ‘work,’ and then we’d really go crazy after and do this fun activity known as ‘grocery shopping.’”

Charlie tossed back his blond head and exclaimed,
“Noooooo!”
Then he gave her a playful grin, his blue eyes dancing.

“Sorry, Charlie.”

“But, Mom, we
always
do that.” A pout transformed his happy face. “You’re not sick any more. Let’s go do something fun.”

Fun. What was that? She barely remembered. “I need to work, honey. I have curds that I just put into the cheese presses and I need to rotate the Gouda I have aging.”