Rachel Laine (The Women of Merryton Book 3) (4 page)

I
sat back down and both of my parents hugged me.

At
halftime, we were up 21–7. I ran down to the field to see if water bottles
needed to be refilled. They probably didn’t—it was only forty-five degrees outside
and the boys didn’t drink very much when it wasn’t warm—but it gave me a good
excuse to check on my son.

 “Mom!
Did you see that amazing pass I got off before I was tackled?”

 We
fist-bumped in appreciation. I wasn’t allowed to hug or kiss him on the field.
That was his rule.

I
was making my way back up to the stands when my phone rang. It was my new best
friend. Not. I paused before I made it to the stands. “Hello?”

“Hey,
I don’t want you to be mad, but I’m here.”

“What!
Where? Why?”

“So
you’re mad?”

“I
thought we agreed last night that this wasn’t a good idea.”

“I
couldn’t help myself. But don’t worry—no one knows I’m here. I’m in the empty
box next to the announcer’s stand.” I looked up that way and he briefly showed
his stupid self. I prayed no one saw him.

“Andrew,”
I whispered, “I don’t care that you are his father, you’re crossing boundaries
that I’m not okay with right now.”

“I’m
sorry, Rachel Laine. I just … I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel
connected to him. I know I should have asked you first. I don’t want to overstep
my bounds.”

I
sighed. On some level I could understand that connection, but I wished it
wasn’t so.

“He’s
doing a great job out there, and you are, too.”

“What
do mean?”

“You
did the right thing, staying in the stands when he got sacked.”

“Yeah,
well, I haven’t always had such restraint.”

He
laughed. “Anyway, I really am sorry. Can I come over later?”

“You’re
pushing it, you know.”

“I
know. So can I?”

“If
I say no, will you show up anyway?”

“There’s
a good chance of that.”

“We
always have lunch with my parents afterward, so I suppose you can come over
after that. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

“Thanks,
Rachel Laine.”

“Yeah,
yeah.”

I
heard him laugh as I hung up. I’m glad he found humor in it all. For me, he was
becoming a nuisance of massive proportions.

Lunch
at Jessie Belle’s café with my parents was interesting. They both were overly
doting on Drew. I knew he thought it was because he was so amazing and his team
beat the Raiders 35–14, but I knew otherwise. Despite my dad’s earlier
insistence that there was nothing to worry about, they knew Andrew was a game
changer. And by his behavior the last couple of days, I knew he wasn’t going
anywhere anytime soon. The only question was how Drew was going to take it when
he found out.

I
wanted to linger at Jessie Belle’s, but Jessie, the owner and one of my dearest
friends, wasn’t around. I was sure she was at home enjoying her family. She
rarely came in to the café anymore, so I didn’t have an excuse to stay. And Drew
didn’t have the patience to sit at a restaurant all afternoon.

I
took my time driving home even though my car smelled like a boy who really
needed a shower, but I was trying to prolong the inevitable. It was all for naught—my
olfactory senses suffered abuse for no reason. The nuisance was already at our
home waiting in his Yukon. It seemed odd to me that a single man would drive
such a large vehicle, but I guess it looked masculine.

Drew
ran out of the car when he recognized who was there. My heart almost broke when
I saw him run to Andrew and high-five him.

“You
should have seen me today! I got tackled, but still got off this awesome pass.
I kept picturing the Raiders in their underwear. And we creamed them, 35–14.”
Drew hardly took a breath as he recapped a game Andrew had already seen.

Andrew
didn’t let on that he had been there and saw the whole thing; he was as excited
to relive the game as Drew. I guess this was what they called male bonding, and
as the lone female, I was left out in the cold, literally. It was like I
couldn’t move as I stood by my car door and watched the scene in front of me.
Father and son together.

My
need for heat brought me out of my stupor. I opened the hatch to the back of my
car to retrieve all of our game gear. As soon as Andrew noticed my full arms,
he stopped the play by play. “Let’s help your mom.” They both emptied my hands
before we all went into the warmth of the house.

“Hey,
I’m sorry I didn’t wait for your text,” were the first words out of his mouth
to me. “I finished up what I had to do early, and I had nowhere else to be. And
I knew you wouldn’t mind.” His smile said he was trying to be charming, but I
wasn’t falling for it.

I
smirked instead of telling him off like I wanted to because Drew was an innocent
bystander. That made him grin wider.

He
set my cooler down and turned toward the front door. “I’ll be right back.”

I
turned to my son. “Time to hit the showers, bud. And don’t forget to throw your
dirty laundry down the chute so it can go through detox.”

“But
Andrew’s here.”

“Yes,
and I bet he would like it if you smelled better, too.”

“Oh,
fine.” He trudged up the stairs.

“Make
sure to use soap,” I called up.

“I
know, Mom.”

“I
love you infinity.”

“I
love you infinity plus one,” he yelled down.

Andrew
came back in with several bags.

I
was not expecting that. “What’s all this?”

“I
thought I could make dinner for all of us tonight.”

“You’re
planning on staying that long?”

“Yes,”
he said, like it should have been obvious.

“We
could have plans, you know.”

“You
said you didn’t date, which I still find hard to believe—”

“What
does dating have to do with plans?”

He
moved forward with confidence. “So, do you have plans?”

I
sighed. “Does painting your nails count?” I wished it was girl’s night, but I
knew Taylor and Jessie were busy. I guess I could call Cheyenne and Abby, but
Andrew would probably still find a way to stay. And besides, I was avoiding talking
to Cheyenne. I didn’t need Andrew having more incentive to be in town.

“You
can paint your nails while I make dinner.” Without my approval, he walked his
bags over to
my
kitchen.

I
shook my head and followed him. Why was I letting this virtual stranger—who shared
DNA with my son—take over my life? I internally sighed and thought of my son.
He was why. I was trying to play this smart.

He
began unloading his bags. “Where’s Drew?”

“I
hope he’s in the shower. Using soap.” I took a deep breath. “Since we have a
few minutes alone, I want to talk to you.”

He
placed a bag of peppers down on the counter and looked my way.

“I
told my parents about you this morning.”

His
eyes widened. “Why?”

“Andrew,
I don’t like keeping secrets, and the only reason I haven’t told Drew yet is
because I’m not sure what kind of a person you are, or if you are sincere about
really wanting to be part of his life. Besides that, Drew was excited to tell
my dad that you had come over. And like you, I didn’t want my parents to take
that the wrong way, if you get my drift.”

His
face broke out in a crooked grin. “Yes, it would be awful if someone actually
thought I was here for you instead of your son.”

“I’m
being serious here.”

“So
am I.” He was so arrogant. “But, seriously, what did they say?”

“Well,
let’s just say the word hate would be a vast understatement.”

His
shoulders and happy demeanor both dropped. “Rachel Laine, I hope that I can
prove to you and your parents that I’m a good guy, but I’m going to need you to
be patient with me right now.”

“What
does that mean?”

He
didn’t get to elaborate. Drew came bounding down the stairs. Andrew and I both
turned our attention to him.

“Hey,
bud.” My voice was high and tight.

“You
don’t have to ask, I used soap.”

Andrew
laughed.

I
turned my attention back to all the food and supplies Andrew was taking out of
the bags. “What are you making for dinner?”

“You’re
staying for dinner again?” Drew asked Andrew.

“Is
that okay?”

Why
didn’t he ask me if
I
was okay with it?

“That
would be cool,” Drew responded.

Andrew’s
eyes lit up. “Do you have wood for your fireplace?” Andrew asked me.

“I
do live in the mountains.”

“Perfect.
I thought we could roast kabobs, but I also brought hotdogs just in case.”

“I
love hotdogs!” Drew shouted.

After
we finished putting up all of the groceries, Andrew turned his attention to Drew.
“There’re still a few hours until dinner. Do you want to toss a ball around in
the backyard? Maybe do some batting practice?”

 It
was apparent he was trying to play catch up on all of his fatherly duties. Drew
thought it was a great idea. He thought it was even better when Andrew gave him
a brand new baseball mitt. He was laying it on thick.

I
wasn’t comfortable leaving Drew alone with him, so I watched them from the deck
with Jake by my side. But I had to say after watching them for a bit, Andrew
was very good with him. He let Drew talk about his game and showed sincere
interest in what he had to say. He also gave praise when it was due, and he was
patient when teaching Drew how to throw different types of pitches. Drew seemed
to be a natural. I had a sinking feeling I would be signing him up for baseball
come spring if this kept up. I could see the pride in Andrew’s eyes. I only hoped
Drew wasn’t a toy for him that he would get tired of playing with after awhile.

After
an hour, Andrew looked up my way. “I think your mom should have a turn at bat. What
do you think?” he asked Drew.

Drew
smiled up at me with that big, toothless grin. “Yes!”

Since
Drew thought that was a great idea, how could I refuse? Besides, maybe I could
accidentally hit Andrew with the bat.

I
made my way down the steps to a mischievously grinning Andrew as he held the
bat toward me. I took it and he squatted down in a catcher’s stance while I
took my place at the makeshift base.

I
tapped the bat a couple of times on the ground, took my own stance, and held
the bat up. “All right, kiddo, show me what you got.”

Drew
grinned, wound back, and let the ball go. I swung and missed, which delighted
Drew to no end. It was even better for him when I missed the second time.

Before
he was ready to strike me out, Andrew stood up. “Your mom needs some help.”

I
scowled at Andrew. “Pardon me?”

“Your
stance is completely wrong, and the way you’re holding the bat, you’ll never
hit anything.”

“I
didn’t know this was Major League training.”

He
moved closer, stood behind me, and gently grabbed my shoulders. I tensed up at
the touch. He chuckled. “Just relax.”

I
tried to as he pushed on my left shoulder.

“You
need to keep your front shoulder closed and relax your elbow.” He slid his hand
down my jacketed arm. I noticed his strong hands. “Now spread your feet
shoulder length apart and keep that front foot closed, and spread your weight
on both feet.”

I
did as he said. My palms began to sweat and I felt an uptick in my heartrate.

“Good,
now bring up the bat.” He laughed again when I tensed. “You need to relax.” He
touched my shoulders before placing his hand around my waist.

I
looked at him like,
what do you think you’re doing?

He
flashed his pearly whites. “You’re whole upper body is tense; you need to
loosen up.”

“You
touching me isn’t helping.”

He
didn’t care. He reached all the way around me from behind with both arms and showed
me where to hold the bat and how to swing. To say I felt uncomfortable was a
vast understatement. A man hadn’t touched me this much in years. I couldn’t say
it was all bad.

After
swinging the bat a couple of times with his assistance, I glowered at him. “I
think I got it.”

“Don’t
take this the wrong way, but you smell amazing,” he whispered in my ear before
releasing me. I involuntarily shivered. He backed off and retook his catcher
position.

I
didn’t respond to his compliment, but I did picture his head as the ball when
Drew sailed it my way. And what do you know? I hit a line drive straight past
Drew.

“All
right, Mom!” Drew shouted.

I
bowed for him and handed the bat back to a puzzled Andrew. “What? You didn’t
think I could actually hit the ball?”

He
shook his head like he was coming out of deep thought and grinned. “Under my
tutelage, I had no doubt.”

I
rolled my eyes at him and turned to my son. “Are you ready for some hot
chocolate?” I knew I was.

“With
whip cream?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

Drew
jetted into the house. Andrew and I followed. We spent a cozy afternoon
drinking hot chocolate in front of the fireplace and playing monopoly. I
observed Andrew with Drew all afternoon, whether it was when he volunteered to
have the both of them bring in more firewood, or how he had a knack for getting
Drew to laugh. If the circumstances had been different, I think I would have
enjoyed his company, but my mind swung from being a tad jealous to being
suspicious of his motives.

When
five o’clock rolled around, we set the game aside.

Andrew
rubbed his masculine hands together. “Time for dinner. Do you want to help me,
Drew?”

Drew
stood up and high-fived him. “Yeah.”

I
think Andrew could have said, “Let’s lick the floor,” and he would have agreed in
a second.

I
got up to help, too, but Andrew smiled over at me. “I think you are supposed to
be painting your nails. We’ve got it under control.”

I
stared at him blankly. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself—I wasn’t used to
being taken care of that way.

“Seriously,
paint your nails and relax. Drew and I have it covered.” They high-fived again like
they were the best of friends.

Drew’s
face shone and my heart hiccupped a little. I tried to remind myself I was his
mother and he loved me, but watching him with his father was a little painful. I
knew there were kids all over the world that had both a mom and a dad and
that’s the way it normally was, but this wasn’t a normal situation for us.

I
did end up painting my toenails and fingernails—in the great room, so I could
keep an eye on my son. I was the overprotective sort. I caught Andrew staring
at me several times. Each time I caught him, he smiled at me.

It
was all going well until he asked my eight-year-old if he wanted to chop the
meat or the vegetables with my very sharp knives. That got my attention real
quick, but I didn’t have to say anything right away. I had raised a mostly
obedient son.