Single (Stockton Beavers #1) (4 page)

Chapter Four

Roberta

I pull my rental car to a stop and double-check the address Landry gave me—44 Cedar Crest Lane.

I glance nervously at the front window. There's a flickering glow coming from inside. The TV's on, so I'm assuming he's home. But it feels weird to be doing this. After Luke rushed out of his office, Landry insisted I deliver the tickets in person. He could plainly see that Luke was spooked, and he didn't want him backing out at the last minute.

Landry has nothing but good intentions when it comes to reviving Luke's career. He's more than capable of handling the Heimlichs on his own, and he'd never exploit one of his players in order to do it. In fact, he'd exploit himself before he'd ever sacrifice one of them. That's why he's here in Stockton for opening day, to draw fans to the ballpark. I just didn't know what else to do to make Luke stay. And guilt always tends to be a powerful motivator. That's why I'm here, sitting outside his house.

I rest my head against the steering wheel and look out. It's a nice neighborhood, tree-lined streets, older yet well-cared for homes. But it's not somewhere I'd picture a young guy like him to be living. The atmosphere screams swing sets and school buses, not all-night poker games with the boys.

I stare up the stone walkway to the flowered wreath hanging on the door and the white lace curtains adorning every window. Way too many feminine touches for a bachelor pad—which means he has to be living here with his girlfriend. It's not the kind of place he could afford on his own. Most players are forced to double or triple up just to lease a condominium for the season. His girlfriend must have a pretty decent job here in Stockton if they're shacking up in a big house like this… It's the only explanation that makes any sense.

And one that has me none too eager to get out and knock on the door… It's bad enough having to face him, let alone having to explain to his girlfriend who I am and what I'm doing here. For some stupid reason, it hurts to see that some girl—
some girl I don't even know
—is living the life I never got to live—a secure, happy life with a man whose career is anything but stable.

The sun's already starting to set, and unless I plan on finding my way back to the Sheraton in the dark, I need to quit stalling and get this over with. I'm not so good at following a GPS and having to drive on streets I don't know. It makes me nervous…and I'm already nervous.

I fluff my curls and step out of the car. I half expect someone to peer out of the window when I slam the door, but no one does. Clutching the ticket envelope in my hand, I square my shoulders and march purposefully up the sidewalk, when I come across a child's handprints, captured in the cement.

I've memorized his bio inside and out, and nowhere, in any interview or profile, was a kid ever mentioned.
But
, I remind myself, he's been out of the game for months now, and once that happens, a player's online presence isn't necessarily updated with the most current information, especially when it comes to his personal life.
What if, in the meantime, he
…?

No
. I refuse to believe it. I stride past the tiny set of hands and onto the porch. Luke can't be a new father.
He can't be
. My mind's spinning. It's too much to comprehend. No wonder he showed up today even though he was scared, that manly urge to provide for his family coming through loud and clear, his pride hurt at not being able to be the breadwinner anymore.

And it eats me up inside now that I'm aware of just how much he's suffered on account of David, more than I ever imagined.

With my hand shaking, I reach up and press the doorbell. And almost immediately, footsteps come running toward me. "After I told them specifically
not
to ring the…" I hear Luke grumble from inside the house. "I just got her to sleep…"

Okay, who's he talking about
? My heart lurches.
His daughter
?

I hastily take a step back. Yeah, I don't want to see him give up his career because of what David did to him—but the last thing I'm capable of doing right now is cooing over his little baby girl.

I already have one foot on the sidewalk when the light from the open doorway shines across my path. "I'm sorry, how much was the total, again?"

I halt with my back to him when his footsteps follow me onto the porch. He lowers his voice to a whisper, "All I have is a twenty but…" He stops. "Roberta…? Is that you?"

I cringe with my hand clutching the railing.
Great
. Now, I have no choice but to turn around and face him. I force myself to smile and offer him a helpless shrug. "Busted."

But he, in no way, seems happy to see me when he hustles back to the door and quickly shuts it behind him before confronting me. "What are you doing here?"

I shove the envelope toward him. "Just dropping off your tickets."

But he doesn't take it from me. Instead, he just stares at it. "You didn't have to do that."

I climb up the bottom step. "It's okay. I'm going to have to familiarize myself with the streets of Stockton eventually."

"So you and Landry are moving here?" he asks.

"No, just me."

And for a minute, he seems stunned. "Why?"

Before Landry approached the Heimlichs about buying the team, I helped him learn everything there was to know about Stockton. And while researching it online, it didn't take me long to realize it fit the three criteria I was looking for—a town that's small, quiet, and safe. Unlike what I led Landry to believe, I didn't come here to start over. Oh, no, I left the ranch in order to protect him, to protect his kids. It hurt my heart to have to leave Texas right when I felt like I had become a part of their family. But I didn't have a choice. There were circumstances beyond my control that forced me to go off the grid for a while. Blend in. Disappear. I chose Stockton because no one would ever find me here. But I can't exactly tell Luke that. Who I'm hiding from…that's something he can
never
find out.

"Stockton's as good a place as any," I shoot back.

He takes a seat on the top step and lets his hands dangle between his knees. "So you have a job, then? A place to stay?"

I purse my lips together. "Not exactly."

He nods slowly, bending his head to rub the side of his neck. I try not to stare, but he's running his fingers right over the area where he got hit.
Is he in pain? Is he
…?

He glances up at me, pinning me with his gaze. "You wouldn't happen to be looking to find work as a personal care aide?"

He knows about me… What am I saying? Of course, he knows about me
. All the players know who I am. And I can just imagine what they've been saying about me in the clubhouse after they saw me out in the pen with Landry. And I feel terribly uncomfortable all of a sudden, knowing that Luke's heard all the tawdry gossip about me, half of which isn't even true.

"Yeah, well. It's what I do best." I take another step up and toss the envelope onto the porch beside him. "It was nice seeing you again. Good luck in the game tomorrow."

"Hey, don't go," he says, picking up the envelope and tapping it against his knee. "Listen, I ordered pizza. Why don't you stay and have a slice?"

I haven't eaten yet, and his offer does sound tempting. But do I really feel like intruding on the family dinner hour?

"Uh, I don't think so." I give him a tight smile. "It's getting late. I really should be getting back to the hotel."

"Don't be silly." He places his hand behind his head and slowly shifts it from side to side, and my eyes are drawn to the bandage on his elbow. "The Sheraton isn't exactly known for its food." He brings his head level again. "That is where you're staying, isn't it? The Sheraton?"

I eye him warily. "Yeah."

He chuckles. "Hey, don't look at me like that. It's just the only decent hotel there is downtown. It's where they book all the visiting teams." He scrunches up his brow. "I'm sure the Jacksonville Jackalopes are all checked in for the night. So beware if you decide to venture into the bar."

"Thanks, but I don't plan on going anywhere near the bar."

He smiles at me.
Does this guy ever stop smiling
?

"Well, that's probably going to be the only place within walking distance that'll be open when you get back. Stockton's not exactly hoppin' on a weeknight."

So those are my choices? Endure an awkward meal with one young ballplayer and his family or walk into a bar by myself and get hit on by a whole drunken team of them? Still, as far as I'm concerned, Luke's impromptu pizza party is the far more dangerous option.

I'm just about to refuse his offer of hospitality when a beat-up old Honda squeals to the curb, a Russo's Pizza light affixed crookedly to the top of the roof.

Luke stands and rubs his stomach. "Hmmm, I've been waiting for this all day. If you're ever gonna be a true Stocktonite, remember one thing: Russo's is the best." He nudges my arm while hustling past me down the steps. "C'mon, stay. Who doesn't love pepperoni?"

The driver hops out of the car and starts removing a large pizza box from one of the warming cases. "Don't worry, Single, my man. I wasn't gonna ring the bell. No need to stand guard outside
Casa Singleton
."

Luke digs into his pocket and hands him the twenty. "Thanks, Billy. My kitchen's getting remodeled…so you'll probably be hearing from me a lot this week."

Billy throws a quick glance at me. "But, dude, who's that?"

Luke takes the box from him. "Just a friend."

Like I haven't heard that line uttered by a lying, cheating baseball player before. If Luke's girlfriend doesn't come out here soon—or worse yet, I'm starting to think she's not even home—the last thing I want is for tongues to start wagging all over Stockton.
God, I didn't even want to cross paths with Luke Singleton once I found out he was on the Beavers, and now he wants us to have dinner together
?

Luke is already heading back toward the house when Billy calls out, "Hey, do you want your change?"

Luke smiles but just keeps walking. "Do I ever?"

"Thanks, Single!" He kisses the bill in his hand. "My money's on you and the Beavers tomorrow!" he says, jumping back behind the wheel.

Luke groans, "Billy, please don't go betting on sports again, not with those bookies down at the—"

But Billy's not even listening. Instead, he guns the engine and tears off into the night—causing Luke to stop and stare up at one of the second-floor windows, just as a light turns on.

He hurries onto the porch and shoves the pizza box into my hands.

I stare at him quizzically. "What's wrong?"

But all he does is hold a finger to his lips, his hand already on the doorknob.

"Fine, if you don't want your girlfriend to know I'm out here, then I'm just gonna have to let her know myself!"

"Girlfriend? What…? I don't have a girlfriend," he whispers, stepping back inside. "Just sit tight for a minute. I'll be right back."

But I jam the pizza box through the door. "Like hell, I will. Where is she?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't even try to deny it. I heard you. You said, 'I just got
her
to sleep.'"

He stands there, stricken, and I take the opportunity to push past him and into the house.

But I don't get very far when he steps in front of me, blocking my view. "I'm sorry, but you can't come in."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, because the kitchen's being
remodeled
, right?"

I'm in the middle of jabbing him in the chest with the pizza box when I nearly drop it on the floor.

"
Luuuuukey? Where's my little Lukey
?"

"Coming!" he shouts, before pleading with me with his eyes. "You have to leave now."

"Luke, who was that?"

The voice was definitely childlike, yet it had a gravelly quality to it, similar to that of a smoker. In fact, the whole house smells like smoke. I squint, my eyes riveted to the top of the stairs, but it's too dark to make anything out. All I see are moving shadows, coming from up above.

"Please," he begs. "The pizza's all yours. My treat. But you really have to go."

"But what are you going to eat?" I protest, still trying to catch a glimpse of who's up there as he backs me toward the door. "You said your kitchen—"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"Lukey, quick!" There's a soft moaning sound that's soon accompanied by a pitiful sob. "I think…I think…I wet the bed again…"

"Ma, I'll be right there!"

Luke's eyes widen, realizing his mistake, just as my foot drops down onto the porch.

"Luke!" I gasp. "Is that
your mother
up there?"

His face goes stark white.

"Luke, is it?"

He still doesn't answer me. But he's forgetting that as a caregiver, my one and only concern is for someone's well-being. That always comes first—it has to. But at the same time, all I want to do is wrap him in my arms, give him a big hug, and tell him everything's going to be okay.

"What's wrong with her?" I whisper gently, pleading with him to open up to me.

He hesitates, his eyes reflecting so much pain.

So I try again, keeping my voice light. "Is it dementia or…?"

However, it's clear it's something he doesn't want to talk about, at least not with me, when he lowers his head and flexes his jaw.

I understand why he doesn't trust me. I'm a virtual stranger to him. But this is too important. I can't just let it go.
Think, Bobbie Jo
. What can I do to ease his fears? How can I help him understand where I'm coming from? I'm not trying to pry into his personal life. I'm only doing it because I care.

"It's okay, Luke. I'm not judging you," I begin, attempting to put him at ease. "But I need to know, is she receiving the proper care? Do you have someone who comes in and helps you with her?" I pause, staring down at his bent head, when a horrible thought runs through my mind. "Please tell me you're not trying to do this all on your own."

He finally looks up, giving me such a beseeching look.

"Oh my God, you are, aren't you?" I utter before I can stop myself, my heart stuck in my throat, and he turns away. "Luke, please listen to me. I've worked on a ward with Alzheimer's and dementia patients before. I know how hard it can be, even with a fully trained staff. I can't imagine how you've been doing it all by yourself. You can't.
No one can
." When he still doesn't respond, I'm forced to drive my point home, needing him to face facts. "Luke, she's only going to get worse, and then what are you going to do?"