by Lacey Black
“Do you like baseball, Kate?” Max asks, pulling my attention across the table.
“Oh, uh, I haven’t really followed sports,” I tell him with a sheepish grin.
“I love baseball. I got a ball from my cousin, Sawyer,” he says, producing a baseball covered in a small round case from his lap. “I’m gonna be a ball player, just like him when I get bigger.”
Taking the offered item, I spy a name scrolled between the stitching on the ball. “Who is Sawyer?” I find myself asking as I hand the prized item back to Max.
“He’s married to my cousin, AJ. Sawyer Randall used to play for the Rangers,” Jensen confirms as Max takes a big bite of his pizza.
“Wow, that’s pretty neat,” I reply, mostly to Max. Then I glance at Jensen and add, “I don’t remember cousins.”
Those piercing blue eyes find mine, stealing a bit of my breath and a lot of my sanity. “Actually, we discovered a whole new side of the family we didn’t know about,” Jensen says, and tells me all about how his mom had a much older brother who she rarely saw or spoke to. To find out Jensen has six female cousins, all with families of their own, is a little surprising, but he seems completely happy about the expansion of his family.
“That’s pretty amazing. I’m glad you were able to connect with them,” I tell him, finishing off my second piece of pizza while he talks, completely ignoring the salad that I definitely should have started with. I can still hear my mother’s voice, whispering in my ear, that I should always eat salad. A lady never indulges in carbs, like pizza and pasta. She taught me at such a young age how to move food around on your plate to give the appearance of eaten food, and I hated it. I always craved a big bowl of macaroni and cheese or even a large slice of pizza, even if my hips didn’t agree with it.
“Thank you for inviting me to join you,” I say as I drop my napkin beside my plate and place the remaining two slices back in the pizza box. With those two pieces plus the salad, I can take it back to the house for a meal this weekend.
“You didn’t each much,” Jensen says, glancing down at his demolished half of their pizza.
I shrug. “My appetite isn’t big,” I tell him, which is partially the truth. I’ve never been a big eater, at least not recently. Years of beating ‘small portions’ into my head has trained me to only consume a little bit of food, especially in front of company. But that pizza? My mouth watered as I ate the first two slices, careful not to just shovel it in my face like I used to in high school.
The other part of it is the fact it was a bit nerve-racking eating in front of Jensen again. He’s always had a hearty appetite (comes from manual labor) and never shied away from devouring his food. Even now, sitting next to him with so much left unsaid, leaves a slight flutter in my belly and makes it hard to eat. He’s not intimidating, per se, but mostly just makes me a little uneasy. Like when you’re eating in front of some dignitary. You’re constantly afraid you’ll dribble food down your chin or slurp your soup too loudly. You spend the meal trying to behave to the extreme, focusing completely on being polite and worrying about making sure you don’t have spinach in your teeth.
That’s how it feels to eat with Jensen again.
“Can you come to the park with us tomorrow? We’re going to play baseball and run the bases!” Max grins from across the table, his wide eyes full of wonder and excitement.
“Oh, uh, I’m not sure what I have going on tomorrow,” I answer, knowing that’s a lie. I had planned to tackle the living room tomorrow, complete with airing out the house since the construction workers won’t be there.
Max doesn’t say anything, just nods his head. He looks so much like his dad with his assessing, serious eyes that sparkle like sapphires when he smiles. A pang of longing hits directly in my chest, causing a hitch in my breath.
“Well, I should head home. Thank you, again, for allowing me to join you,” I say, sliding out of the booth and grabbing my purse. I reach for the bill for my to-go pizza and salad, but before I can grasp the slip of paper, Jensen snatches it up and grins victoriously.
“I’ve got it,” he says, taking his own ticket off the table as well.
“No,” I insist. “You don’t have to do that.”
He stands up beside me, my eyes darting upward to meet his. “I want to. What are friends for?” he asks, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
Friends? We haven’t been friends in years, more than a decade, actually. The last time we spoke, it was about post-graduation plans and his summer job. Friends don’t leave in the middle of the night and never return a call. Friends don’t walk away from someone they love without so much as a goodbye.
No, I was the worst friend in the world.
He deserved better.
“Thank you,” I rasp over my too-dry throat, blinking away the threat of tears.
Jensen helps Max out of the booth and heads toward the front counter. He pulls two twenties from his wallet and tells them to keep the change as the tip. Then, with his son’s hand tucked in his, he exits the restaurant, holding the door open for me as we go.
Outside, the air is warm and slightly sticky. There was a touch of humidity coming from the ocean today, something I didn’t miss while in New York. Actually, that may have been the only thing I didn’t miss while I way away.
He stops on the sidewalk, a signal this is goodbye. Part of me doesn’t want tonight to end. Part of me wants to hang on to this olive branch of friendship we’ve extended with both hands, but part of me knows there’s no going back, not when hearts are involved. “Thanks for the pizza,” I say lamely, holding my leftover food tightly in my hand.
“You’re welcome.” His eyes watch every move I make, and I can’t help but wonder if he can still read my thoughts like he so easily did back when we were young.
I glance down at his mini-me and offer him a smile. “Max, it was lovely to meet you,” I say, extending my hand and shaking his much smaller and slightly sticky one.
“Bye, Kate! Come play with us soon!”
I can’t help but smile. It’s a lovely thought, really, but saddening at the same time since I know I’ll probably never play with this little boy. “Thank you for the invite. Enjoy your evening,” I reply. My eyes connect with Jensen’s before I slowly turn and walk away.
“Hey, Kate?” Just the sound of his voice saying my name again does things to my heart.
“Yes?” I ask, turning back around to face him.
He opens his mouth, but quickly closes it. He watches me for a few seconds before finally saying, “I’ll see ya soon.”
Nodding quickly, I turn back around and head to where I left my car, all the while wondering what it was he was going to say. That’s the problem with us, really. So much to say, yet no words are spoken.
As I climb into my car, I can’t help but wonder—when will I see him again? Probably at the house when he comes to work, silly. You did hire him to do a job. But that doesn’t stop the kernel of hope popping to life, the deep-rooted longing starting to bud. At the end of the day, Jensen and I will never have what we had before, but what if we gave that whole friends thing a chance? I mean, I haven’t had a real friend in I don’t know how long. Sure, it may be uncomfortable, but what’s a little awkwardness between former lovers? Maybe, just maybe, I’ll see him and Max again when it’s not work related.
A woman can hope.
Chapter Seven
Jensen
“Ready to go, Buddy?” I ask Max, as I gather up our bag of baseball supplies. Really, it just consists of a tiny glove, a much bigger one for my hand, a small bat, and a few balls. The tee is in the garage and I’ll grab that before we head to the truck.
As I get everything loaded up, including a small cooler with a couple bottles of water and some fruit snacks, my phone rings. I almost ignore it. I hate losing even a few minutes of time with my son, but when I see the number, I know it can’t wait.
“Hey, Pablo. What’s up?”
“Sorry to bother you on a
Sunday, Jensen, but I’m going through your order for tomorrow’s delivery. Are you sure you only need fifty edging stones? From the picture you painted in my head, I would have thought the order would be much bigger than that.”
I know right away that something is wrong. Pablo owns the concrete business the next town over that I use for all of my stone and gravel. “No, that can’t be right. Those edgers are supposed to expand the entire front of the house. No way should it only be fifty,” I reply, rubbing my forehead. I picture the design in my own head, seeing the subtle rise in the retaining wall so that it looks like waves along the shore.
“That’s what I thought. I’ve got plenty in stock, but was hoping you could give me a better picture of how many you’re looking for. I could send a few pallets with Tommy on the truck, but they’ll just be in the way if you really don’t need that many.”
I pull out my clipboard and realize right away something is wrong. Half the sheets are missing, including the finalized design, which includes the list of required materials I sent over to Pablo. I close my eyes, trying to recall the last time I saw it when it hits me.
Kate’s place.
Wes and I had used them Friday to outline the layout in preparation for this upcoming week’s work. The ground is now bare, ready for my favorite part of the job—the build. At the end of the day, I was so busy trying to avoid Kate when she was outside talking to Rhenn about lighting around the landscaping I must have thrown it all in the small job trailer I keep on-site with my tools. The plans have to be there.
“I don’t have them in front of me. Can you give me twenty minutes and I’ll call you back?” I ask Pablo.
“Sure thing. I’ll be here for another hour or two, getting everything lined up for you and everyone else.” Pablo’s business is the go-to place for concrete and landscaping needs. And not just big orders. A lot of locals prefer to patronize his place, rather than drive to the big box store a few towns away.
“I’ll call you back,” I tell him before hanging up and clipping my phone on my belt. “Come on, Max. We’ve gotta make a quick stop by Daddy’s jobsite before we hit the baseball field.”
Lifting him into the truck, I help him get fastened in his car seat, his signed baseball resting on his lap. I throw the truck in reverse, pull out of the driveway, and head toward the Elliott mansion. On a Sunday afternoon. When Kate is probably there. My heart does a happy little beat at the prospect of seeing her today. Ever since I invited her to join us for pizza Friday night, my body has not-so-subtly reminded me of how much she impacts me. Even now, I’m half hard in my shorts at the thought of seeing her.
Pushing all thoughts of Kate and my wayward cock out of my mind, I talk to my son about tonight’s game. The Cubs are visiting the Rangers, and we have a TV date to watch the game. This will be an epic battle for him. Ever since he found out, earlier this summer, Sawyer used to play for the Rangers, the Rangers have been his second favorite team, right behind the Cubs. I try to make it a big deal for him, including making chili dogs and nachos for dinner. He gets a kick out of it, pretending we’re actually sitting in the stadium instead of my ol’ worn couch, but even as excited as he gets, he’ll still be sound asleep by the end of the fourth inning.
I pull up to the house, keying in the temporary code we were all given at the start of this job. “This your work?” Max asks from the back seat of my truck, his eyes wide and eager as I drive up the lane.
“This is where I’m working, Buddy.”
“Can I play in the dirt?” he asks, taking in all the bare soil. My kid is one-hundred-percent me and loves to dig and play as much as I did (and still do).
“We don’t have time today if we want to get to the ball diamond and hit the ball,” I tell him, pulling alongside my small trailer. My plan is to jump out, unlock the door, and find my paperwork. Unfortunately, Max takes it upon himself to unbuckle his belt and climb out of the truck. “We’re not staying, Max. Get back in the truck,” I tell him as I find the right key on my key ring for the lock.
“I wanna see,” he says, coming around to where I stand. He doesn’t say a word as I open the lock and pull open the door. It’s dark inside the trailer, but fortunately, it’s plenty light outside. “Shovels!” he bellows, reaching for the tool on top of the pile.
“Max, let it alone or you’ll hurt yourself.”
“I dig,” he answers, trying to pull the shovel from the trailer.
“I thought we were going to play baseball.”
“I work and play, Daddy,” he says, a huge grin on his face as he drags the shovel outside.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. One thing I’ve learned about kids is they’re like yo-yos in regards to their attention span. One second he’s ready to play baseball, and the next he wants to do something completely different.
When I open my eyes, I glance toward the house. I’m off to the side, my equipment and supplies kept as far away from the impressive front entrance, but still within view. All of the windows are open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. The door is open too and soft music filters through the doorway. Clearly, the owner is home, and the last thing I want is for her to come out and find us in her yard on a Sunday afternoon.
Glancing back over at my son, I find him already digging the tip of the shovel into the raw dirt. There’s a toothy grin on his face as he tries to lift, his small body not strong enough yet to elevate the dirt-filled shovel. He gets such a kick out of moving the earth, something I know all about. My own smile plays on my lips as I watch him drag the shovel, pretending to move big clumps of dirt and clay. In reality, he’s barely digging a hole deep enough to plant a perennial.
“I’m a little surprised to see you here on a Sunday.” The voice comes from behind me, soft and delicate. My body coils tight and my cock jumps to attention, clearly very happy to know she’s near.
Turning around, I come face-to-face with Kate. “Yeah, sorry. I needed to grab some of my paperwork I left in the trailer.” Glancing back over my shoulder to my son, I add, “Max decided to help with the landscaping.”
Her smile is instantaneous and infectious. It lights up the world brighter than the sun and does dangerous things to my heart, like remind me of how much I used to love the feeling I got every time she flashed that grin my way. There was a time where I would do anything to see that smile, give anything she wanted. Now, as I gaze over at the very smile that’s so very familiar, yet slightly different, I can’t help but feel the same way.
And I definitely shouldn’t feel that way.
“Hello, Max,” she says.
“Hi, Kate! I’m digging!” he hollers over his shoulder, not breaking his stride as he moves the shovel.
“Yes, you are, Maximus,” she says, a little giggle slipping from her lips as she watches.
My son stops and turns to face her. “My name’s not Maximus. It’s just Max.”
“Are you sure it’s not Maximilian, Just Max?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot, her pink polish covered toes on full display.
Max busts into a fit of laughter, making both Kate and me laugh right along with him. “It’s not Maximilian, silly. Just. Max.”
“Well, Just Max, I’m so happy you stopped by to help with the landscaping. Don’t tell your boss, but I was a little concerned about that dirt pile right there,” she says, glancing my way with a coy grin. “So thank you for fixing it for me.”
“You bet! I’m a good fixer!” he yells, turning his full attention back to the earth.
I take a step in her direction, instantly assaulted by her familiar scent. “I’m sorry about this. We’ll be out of your way in a few minutes.”
She waves me off. “It’s no problem. The buzzer sounded when you used the code so I knew I had company.”
“I was planning to just get the papers and sneak out without disrupting your Sunday afternoon,” I tell her, keeping an eye on my son and his yard work.
“Really, I don’t mind the interruptio
n. I was neck deep in dust bunnies anyway, but the sitting room and the media room are both cleaned out,” she tells me, a proud smile on her face. “Oh, is there still the resale shop on Main? I have tons of furniture I’d like to donate.”
My eyes connect with hers once more. “Donate? I think that stuff in there is probably worth a little cash. You could probably sell it or something,” I suggest.
“Could you imagine the look on my mother’s face if she knew we had a garage sale here?” she asks, her eyes full of humor and light.
“Oh, she’d shit a brick, for sure,” I reply, immediately regretting my crude use of language.
Kate must sense it, and quickly speaks. “You’re fine. I never minded a little foul language back when we were together.”
Now my heart is hammering in my chest as I recall the first time I said the word fuck in front of her. I instantly felt guilty for cursing in front of a lady, especially someone as wealthy and worldly as Kathryn Elliott, but she didn’t seem to mind. Not in the least. In fact, she threw her arms around me and begged me to say it again, this time, while I was pounding into her sweet pussy.
My face flushes, and when I glance over, I realize hers is too. Clearly, I’m not the only one taking a dirty trip down memory lane.
Clearing my throat, I turn toward my trailer. “I’m going to grab my papers and make a quick call.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on Just Max,” she says, already heading over to where my son is digging in her yard.
I easily find what I’m looking for and dig out my phone. When I have the material list in front of me, I place the call, relaying the correct information to Pablo. He promises he has enough material on-hand, and I’ll see the delivery truck by ten tomorrow. I’m not the first delivery, but I’m close. That means I’ll be able to start really building her yard in less than twenty-four hours.