Rachel Laine (The Women of Merryton Book 3)

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

by Peel, Jennifer


  “I’m thankful I have a few more years until we hit that point.”

  “By the way, Cheyenne heard that Andrew Turner visited your office and she’s back on that train now, so be prepared for her to accost you for information.”

  I could feel my parents stiffen at the mention of Andrew’s name. I tried my best to remain unaffected by it. “I don’t have anything to report.” Other than he is my son’s father.

  Taylor laughed. “Well, you know Cheyenne. She’s determined to get her man.”

  I laughed uneasily and changed the subject. “How’s Gage doing?”

  Taylor’s laughter turned to thoughtfulness. “I think he’s doing well. He’s been through a lot in his young life, but I think he’s starting to trust us. And we’re all getting used to having a boy in the house. He’s a lot different than the girls—not in a bad way, just different. I think Easton appreciates not being so outnumbered and having someone to watch sports with.”

  “Your family is doing a good thing,” my mom complimented Taylor.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think Gage is doing more good for us than we are for him. He’s a reminder of how blessed we’ve been. He only wants to love and be loved. We’ve enjoyed being on the receiving and giving end of that.”

  “Well, you’re good people in my book,” my dad said.

  “We feel the same about you,” Taylor responded.

  “How’s that little girl you’re growing?” I asked.

  She rubbed what I considered to be a tiny baby bump, but ask her and she would call it a beach ball. “Perfect. Keeping her mom up late at night with her gymnastics routines and heartburn.”

  My parents and I laughed with her.

  “Oh, look. Our boys are taking the field,” I alerted everyone.

  Drew walked out onto the field with his coach for the coin toss. Drew called heads and won. I could see his grin from the stands. Gosh, I loved that kid.

  The Colts ended up on the 30-yard line after the kick-off. As both teams lined up, my first thought was that the Raiders should have been called the Giants. I wanted to see some birth certificates. Holy cow. But as we made our way through the first quarter, I realized their size was almost a hindrance. Our team was quick and nimble and Drew was smart and a quick thinker. By the end of the quarter, we were up 14–0. I was feeling great until the second quarter, when one of those oafs slammed my baby into the ground. I jumped up fast, but I restrained myself from running onto the field. I had done that before, and Drew had said it was super embarrassing. The coaches promised me if I was needed out there, they would call me down. I also had to hold my tongue. I had a tendency to get riled up at sporting events. I wasn’t sure why—normally I was a pretty calm person—but something came out in me when my teams were playing, and especially when it was my son playing.

  I held my hand to my heart as I watched Easton check out my son on the field. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Taylor turned around and held my hand, along with my parents. It wasn’t too long before Easton helped Drew stand and I got a thumbs-up. Our side cheered and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was moments like those that made me question why I allowed him to play.

  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.

  Chapter Five

  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.

 

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