“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Fine.”
But he went silent again for the rest of the ride downtown—so silent that I knew intuitively something was wrong. We parked along Main Street and hurried down the block, thunder rumbling softly over our heads. Tyler opened the pastry shop door for me just as the first fat, heavy raindrops were starting to splat on the sidewalk.
Coffee Darling was always busy in the morning, but we snagged a table for two toward the back. The server came over right away and asked us what we’d like to drink. Caitlan, her name tag read.
“Coffee please,” I said. “With cream.”
“Sure thing. And for you?” she asked Tyler.
“Coffee. Black.”
“You got it.”
“Hey, is Frannie here this morning?” I asked her.
Caitlan nodded. “She’s in the back.”
“Can you tell her that her sister April is here, and to come say hello if she gets a moment?”
“Of course. Be right back with your coffee. The menu is on the chalkboard behind the counter.”
“Thanks.”
As soon as we were alone, I sat back and looked at Tyler. “So what’s on your mind?” I asked. “And don’t say nothing or I’m going to personally go out and buy you a kitten.”
He gave me a barely-there smile. “Sorry. That picture of Mack and his kids reminded me of something.”
“What?”
“Sadie and Josh asked me to be their baby’s godfather the other night.”
“Really?” I sat up taller. “That’s so exciting, Tyler!”
“I said yes, but I didn’t want to.”
“Why not? I think you’ll be an awesome godfather! You’ll love being an uncle, I promise. Being an aunt is so much fun. And I’m actually my niece Whitney’s godmother. It’s a really cool relationship.”
“But it’s a lot of responsibility too. If something were to happen to Sadie and Josh—”
“Don’t even think about it like that,” I said quickly. “No point in stressing out about things you can’t control. Focus on the good part. Your sister trusts you with the most precious thing in her world—the life of her child. That’s an incredible honor.”
“But what if I’m not qualified? What if I, like, drop it? Or leave it somewhere? Or screw it up somehow?”
“Screw it up how?”
“I don’t know—that’s the point. But if I can screw up baseball, I can screw up a kid.”
I laughed. “You’ll be fine. I have faith in you.”
Caitlan appeared, setting down two cups of coffee and a tiny pitcher of cream. “Now what can I bring you to eat? Frannie is just putting something in the oven and then she’ll be right out.”
“Great,” I said. “I haven’t even looked at the menu, but I’ll just have a cinnamon roll. They’re my favorite.”
“Mine too.” Caitlan looked at Tyler. “And for you?”
He was squinting at the chalkboard menu. “I’ll try the farmer’s omelette.”
“Greens or potatoes?”
“Potatoes, please. And a side of bacon. Oh, and some toast.”
“White or wheat?”
“Wheat.”
“Coming right up.”
When she was gone, I laughed as I poured cream into my coffee. “I forgot about your appetite. My God, you used to eat so much when you’d come home after a game. Like an entire pot of spaghetti.”
“That was your fault. You made good spaghetti sauce.”
“In those days, I could make two things reliably—spaghetti and chicken parmesan casserole.”
“Oh yeah, I remember that.” Tyler picked up his coffee. “I used to eat it for breakfast the next day.”
“What? Ew!”
He shrugged. “I liked it.”
I sipped my coffee. “Do you cook?”
“The only thing I can make reliably in the kitchen is a mess. Yet another reason why my sister should think twice about putting me in charge of her kid. The poor thing would probably starve.”
“Hey, you guys!” Frannie called, making her way toward our table.
“Hey, Frannie.” Setting my cup down, I stood up and gave her a hug before gesturing across the table. “Do you remember Sadie’s brother, Tyler Shaw? Tyler, this is my youngest sister, Frannie.”
Tyler rose to his feet and extended his hand. “Nice to see you again.”
“Nice to see you too.” Frannie beamed at him. “My husband Mack played baseball with you in high school, and he’s always talking about how good that team was.”
“We were pretty damn good,” Tyler said with a shrug.
“You should come by while you’re in town if you can. But don’t be surprised if he drags you outside to play catch or something.” Frannie rolled her eyes. “None of his girls are too into sports and he’s always begging for someone to go with him to games or toss a ball around in the yard or even just watch the playoffs on TV.” She giggled. “One time, before we were married, they said they would watch with him as long as he’d let them paint his nails.”
I laughed. “And did he?”
“Totally,” she said gleefully. “Then they pretended they didn’t have any remover, and he had to go to the store to buy some with hot pink fingernails.”
Tyler looked at me but gestured at Frannie. “Did you hear that? This is why I don’t want kids.”
Frannie grinned. “They’re really not that bad. I should get back to work. You guys enjoy breakfast. Nice seeing you, Tyler.”
“You too,” he said, taking his seat.
“Call me later, April.”
I said I would and sat down, but we’d barely started to eat when my phone started blowing up with texts. I glanced at the screen to make sure there wasn’t some kind of emergency at work and saw they were all from Frannie.
OMG!!!!
He’s SO HOT.
Is this a date?
I’m dying.
Call me ASAP!!!!
Shaking my head, I dropped my phone back into my bag.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing. My sister is ridiculous.”
“So is mine. Did I tell you that in addition to believing I am a responsible adult, she’s insisting I dance with her at this wedding?”
I smiled and licked some icing from my finger. “You don’t like dancing?”
He gave me his grumpy old man face. “No.”
“Well, the father-daughter dance is a tradition,” I said gently. “You’re playing that role for her. And it’s two minutes—three at the most. You can get through one song for her, right?”
He stabbed a potato with his fork and stuck it in his mouth.
“Right?” I repeated forcefully.
“She wants me to pick the song,” he complained. “I don’t know any songs that would be right for that.”
“I’ll help you.”
“Everyone will be watching me.”
“Everyone watched you for years on the field and it never bothered you. In fact, I am pretty sure you enjoyed it.”
“That’s different.” He picked up his coffee and took a drink. “I was good at baseball. I have never been good at dancing.”
I tore off a doughy piece of cinnamon roll and popped it into my mouth. “Will it make you feel better if I show you a few simple moves to show her off so no one focuses on you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I can teach you a few easy, partnered dance steps so you feel like you know what you’re doing. I’ve done it for brides and grooms before.”
He looked confused. “Like, twirls and shit?”
Laughing, I took another bite. “Something like that.”
“Excuse me,” said a scratchy voice to my right.
I looked up to see an elderly man standing to the side of our table. He looked like he might be in his eighties or close to it—his posture was stooped, his belly was round, he needed suspenders to hold up his pants, and he wore thi
ck glasses. His ears looked too big for his head, on which he wore a bright red ball cap. Tufts of white hair stuck out beneath it.
“Coach?” Tyler blinked at the old timer.
“Is that you, Shaw?”
“It’s me.”
“I thought so. But my wife says I can’t see shit, so I wasn’t sure. Came to take a closer look.”
Tyler laughed as he rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Good to see you, Coach.”
The old guy shook it but pulled him in for a hug too. Whacked his back a few times. “Good to see you too, son. You playing any ball?”
“Nah, I’m retired.”
“Where you hanging your hat these days?”
“I’m still in San Diego,” answered Tyler. “Just in town for my sister’s wedding.” He nodded at me. “This is April Sawyer. April, this is Virgil Dean, one of my old coaches.”
“His favorite one,” added Virgil.
Smiling, I stood and offered my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Dean.”
He took my hand, and I noticed how his trembled. “Nice to meet you too,” he said. Then he looked at Tyler. “This your wife?”
Tyler shook his head, and we exchanged an amused glance. “No, just a friend.”
“I was gonna ask how you got someone like her. She’s too good-looking for you.” Virgil winked at me.
“She is,” Tyler agreed, folding his arms over his chest. “So how’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know. Got some back pain. Some blood pressure trouble. Had one knee and both hips replaced. Can’t see shit—my wife is right—but I don’t hear too well either, so mostly I can ignore her carping at me.” He shrugged. “I’m still walking around, so I guess that’s good.”
“Are you still coaching?”
“Not too much. I get out there every now and again and help my son David over at the high school—he’s the head coach at Central now—but mostly, I try to stay out of the way. He doesn’t like his old man to interfere too much.”
“He’d be lucky to have you interfere.” Tyler nodded toward his old coach and spoke to me. “You’re looking at the man responsible for my fastball. Taught me everything I know.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows. “I’m impressed. People are still talking about that fastball around here.”
“Hell of a pitch.” Virgil nodded proudly, then looked at Tyler. “Hell of an athlete. Say, you’re not sticking around here for any length of time, are you? They think I’m an old fart over at the school, but they could use a good pitching coach. The last one didn’t know his ass from his elbow.”
Tyler shook his head. “Nah, I’m leaving Sunday.”
“Why so soon?”
He shrugged. “I gotta get back.”
“Thought you said you retired.”
“I did, but—”
“So stay a while. What else you got going?”
Tyler paused. “Maybe you haven’t heard, but baseball just isn’t my thing anymore, Coach. I lost my arm.”
“Bullshit. Baseball isn’t here, son”—Virgil tapped Tyler’s shoulder—“it’s here.” He thumped a gnarled fingertip on Tyler’s chest. “And here.” He tapped his head.
Tyler pressed his lips together. “I’ll think about it.”
His former coach lifted off his red cap, scratched the back of his head, studied Tyler with a shrewd eye, and looked at me as he replaced it. “See if you can get this guy to stay a while, get over to the high school. The kids could use his knowledge.”
I smiled. “I’ll try.”
“All right, I guess I’ll go back and tell my wife she was wrong. I love doing that. Good seeing you, son. Don’t disappear so long.” Virgil patted Tyler’s shoulder and shuffled back to his table.
When we were seated again, Tyler dug into his breakfast.
“He seems like quite a character,” I said.
“He is.”
“Think you’ll go over to the high school like he asked?”
“Nah. They don’t want me over there.”
“I thought you missed baseball.”
“I do.” He picked up a slice of bacon and tore a piece off with his teeth.
“And you aren’t sure what the next move should be.”
He gave me his best menacing glare as he chewed.
“You don’t think you have something valuable to offer the next generation of players?”
“I know I do.” He quirked a brow at me. “I never said I wouldn’t be good at it.”
“So what are you afraid of?” I pressed.
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
I said nothing, just picked up my coffee cup and took a sip.
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve decided. You are officially worse than my sister.”
“At what?”
“Pushing my buttons.”
“Does that mean you’ll stop by the school before you leave?”
“If I do, will you stop trying to boss me around?”
I grinned and picked up my cinnamon roll. “I’ll consider it.”
Nine
Tyler
After breakfast, I dropped April off at Cloverleigh Farms and headed back to my hotel to get in a workout at the gym. It was still raining, and I wondered if Sadie was going to panic about that. April had been fretting on the ride back, checking the radar app on her phone with her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
I wanted to bite that lip too.
I hadn’t thought anything could be more difficult than keeping my hands off April in the car last night, but watching her lick icing off her fingers this morning made me want to flip the table between us, throw her legs over my shoulders, and bury my face between her thighs.
Probably not the kind of behavior the crowd at Coffee Darling was used to, but hey, it would have been fun.
I was hoping a good hard weight session and some serious inclines on the treadmill would help me work off some of the sexual tension, but they didn’t. I kept thinking about her while I worked out, imagining how she’d taste. Sweet, no doubt—like that cherry ice cream last night. But she’d be warm, not cool.
I’d go slow at first—I bet she liked it like that—so slow I’d drive her crazy. She’d moan and she’d sigh and she’d plead—Tyler. Just like that. Don’t stop. And she’d put her hands in my hair and dig her heels into my back, and I wouldn’t stop until I made her come.
Then—I had all the details worked out because I’d spent a fair amount of time last night jerking off to them—then, I’d move up her body and slide my cock into her while she was still wet and hot and murmuring softly. Yes, she’d say. Fuck me, Tyler. You’re so big. You’re so good. You’re the best I’ve ever had.
Suddenly I heard myself groan out loud, and I quickly turned it into a cough so the other two people in the gym wouldn’t think I was a fucking weirdo.
But Jesus. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been unable to get a woman out of my head. Was it because she was so completely off limits? Did I just want what I couldn’t have? Was it because she reminded me of the me I used to be, and actually gave me back some of that feeling? Or was she just gorgeous and sexy and totally my type? I was a man, not a machine—a man in the middle of a tragic dry spell. Why wouldn’t I find her tempting?
After I showered and dressed, I texted Sadie and asked her if she wanted to have lunch with me. I needed a distraction. She replied that she had to run a few errands downtown, but she’d meet me afterward, and gave me the name of a diner on Main Street.
I was sitting at the table waiting for her when I heard a voice.
“Excuse me. Tyler Shaw?”
I looked up and saw a young woman standing beside my table with a notepad and pen in her hand—a reporter. I’d learned to recognize them. “No,” I told her.
She laughed like I’d said something really clever and tossed her Barbie hair. “My name is Bethany Bloomstar, I’m a local reporter for—”
“I’m not interested.” I gave her the menacing glare.
“I know what you were hoping.” I’d dealt with these people day in and day out in San Diego. “And I have nothing to say to you.”
“Well, we’re doing a story on you, and we’d like to give you an opportunity to comment. Any idea what caused your mental breakdown?”
“Look, I’m asking you politely.”
“Asking me what?” Her eyebrows rose suggestively.
I frowned, feeling my grip on politeness about to go the way of the pterodactyl, and spoke through gritted teeth. “Fine. I’m telling you politely. I have nothing to say.”
“Are you aware that some people are referring to the yips as Tyler Shaw Syndrome?”
“Please go away.”
“Look, we’re doing the story. Don’t you want your voice on the record?”
“Here’s something for your record—fuck off.” Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said it, she was only trying to do her job, I get it . . . but she was like the eleventy-billionth reporter trying to get in my head, and it wasn’t a space I shared with strangers.
“That’s your comment?” she asked.
“That’s my comment.”
She sighed. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.”
“That’s the way I want it.”
After she left, I pulled out my phone, thinking of texting Sadie that I’d changed my mind about lunch in a public place. Hadn’t I learned my lesson by now?
“Tyler?”
I looked up from my phone, ready for another fight, but it wasn’t another reporter. It was Virgil’s son David, the coach at the high school. He’d been an assistant back when I was playing, and he’d also taught social studies, if I remembered correctly.
“David. Hey.” Setting my phone on the table, I stood up and shook his hand.
“Good to see you, Tyler. I heard you were in town.”
“News travels fast. I just saw your dad this morning.”
David chuckled. “He was so glad to see you. Called me right away.”
“So you’re still at the high school?”
He nodded. “Dad said he tried to convince you to stop by.”
Unforgettable: A Small Town Second Chance Sports Romance Page 9