They may have been the reason they’d gotten married in the first place, but they had nothing to do with the divorce. If anything, they were the reason she’d stayed as long as she had.
“Sometimes he’d get mad when we erupted his work.” Sophie needed more assurance.
“Interrupted.” Olivia corrected her sister. “A volcano erupts, like the one that killed the dinosaurs.”
“A steroid killed the dinosaurs.” Sophie argued. “Not a volcano. It was a big rock from outer space that crashed into the ocean making them all drown.”
“Girls. Do you want to go to the beach or do you want to argue about why the dinosaurs became extinct?” Annabelle loved the way they each stood their ground, like two little scientists arguing over theories. They were already smarter than she was. Or at least, they were smarter than she’d ever been encouraged to be.
“The beach!” Both girls stopped their argument and rushed upstairs to get their swimsuits on. It still amused her to think they could wear swimsuits in January. There was only about a ten to fifteen degree difference in temperature, but it felt so much warmer down here than in San Francisco. They often wore fleece sweatshirts to the beach in San Francisco even in the summer. And they didn’t swim in the ocean. Sure they’d dip their toes in the water, explore tide pools, and fly kites at the beach. Swimming was something they did at the tennis club.
Still, she grabbed the girls’ sweaters. Just in case.
The excitement on her daughters’ faces was reassuring. Moving down here had been the right thing to do. Even if her modeling career wasn’t going to take off. The change had been just what they’d all needed to be happy, healthy, and healing.
Chapter 7
Even knowing Annabelle had promised to take her daughters to the beach that afternoon, Cooper felt a jolt straight through him at the sight of them enjoying the sun and the sand. Annabelle was stretched out on one of those low-slung beach chairs with a big floppy hat protecting her delicate skin. Olivia, wearing a pink swimsuit, and Sophie, in green, were happily digging in the sand just above the waterline.
He couldn’t not stop by and see how they were doing.
“Hey, how’s everything going?” He stood above her with the sun on his back.
Annabelle held a hand up to shade her eyes, even though she wore those oversized sunglasses that were practically required gear in Southern California.
“Good.” She smiled when she recognized him. “Just soaking in the fresh air and sunshine.”
“Well, enjoy.” He turned back toward his house but Sophie ran up to him holding a ball and a glove.
“Will you play catch with me?” she pleaded. “Olivia just wants to build castles, but I want to play catch and Mommy’s gotta rest.”
He swallowed, looking down at her earnest expression. She wanted to play a game of catch. Something that had once come as natural to him as breathing.
“Please?” She tilted her head to one side, big blue eyes shining so much like her mother’s.
“Sure. I just need to grab my glove.” He swallowed the twenty pound rosin bag that had lodged in his throat.
“You can use Olivia’s” She held out her sister’s tiny brand-new glove—a Christmas gift, maybe.
“Don’t think so.” He knelt down, inspecting the stiff unbroken leather. “It’s too small, for one thing. And I’m left-handed. I wear my glove on the other hand.”
“Oh.” She sounded slightly disappointed. “I thought it was because it’s pink.”
“I’ll be right back.” He stood up, patted her on the top of her head, and jogged back to his place.
He opened the hall closet where he kept his equipment, shoved in the back where it couldn’t mock him. He unzipped the bag and reached for his trusted companion. He held the leather up to his nose and inhaled. For the first time in a long time, the smell didn’t make his stomach churn. It was familiar. Comforting, even.
He put it on. Yep. It still fit. Fit like a…like an extension of his hand. He punched the pocket, just as he’d done thousands of times. When he didn’t see spots dance in front of his eyes, he figured he could do this. He could play a simple game of catch.
Cooper grabbed an extra ball and zipped up the bag. He toed the closet door closed and headed out the front door feeling as if his left arm wasn’t a thousand pounds heavier than it should be.
“What took you so long?” Sophie stood with one gloved hand on her hip, the other dangling at her side, the ball nestled in her palm.
Had to slay a few demons, milady.
“Took me a few minutes to find my glove,” he lied. It was his courage he’d had to rummage around for.
“Well let’s go then, we’re burning daylight.” Sophie popped the ball into her glove as if she’d been born to play. He could picture her with a wad of bubble gum in her mouth and her cap pulled low over her forehead.
Crouching down a few feet in front of her, he held his glove up, ready for her to make a soft toss. He’d spent a few years working with kids as part of the Harrison Foundation’s minicamp. But those kids had been a little older, like nine to twelve. And they hadn’t been miniature versions of Annabelle Jones.
Sophie did an exaggerated windup, curled her gloved hand in front of her, scrunched her face up with all the seriousness of the most hardened veteran, and hurled the ball toward him. It sailed over his head and he jogged off after it.
He could hear Annabelle’s laughter behind him as he picked up the ball. He brushed the sand off on his shorts and then prepared to throw a baseball for the first time since his surgery. For the first time since he’d blown out his shoulder in that disastrous appearance in St. Louis.
Okay, so a soft toss into the glove of a six-year-old was hardly the same as the mid-nineties fastball he’d wielded so effectively in his prime. But if he couldn’t get past his mental block, his prime was over. His career would be over.
He held the ball, feeling the raised stitches as he turned it over in his palm, trying to find the right grip. He glanced over at Annabelle who watched with hopeful anticipation. She reached up and touched her own stitches, almost subconsciously, as if she didn’t realize she was doing it.
Cooper tossed the ball softly to Sophie. It landed in her glove and she clapped her hand over it.
“I caught it.” She squealed in delight. “I caught it. Did you see that, Mommy? I caught it.”
Annabelle clapped and watched Sophie throw the ball back to him. This time she underthrew it and he had to lunge forward to snag it just before it hit the sand.
“That’s great, honey.” Annabelle praised her daughter’s triumph. What she didn’t realize was that it was an even bigger accomplishment for him.
A few more tosses back and forth, and he no longer felt like a fraud. He could pick up a ball and his arm didn’t fall off. His head didn’t explode, and an angry mob didn’t come after him with pitchforks calling him names.
Cheater. Imposter. Loser.
“Can I play, too?” Olivia abandoned her sandcastle and picked up her pink glove. Soon they were engaged in a three-way toss. Eventually the two girls became more comfortable playing with each other and he faded into the background.
He stood there marveling at the joy the two of them found in a simple game of catch. It wasn’t about money or fame or winning at all costs. It was about having fun. They were playing ball. Something he’d forgotten how to do a long time ago.
Baseball had once been something he played. Because it was fun. It got him out of the house. Away from his father’s anger, his sister’s nagging, and the fear that he’d somehow been the reason his mother had left.
At some point, baseball had become more than a game. It had become his ticket to making something of himself. It had been a long shot, but for someone like him, it had been everything.
And he’d pissed it away.
“It’s hot.” Sophie drew her gloved hand across her forehead. “Can we go in the water?”
“Yeah, can we?” Olivia hadn’t been playing as long, but she seemed just as eager to cool off.
It had to be at least seventy degrees out. Not exactly sweltering, but warm enough to dip their toes in the water.
“Sure. Just don’t go in too deep,” Annabelle warned.
They dropped their gloves and the ball on the beach blanket and dashed off toward the water.
* * * *
“Would you like to sit down?” Annabelle craned her neck to invite Cooper to join her.
“No. I’m okay.” He seemed distant as he looked out over the ocean.
“Well, then can you help me up?” She reached out her hand. “I’m getting a stiff neck trying to talk to you.”
“Sure.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a standing position.
“How tall are you again?” She stretched, her muscles tight from sitting for so long.
“Six-three.”
She filed the information into her memory, along with the fact that he was left-handed, and all the other little details she’d noticed about him. He liked Thai food and classic rock. He played his guitar on his porch at night and had turned his dining room into a home gym. The man bought all-natural healing lotion from the farmer’s market and kept old magazines in his bedside drawer.
She focused on the little bits of information she knew about him. Maybe she was afraid of forgetting. Or maybe she was afraid of finding out his secret.
“Thanks for playing catch with Sophie and Olivia.” She looked over at him, noting how he held his glove almost reverently.
He glanced down at the well-worn mitt and smiled. “Anytime.”
He tossed it on the blanket next to the girls’ gloves and stretched his arms overhead.
Oh my. His shirt stretched across his broad chest and clung to sculpted shoulders. The high tech fabric was designed to wick away moisture, but there were a few spots darkened by perspiration. A slight breeze tickled her nose and she could smell him. The salt from sweat and the sea air. A faint scent of leather that seemed to fit him. And that certain something that was unique to him alone.
Desire swept over her like a rogue wave. She wanted this man. This mysterious yet kind, strong but gentle man who’d come to her rescue and played with her daughters.
She swept her gaze out over the water, trying to get her thoughts back to where they belonged.
“Oh, Sophie’s getting a little too far out.” Her gut tightened. She should have been keeping a better eye on her children instead of letting her mind wander to where it had no business going.
“I’ll get her.” Cooper moved with an astonishing quickness. One minute he was standing next to her, sending off powerful pheromones. The next he was racing into the ocean, scooping Sophie up just as a giant wave came crashing over her.
She sputtered and coughed and clung to his neck. Olivia ran up to him from where she was playing in the shallower water. She threw her arms around his waist and followed him and her sister up the beach to dry land.
“You saved her.” Olivia’s eyes were wide with fear and awe. “You’re a hero.”
“Th-th-thank you.” Sophie’s voice was thick with fright. She buried her head into his neck, sobbing.
“You’re fine.” He patted her wet, matted hair. “Come on, let’s get a cold drink and then we’ll go back out. This time, I’ll show you how to dive under those big waves.”
He lowered her to the blanket while Annabelle reached into the cooler for Sophie’s water bottle. She wasn’t sure if she liked the idea of him taking Sophie back out there, but realized that he was only trying to get her to face her fears.
Besides, he’d be right there with her. He would protect her. And Olivia, too.
Sophie emptied her water bottle, calming with each swallow.
“Are you ready?” Cooper stood tall and strong, extending a hand to both girls. He walked slowly toward the surf with her daughters. They both stared up at him with rapt attention, as if he held all the secrets to the universe. They would believe anything he told them. If he told them they could become mermaids, they’d grow tails and swim away.
He eased them back into the water. A couple of times, the girls clung to him when the bigger swells reached their knees. But he was patient and steady and strong. Eventually the girls let go of his hand. They frolicked in the surf, jumping and squealing, and having a blast. And yes, they did learn how to dive under the bigger waves, popping up like otters on the other side.
They played in the water for about twenty minutes before Cooper chased the girls back up the beach. He tore off his wet T-shirt and Annabelle gasped. Just loud enough that he heard her and gave her a naughty little smile when she tossed him an extra towel.
“Thank you,” she mouthed as she turned to dry off her daughters.
“Anytime.” The way he looked at her—no, he looked right through her—she got the feeling he was talking about taking off his shirt, not saving Sophie from the ocean and then keeping her from becoming afraid.
“Stay for dinner?” She couldn’t help but ask.
“What are you making?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to check my pantry.” She realized she hadn’t done her usual Saturday grocery shopping.
“I’m sure between the two of us we could cook up something tasty.”
“Yeah. I’m sure we could.” But nothing edible.
* * * *
His hands were trembling by the time they got all the beach stuff packed up and carried back to Annabelle’s house. They hung the wet beach towels over the porch railing and stomped off as much sand as possible before going through the back door into her sunny kitchen.
“Let’s see…food.” Annabelle tossed her sun hat on the counter and pulled open the refrigerator. She bent over at the waist, rummaging through her available produce. “I have some chicken breasts. And carrots…”
He tore his eyes away from her perfect ass. Glancing around her kitchen, he spied some lemons in a bowl on the counter.
“We could make soup.” He had some kale that was starting to wilt. And he always kept onions, garlic, and some organic chicken broth in his pantry. “I have some vegetables we could throw in there. Maybe some barley.”
“Barley?” Annabelle gave him a quizzical look. “For chicken soup?”
“I guess your kids aren’t big barley fans.”
“No. They probably won’t eat much of the vegetables either.” She put the chicken and carrots on the counter and crossed the room.
“I imagine the kids would prefer pasta.” He tried to avoid processed foods, choosing whole grains when possible.
“Yeah, I think I have some Annie’s.” Annabelle pulled a purple box of organic macaroni and cheese out of the pantry. “Could we use this?”
“I’m not sure about the cheese packet, though.”
Laughing, she walked over to him and gave him a shove. “Don’t be silly. I’ll save that to make a double batch next time.”
“I’ll run next door and grab a few things.” Such as the vegetables and a quick, cold shower. He almost wished he had a bottle of wine to bring over, but then he remembered Annabelle had suffered a head injury.
And this wasn’t a date.
So what was he doing combining Annabelle’s chicken with his vegetables? Was he trying to merge their two households and create some kind of family?
No. Stupid to even think such a thought.
He couldn’t leave them to starve, though. Yeah, right. Like Annabelle couldn’t pick up the phone and have anything she wanted delivered. She wasn’t helpless. She didn’t really need him. He was just convenient, an easy solution to a problem, a quick fix.
He just hoped she wouldn’t come to regret using him.
Chapter 8
It was far too comfortable working side by side with Cooper, making homemade chicken soup. Who would have thought adding lemon zest, thyme, and kale could turn a plain soup into something
special? She was starting to think three million would be perfectly reasonable to hire the man as a personal chef.
He’d actually got her children to eat green vegetables and ask for seconds. She’d more than expected them to pick out the chicken and the pasta shells and leave the rest behind. They normally didn’t eat anything green—not even green Skittles.
Once again, she handled the bathing, and Cooper took care of the kitchen cleanup. He was just wiping the counter when she came back downstairs.
“I’ll run over and get my guitar.” He folded the towel and hung it on the oven door handle. “For bedtime songs.”
“They’re already asleep.” Annabelle brushed her hair off her forehead. “They had a busy afternoon.”
“Yeah. They did.” Cooper leaned against the counter. An awkwardness rose between them now that they both realized they were essentially alone.
“I can’t thank you enough…”
“Stop.” He moved just a little bit closer. “I’ve heard this one already. I’m no hero.”
She inched toward him, her heart beating faster. “You saved Sophie. That makes you a hero in my book. “
“I’m sure it looked like a bigger wave than it was. Sophie’s a pretty strong girl.” The space between them seemed to dissipate. “Like her mother.”
“I’m not that strong.”
“Yes you are. You’re stronger than you think.”
“I wish that were true.”
“Annabelle.” He said her name with a breathless intensity. Sexy. Exotic. Almost musical.
“I like the way you say my name.” She smiled, tilting her head slightly. “I’ve always thought my name was a little, oh, I don’t know, kind of silly.”
“Silly?” He raised an eyebrow, as if the idea was ridiculous.
“You know, frivolous.” How could she explain? “No one expects much of me. Other than to look pretty and not say much.”
“Like a picture in a magazine?”
Making a Comeback Page 7