Travis

by Duncan Leigh

  She scoured clear blue skies and puffy white clouds, hoping for the right words to help her son find the balance his father’s life had been missing. What she spotted instead was Travis. Though the tiniest flutter rippled through her at the sight of his rugged form striding from the school, she bit down on the inside of her cheek. The man was leaving town. Even if she wanted someone to take her side, Travis wasn’t that guy.

  She fanned Josh’s schoolwork. “I expect better from you than this.”

  “Mo-om. I have to warm up.” Josh tried to brush past her.

  She moved to block his path. “No, kiddo. What you have to do is listen up. Your grades are more important than baseball. From now on, we have a new rule. For every hour you spend on the ball field, I expect you to spend another hour on your studies. You understand?”

  “That’s not fair,” Josh blustered.

  It was her turn to shrug and she put her best effort into it. “Whatever it takes, Josh. You have to do better in school.”

  Josh tugged his cleats from his backpack. Kicking off his shoes, he threw himself down on the dirt. His harsh “You can’t make me” nearly broke her heart.

  “Is there a problem?”

  At the sound of Travis’s voice, Courtney expelled a long breath. She nodded stiffly. “Nothing you need to worry about.” She hated the abrupt words but forced herself to hold Travis’s gaze while she said them.

  Josh stood. In a move that sprayed dirt in all directions, he stubbed his foot into the ground.

  “No, Chosh, no!” Addie stomped her feet.

  A dark V formed between Travis’s brows. Leaning down to pluck the littlest Smith from the ground, the big man cleared his throat. “Josh, I won’t tolerate disrespect. You owe your mother an apology.”

  “Sor-ree.” Though the response was immediate, scorn marred the boy’s tone. His eyes huge, he pleaded with his coach. “Can’t you make her see that practice and games are more important than some stupid old spelling test?”

  A lump formed in Courtney’s throat. Involving Travis was not where she’d wanted to go. Now, though, she had no choice. She had to make her position clear. She squared her shoulders. “I was explaining that my son has to make his schoolwork a priority.”

  Dreading Travis’s response, she followed his gaze as it slowly drifted to the boy.

  “You have a lot of potential,” the coach said at last. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen a new player catch on as quickly as you have. I think you could do really well in this sport.”

  “See, Mom?” Josh crossed his arms.

  Courtney let out the breath she’d been holding. Well, what had she expected? That Travis would take her side?

  He held up a hand. “But your mom’s right. Your studies have to come first. No matter how much I want you to play for the Sluggers, if your grades suffer, you’ll be off the team. You got that?”

  Courtney blinked. Had she heard correctly? Wondering if her face wore the same blank stare she saw on her son’s, she studied Josh. As the realization that he’d lost the battle dawned on him, resignation replaced the defiance he’d carried across his shoulders.

  “Yes, Coach,” Josh said, his voice subdued. Looking down, he scuffed one foot.

  Over his head Courtney mouthed a grateful “Thank you” toward Travis. The shaky smile she aimed at him firmed when he handed Addie to her with a wink and a wide grin.

  “Okay, then.” Travis lifted one broad shoulder as if he hadn’t just knocked her world sideways. “What do you think, Mom? Can Josh practice today or does he need to go home and study?”

  Courtney pressed her lips together, certain that if she didn’t her mouth would drop wide open. She swept a glance over Travis’s impartial expression to study the eager one on Josh’s face.

  “As long as you get your homework done tonight—” she began.

  “I will!” Earnestness beamed from the boy.

  “—and study extra hard for your spelling test on Friday, then, yes, you can practice.”

  Travis clamped a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You’re a smart boy. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t ace all your tests.”

  As the two of them headed for the field, Courtney shook her head. No doubt about it, she’d misjudged Travis. She’d assumed he was all about baseball. Apparently, he understood the importance of excelling in school, too. Best of all, he wasn’t afraid to use his position as coach to bring out the best in her son.

  It took a couple of seconds before she could manage more than a whispered “Wow. Didn’t see that coming.”

  Chapter Seven

  Travis suppressed a grin as he stepped inside the nearly empty coffee shop. He knew it was wrong to wish he could have Courtney to himself in the mornings. From what he’d gathered, her little café needed all the business it could get. But he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed spending a few quiet moments with her when no one else was around. Three long strides took him to the counter.

  “The usual,” he said.

  Courtney’s eyes were such a brilliant blue he thought a man could get lost in them and never regret leaving his map at home. Afraid he might get caught looking, he plucked a five-dollar bill from his wallet and used the excuse to break eye contact.

  “We go through this every day.” A touch of stubborn independence showed in her gaze. “No charge—”

  “And every day I say the same thing,” Travis countered. “You can ring up my order. Or I’ll simply put the money in the tip jar.” He grabbed his coffee and sat at one of the nearby tables where he could watch her work.

  “So how’s Addie this morning?” he asked while Courtney swept a few crumbs from the counter.

  “Still sleeping, thank goodness.” More fatigue than normal showed in her face when she pushed back her hair with one forearm.

  “Tough night?”

  “She was up and down most of it. I’ll be glad when she cuts this new tooth.”

  He pictured Courtney in a rocking chair, a fussy baby in her arms, and shook his head. His admiration rose as he considered her long days in the shop, followed by even longer nights. Single parenthood was a tough gig.

  The bell over the door jingled its reminder that, even on slow days, his time with Courtney never lasted long enough. He sat back while she waited on two new arrivals. When they headed out the door carrying their breakfast orders, he got straight to the point.

  “I’m starting Josh in the season opener this weekend.” The boys considered it quite the honor to be one of the first nine to take the field.

  Courtney’s smile faded. “Are you sure he’s ready?”

  Ready enough that he’d contacted an old friend, suggested he come see the boy. No one judged raw talent better than Frank Booker. The Cannons scout could tell if a kid had potential with just one glimpse.

  Sure, Courtney had a thing about baseball, but she’d change her tune if she learned her son was one of those one-in-a-million kids who could go all the way. Who wouldn’t? For now, though, there wasn’t any sense in raising her hopes—or her dander. He met her gaze.

  “We’ve only practiced for a month, but Josh outplays kids who’ve been in the majors a year or two. Did he get his talent from you?” The question gave him a darn good excuse to study her compact form.

  “Not hardly.” She laughed and snapped at him with her dish towel. “Board games are more my style. I used to work out at the gym but I haven’t done that since…” Her laughter died. Staring through the window, she turned somber. “Since Addie was born, I haven’t exactly had the time.”

  Which was just about when she’d lost her husband, according to the school records. Struck by how much responsibility the young widow had shouldered, Travis swigged the last of his coffee. He risked a cautious “Josh’s dad, did he play sports?”

  “You might say that.” Courtney scrubbed the spotless counter.

  Her tone carried an uncharacteristic harshness that tasted as bitter as the dregs of his coffee. Though it was nearly time for school, Tr
avis rose for a refill. “You never talk about him,” he said softly.

  Her hands stilled. She stared down at her ringless fingers. “That’s because there’s not much to say.” A damp, gut-twisting line traced down her cheek. “I knew our marriage was in trouble. He’d grown moody, distant. I thought if we got away—away from his job, from all the tension—we might find our way back to each other.”

  She grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and swiped her nose. “Things didn’t turn out like I hoped. By the time I realized they weren’t going to, I was already pregnant.” She nodded toward her office and the crib where Addie napped.

  “So you stayed.” A sinking feeling filled his chest at the idea of her trapped in a loveless marriage.

  “Yeah, I stayed. I couldn’t take his kids from him. Not then. Later, when the truth came out…” Her eyes brimmed. “A car accident took my husband’s life, but he’d destroyed our marriage long before that.”

  More than anything, Travis wanted to wipe away her tears. She did it first, brushing at them with the back of her hand. At last, she took a breath so deep it made her chest swell. On the slow exhale her posture straightened.

  “He cheated, all right? Not just once or twice. A lot.”

  “What?” His fists tightened. He flexed his hands. Trapped on the other side of the counter, he settled for reaching across it. He cupped Courtney’s chin in his fingers, tipping her face up to his. He sought her eyes, captured them with his own and refused to let her look away.

  “Courtney,” he whispered. “A man would have to be insane or a fool—or both—to cheat on you.”

  In his hand her chin wobbled.

  “Oh, he cheated, all right.” A potent mix of emotions swirled in her darkened eyes. “Only, I was too blind to see it. I should have known.”

  For the first time in his life, Travis wished he were a poet, a wordsmith. He wasn’t, but he summoned his best argument.

  “He was the blind one for not recognizing what a treasure he had. You deserved better. Look at all you’ve accomplished.” He ran his free hand over the counter. “This café. Your kids. You’re a wonderful mom, a smart businesswoman.”

  As Courtney managed a tremulous smile, he gently released her. His hand dropped to her shoulder, where he traced circles over a few scattered freckles. Though one part of him wished her husband were still alive so he could knock some sense into the idiot, the warm skin beneath his fingers forced him to admit that another part of him was mighty glad Courtney didn’t cling to a faded memory.

  Why? Because you want her for yourself?

  The disturbing truth hit him hard. So hard the jangle of bells announcing the arrival of another customer didn’t faze him, because by the time he heard it, he was on his way out the door.

  Travis snugged his tie into place. He checked his image in the mirror and scowled. A crooked knot would never do. The league president might ignore the dress requirement for him, but was that what he really wanted? He managed not to growl. Breaking the rules—even the little ones—smacked of special treatment. The kind Courtney suspected of all athletes. Resigned to starting over, he loosened the slick silk.

  He stopped just long enough to rub the spot in his chest that had ached from the moment she’d told him about her cad of a husband. Ever since, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his thoughts. He wanted to prove to her that not all men cheated. That he would never.

  He was as certain of it as he was that he’d be late for the fund-raiser.

  Sure enough, by the time he retraced his route to McLarty Park, cars crowded the parking lot. Music drifted from the rec center, where a DJ spun the latest hits. Travis’s strides took him past the front door just as Greg Dowling, president of the Little League, tapped on a microphone. He hustled to join the other coaches, who’d already taken their places at the podium.

  “Don’t we all clean up nice?” Greg’s smile broadened as he gestured to the suit he wore instead of his normal jeans and windbreaker. “You might be used to seeing most of these men in shorts and T-shirts, but there’s nothing casual about the way we treat the players on our teams. Every coach here, every parent who spends time in the snack bar, every person involved in Little League wants only the best for today’s youth.”

  A scattering of polite applause erupted. Greg waited for it to die down before he continued.

  “Now, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already see the value in what we do. I encourage you all to talk with our coaches, and don’t forget to pledge your support.”

  Greg fanned a handful of forms. Dozens more rested on practically every surface.

  “Thanks to a few of our sponsors…”

  While the president rattled off the names of several local businesses, Travis’s thoughts drifted to one that wasn’t included. The league had focused its fund-raising efforts on long-established business owners. Not recent arrivals who, according to the rumor mill, might not be around by the end of the season. He pushed away an image of a closed and shuttered Coffee on Brevard the same way he squashed the picture of a certain upstairs apartment devoid of childish laughter.

  Courtney was smart, savvy, driven. She’d make the café work.

  Aware that his attention had wandered, he dragged it back in time for Greg’s closing remarks.

  “There’s a cash bar in the corner, just in case a little liquid refreshment will lighten your hold on your wallet.” Never one to belabor the point, the president stepped away from the podium while laughter still filled the room.

  Free to mingle, Travis spent a few minutes with the manager of a sporting-goods store. While the DJ played one baseball song after another, he congratulated the owner of his favorite Italian restaurant on the man’s impending retirement. Making his way through the crowd, he stepped to the closest bar in time to hear ice cubes jostle in an enormous cooler. Three brown bottles clinked as the bartender set beer on the counter.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” A reporter from Florida Today waved a twenty to catch the bartender’s attention. “A beer for me and… What do you want, Coach?”

  Travis nodded to the wiry young man behind the bar. “A soda, thanks.” Though nothing tasted better than an ice-cold beer after a long day, he still had work to do.

  “So, Travis, how do the Sluggers look this year? Think they’ll make it all the way this time?”

  “To the World Series?” The reporter downed half his bottle with one swig while Travis considered an answer. The man knew as well as he did that trying to predict which team would have a good season and which wouldn’t was a wasted effort. There were too many variables. An injury, a few wrong calls. Heck, a key player could come down with the flu and take their chances for tournament play with him. Still, the man had asked.

  “You won’t be wasting time if you come to a few of our games. Maybe send a photographer.”

  The reporter grinned as if he’d been given a big scoop. “Will do, Coach.”

  Whatever he was about to say next died on Travis’s lips when he spotted a woman wearing a blue dress that fit her shape as if it had been made for her. He did a double take.

  What was she doing here?

  “Excuse me,” he said, his feet already taking him away from the reporter. He set his soda aside to grab two glasses from a passing tray.

  Halfway to her side, he watched Courtney’s scan of the room slide to a halt the moment she spotted him. The lips she’d painted a glistening pink curved into a welcoming smile that singled him out. His pace quickened, and he wove past the last of the crowd.

  “What a nice surprise.” The tiniest flicker of doubt that she was happy to see him faded away when her eyes found his. “Drink?” He held out a ginger ale.

  “Thanks.” She reached for the glass, her fingers softly brushing his. Her gaze traveled his length. “You make that suit look good.”

  Glad now that he’d taken the time to redo the knot, Travis smoothed his tie. He swept her with an admiring glance. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” H
e would have said more, but he was afraid he’d come off like a schoolkid with his first crush. In truth, Courtney looked so ravishing his fingers literally ached with the need to slide around her waist and pull her close. His gaze skimmed over fabric that fell from her shoulders to a tantalizing neckline. A low-slung belt hugged her slim hips. He followed the skirt that swirled above her knees to barely caress her shapely calves. His focus dropped lower, to shoes that were all thin straps with the sweetest little bows at the toes.

  He shot the cuff of one sleeve and tightened his grip on his soda while he searched for an innocuous topic.

  “Where are the kids?”

  “With a babysitter. Melinda and I are splitting the cost.” She sipped her drink, her lips leaving the tiniest pink smudge on the rim of the glass. “She and her husband insisted I come with them. I hope it’s okay.”

  “Better than okay,” he said, his voice low. “I have to talk to some people, but I’d welcome the company if you’re game.”

  “That sounds like a lot more fun than standing here by myself.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you’d be alone for very long.” He gave her a teasing grin. There was practically no chance of the prettiest girl in the room turning into a wallflower. Why, if he walked away, guys would line up to sweep her off her feet. He scoured the room. There weren’t many singles at the event, but he wouldn’t put it past one or two wolves to make a move. Feeling a little possessive, he held out his arm. His chest swelled when Courtney threaded her fingers through his.

  The next hour flew by. At the end of it, Travis had spoken with every business owner in attendance, obtained the desired support from most of them and thanked each one profusely for helping out. He was just slipping the final pledge card into his pocket when the DJ ran out of songs about baseball. The soulful opening notes of “Lay Down Beside Me” drifted from the giant speakers. Glancing down at the woman who’d spent time making small talk with people she barely knew, he convinced himself she deserved to relax a bit.

  “Would you like to take a spin?” He held his breath while he waited for an answer that seemed as important as throwing a perfect strike.