Team Mom: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love Book 1)

by Delaney Cameron

  Team Mom:

  A Sweet Contemporary Romance

  (Finding Love, Book 1)

  by

  Delaney Cameron

  ©2015 Delaney Cameron

  Cover Art Copyright: vgstudio (Young couple)

  Cover Art Copyright: David Lee (Baseball field)

  Used under license from Shutterstock.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this e-book can be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without the written permission of the author.

  This book is fiction and its characters are purely a manifestation of the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, and events is entirely coincidental. (25)

  Other Books by Delaney Cameron:

  Stealing His Heart: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love, Book 2)

  Love of a Lifetime: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love, Book 3)

  Dare to Love: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love, Book 4)

  Yours, With Love: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love, Book 5)

  Dream of Me: A Sweet Contemporary Romance

  Finding Allie: A Sweet Regency Romance Novella

  For updates or to sign up for my newsletter, please go to:

  delaneycameron.weebly.com

  Chapter One

  The scent of freshly mowed grass filled the air. Julie smiled reassuringly at the boy getting out of the car, all the while hoping she’d done the right thing. Would baseball provide the diversion he so badly needed? As they emerged from the rows of parked vehicles, a large metal sign proclaimed their arrival at Lakeside Park. A winding sidewalk took them past bleachers partially filled with parents, all eyes glued to the action taking place on the field.

  “Let’s find the office first,” Julie said. “Someone there will know where we’re supposed to go.” Resisting the urge to take his hand, she walked around to the back of the green-roofed concession stand and stopped before an open door. “Wait for me here, Jordan. I’ll be right back.”

  Her entrance into the tiny room halted the animated conversation taking place between the two men standing on either side of a desk.

  “Can I help you?” the one closest to her asked.

  She smiled faintly. “I hope so. I need to find Coach Gibson.”

  The men exchanged a look. “I’m heading that way now. I’ll show you.”

  “Thank you.” She followed him out the door, stopping to speak to Jordan. “This nice man is going to show us where to go.”

  Jordan slipped his arms through the straps of a bat bag that was almost as big as he was.

  The man turned to Julie. “I’m Coach Tillerson. I’ll be helping Coach Gibson with the team.”

  “I’m Julie Evans and this is Jordan.”

  “It’s nice to meet you both. The practice fields for the younger boys are in the back. If you want to avoid the long walk, you can park at the rec center. It’s a lot closer.”

  She laughed. “Thanks for the tip. We’ll do that next time.”

  He led them past two more fields and a pavilion jammed with people sitting at picnic tables. To Julie’s dismay, the sidewalk ended at this point. Ruefully contemplating her high heeled sandals, she walked gingerly on the patchy surface that was more dirt than actual grass.

  Coach Tillerson looked back and noticed her difficulty. “They hope to extend the sidewalk this summer. In the meantime, we have to put up with muddy shoes.”

  “I’d normally be wearing tennis shoes, but I was late leaving work. I’ll try to have Jordan here on time from now on.”

  “No problem. Has he played before?”

  “He played tee ball, but that was several years ago.”

  “How old is he?”

  She’d been expecting this question. Jordan was small for his age; a state of affairs Julie was positive would pass as he grew older. His father was well over six foot. “He just turned nine.”

  Turning to look at Jordan, Coach Tillerson asked, “What position would you like to play?”

  “Outfield or first base.”

  “We definitely need outfielders.”

  Julie blew out an exasperated breath as one of her spiked heels sank so far into the soft ground that it stuck. Hobbling on one foot, she reached down and pulled the shoe free. How much further could they possibly have to go? And whose grand idea was it to put practice fields in a flood plain? This area probably never dried out.

  Her jovial mood had taken a beating by the time Coach Tillerson stopped and waved a hand toward a rickety set of weather-beaten bleachers. Surely he didn’t expect her to sit on that. The metal frame was twisted, and the wood was splintered so badly in places it should be considered a health hazard. Did the little league officials ever bother to walk back here and check this out?

  Coach Tillerson grinned at her horrified expression. “It looks worse than it is. I’ll throw with Jordan to get him warmed up and then take him to Coach Gibson.”

  Julie didn’t bother to argue the point about the bleachers. Instead, she slid her purse from her shoulder and put it down gingerly on the bottom row as if she didn’t expect it to hold even that much weight. Her eyes fell to her feet, and she sighed again.

  “Jason, Will and Robert will be hitting first. The rest of you go to the outfield to shag balls.”

  The deep, attractive voice cut across Julie’s contemplation of her ruined shoes. To her left another man was making his way across the infield, his tall figure towering over the three boys trying to keep pace with his long strides. It was difficult to see his face since he wore a baseball cap and dark sunglasses, but there was no hiding the tan muscular arms and legs not covered by his t-shirt and shorts.

  Was that Coach Gibson? A reluctant smile pulled at her mouth. She’d gone to her share of little league games over the years. She didn’t remember any of the coaches looking like this.

  After admonishing the three boys to get bats and helmets, the man strolled over to where Jordan and Coach Tillerson stood waiting by the fence. Julie watched as the introductions were made and felt a tinge of admiration for the way Coach Gibson shook Jordan’s hand and spent a few minutes talking to him. Whatever he said brought a smile to the boy’s rather solemn features before Jordan took off running to join the others in the outfield.

  The two men conversed for a minute before separating; Coach Tillerson to home plate and Coach Gibson to the pitching mound. It was nonstop for the next two hours. Julie spent the time pacing back and forth trying to ignore the persistent ache in her legs caused by not being able to sit down. Relieved that her suffering was almost over, she walked over to the fence where Jordan was impatiently zipping up his bat bag.

  “I bet you’re hungry now.”

  He nodded. “We practice again tomorrow at six.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Julie saw Coach Gibson coming their way.

  “You missed the parent meeting,” he said, stopping a few feet away. “If you could come a little early for practice tomorrow, say around five-thirty, I can fill you in on everything.”

  Julie hid a smile at the absence of any type of introduction. Apparently, parents, or in this case, aunts weren’t high on this man’s list. That was fine with her. As long as Jordan was treated well, nothing else mattered. “Where should I meet you? Here?”

  “The pavilion you passed on your way in would be better. I’m not sure what field we’ll get.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll see you then.”

  ******

  Eric put down the window for the drive home from the ballpark. Spring was by far his favorite time of year. Here
in coastal Georgia, the cool breezes carried the salty tang of the ocean as well as the scent of honeysuckle. A weary sigh passed through his lips. He loved being back home, but it hadn’t done much to ease the pain in his heart.

  Whoever had coined the phrase ‘broken hearts soon mend’ clearly had never experienced one. Eric had every hope that his heart would eventually mend, but the process was taking entirely too long. His descent from being on top of the world to lying face down in the dirt had happened with a speed he was still trying to come to grips with. It didn’t help that part of the reason for his fall was his own fault.

  He shifted uneasily in the seat, not liking the trend of his thoughts. It didn’t do any good to keep looking back. Fixing the past wasn’t possible nor was he going to be granted a ‘do-over’. All he could do was try not to make the same mistake again.

  Getting involved with little league had been one of his better decisions. It seemed obvious for someone with his background, and yet it had been his brother who suggested it. No doubt Eric would be hearing about that for months to come.

  The season had barely begun, and already he felt his excitement starting to build. He had always been happiest on and around a baseball field. This was a chance to use his knowledge of the game to help others. The exuberance and boundless energy of the boys was infectious, reminding him of a time when life wasn’t so complicated.

  Dealing with the parents was another matter. From the questions he was being asked and the helpful advice he was getting, Eric knew he had some challenges ahead. Managing all the conflicting parental expectations was probably going to be harder than the actual coaching. But even that daunting prospect didn’t make him regret taking this on.

  He’d been surprised to get a call earlier in the day from the league president asking if he’d take another player. The sign-ups and try-outs had been over for two weeks. After meeting Jordan Evans, he was glad he’d agreed. What the boy lacked in skill, he more than made up with enthusiasm.

  Eric made a mental note not to forget about his meeting with Jordan’s mom before practice tomorrow. He didn’t know what kind of parent she would turn out to be, but she sure did smell nice.

  The sultry notes of Only the Lonely broke the silence. Eric picked up his phone and glanced at the screen. This was one customer he could do without.

  “Hey, Myra.”

  “Hi, Eric. I had a repairman at the house today fixing my air conditioner. Somehow he managed to damage one of the sprinkler heads in the yard.”

  “No problem. I can swing by there tomorrow and take a look.”

  “Do you know what time you’ll be coming? I need to show you where it is.”

  Eric rolled his eyes. She could tell him the general area, and he could find it. But if she did that, she wouldn’t be able to walk around in front of him in a bikini that left little to the imagination. He was as appreciative as the next man of the female form, but he didn’t want to see it when he was trying to work or when the woman in question was very married.

  “I’ll be there around four.” And he wouldn’t make the mistake of coming alone this time. He’d assumed that the passing of eleven years and the acquisition of a husband would have changed the girl he remembered from high school. If anything, she was worse.

  How could two people view the past so differently? Eric wanted to forget those make-out sessions in the back of his car, most notably the night her father found them. That moment had stood out as his worst until another more recent event made it seem tame by comparison.

  Myra, on the other hand, seemed determined to not only refresh his memory, but also to drop not-so-subtle hints that she wouldn’t mind picking up where they left off. She always made sure Eric knew the evenings her husband was working late or when he would be going out of town. There were only so many polite ways to say he wasn’t interested, and still she didn’t get it. What was he going to have to do? Have it printed on a t-shirt?

  ******

  Julie put the spaghetti on the table next to a plate of garlic bread. For once Jordan needed no encouragement to eat. It was a relief to see him behaving so normally. He’d made no demur about taking a bath before their meal either.

  The past few weeks had been hectic and challenging. Getting Jordan settled into her apartment, signing him up for school, and arranging for a neighbor to stay with him until she got home from work had been tasks she managed with her usual efficiency. The actual logistics of connecting with him and ensuring his happiness were still being worked out.

  It all started when her brother arrived unannounced at close to midnight with Jordan in tow. She’d known he was due to be shipped overseas. What she hadn’t known was that Devon’s wife had walked out, leaving no one to care for Jordan. His tangled explanations for Megan’s extraordinary behavior made no sense to Julie, though he cited everything from depression to unhappiness with his pending deployment. To all of this she could only nod. In her mind, deserting a child wasn’t an option, even if he was your stepson and not your own flesh and blood.

  Devon shipped out the next day, his date of return seven months in the future if all went well. And so here they were, single aunt and nephew, thrown together for better or worse for the foreseeable future. Nothing had been heard from Megan – no telephone calls to comfort a child who was confused as to how and why his life had suddenly taken such a dramatic turn.

  Julie spent her days with preschoolers. Dealing with a boy this age was an entirely different kind of challenge, but using the patience that had won her the devotion of countless children and parents, she was beginning to see Jordan open up. And in those limited, but revealing conversations, his interest in baseball had emerged.

  As she sat at the table, her hands tracing and cutting flowers to decorate her classroom walls, she wondered about the meeting tomorrow with the businesslike Coach Gibson. She had a feeling that Jordan’s new hobby was going to be more involved than she previously thought.

  ******

  Jordan was already in his practice clothes when she arrived home the following afternoon. Smiling at this evidence of his enthusiasm, she managed to convince him to eat a light snack and agree that there was time for her to change into something more suitable for the ballpark.

  In spite of arriving early, Coach Gibson was already waiting for them in the pavilion. He looked up at their approach and smiled.

  “Good afternoon. Thanks for coming.”

  Julie’s reply froze on her lips. She must have had more on her mind last night than she realized. Had she really not noticed how gorgeous this man was? Her only excuse was he’d been wearing a hat the day before. Without it, she could see that his thick hair was a rich, dark brown. The eyes watching her with a hard-to-define expression lurking in their depths were a piercing green.

  He turned his movie-star smile in her companion’s direction. “How’s it going, Jordan? You’ll probably find my conversation with your mom boring. It would be a great help to me if you’d grab the Gatorade cooler out of my truck.”

  The thrill of being tossed a set of keys and given something more interesting to occupy him made Jordan forget everything else including the fact that Julie had been mistaken for his mother.

  “Yes, sir. Which one is yours?”

  “It’s the black one parked right by the gate. You can’t miss it.”

  “The F-150 with all the chrome?”

  Coach Gibson smiled faintly. “That’s the one.”

  Once Jordan had taken off at a dead run, Coach Gibson turned back to Julie, his eyes moving over her face again, almost as if he too was seeing her for the first time. If he was searching for a resemblance to Jordan, he was going to be disappointed. Jordan was the image of his father, brown-eyed with white-blonde hair cut close to his head. Julie, six years younger than Devon, had light blue eyes and curly, reddish blonde hair that refused to be subdued no matter how much hairspray or styling gel she used.

  “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Evans. I realized after you left yesterday that I f
orgot to introduce myself. I’m Eric Gibson.”

  Where had she heard that name before? “It’s Miss Evans, but you can call me Julie.”

  Something flickered briefly in his eyes. “The first thing I like to discuss is the time commitment that playing baseball involves. We’ll be practicing two to three evenings during the week and every Saturday afternoon.”

  Three evenings a week! There went her somewhat nonexistent social life. “That’s a lot of practices.”

  “Very necessary in order to teach thirteen boys to play as a team. Once the season starts, we don’t practice as often because we’ll be playing two games every week. Could you tell me Jordan’s shirt and pant sizes? I need those so I can order his uniform.”

  Julie grinned wryly. “I hate to admit this, but I don’t know. Can I get back to you on that?”

  Eric looked surprised by this admission. “That’s fine. I won’t be ordering anything until next week. Little league is built on volunteers, and we all have to pitch in to make it work. For the parents, that means helping out in the concession stand. I think our team is responsible for one evening and one Saturday game. If you can’t or don’t want to do it, you can get someone to take your place, but whoever you ask has to be at least fourteen years old.”

  “I don’t mind doing it,” Julie interjected. “It sounds like fun.”

  He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Once I get a team mom, she’ll be the one coordinating the concession stand, snacks for the team, team pictures and anything else that comes up. I need you to fill out this information card on Jordan and sign the attached waiver. Do you need a pen?”

  “No, thanks; I’ve got one in my purse.”

  ******

  As Eric waited on Miss Evans to finish, he thought back to the parent meeting a few days ago. Finding someone willing to be the team mom wasn’t going to be a problem. Picking the right person would be the challenge. The interest he garnered wasn’t solely because of his seven years playing in the major leagues. His notoriety was also due to his actions off the field.