by Judi Fennell
Jared fidgeted next to her, almost as if he was embarrassed . . . or worried that those would be his only stats because of his injury.
And once again, her heart went out to him. She was never going to get over him.
“Please welcome Jared Nolan.” Ted led the crowd in applause and Jared sucked up his emotions at hearing what he’d done while wondering if he’d get the chance to do more, then took the podium.
“Thank you all for coming out today. I’m proud to have been asked to participate in today’s ceremony. As Ted said, I did get my start in baseball right here in our T-ball league, so I’m thrilled to be able to give back.” He went on to praise the fund-raising organizers, the donators, the staff for making the well-being of the community a priority with all the activities and services the community center offered. He was sure to mention Kareers for Kids, and tossed Mac’s name in the mix while sweeping his hand toward her, working promotion in for her business as smoothly as he’d worked sponsors’ names into any interview he’d done. This was old hat; this was what Jared knew. What he was good at.
God, what if management wouldn’t take him back? What if, at thirty-five and with these injuries, they thought he wasn’t worth the risk? That he couldn’t be what he’d been?
It’d kill him. Baseball was all he had. All of these people, they were here because of who he was. Because of what he did for a living. Once it was over, why would they bother?
Why would you want them to? Do they define you?
Thankfully, he’d finished his speech before that little pearl of wisdom bit him in the brain.
No, they didn’t define him. He defined him. But he’d defined himself through baseball; he wasn’t sure who he’d be if he didn’t have the game.
He looked into the audience as they handed him the oversized ceremonial ribbon-cutting scissors. Bryan’s seat was empty; he’d called and said something had come up with the kids at the house he was cleaning, but Grandma was there along with Mrs. Manley. And then there was Mac.
The people who cared about him.
He sliced the ribbon, feeling that same slice in his heart that his parents weren’t there.
Mac was right; he needed to talk to them. For so long he’d used the game as his family. His teammates, the coaching staff, the fans, even the reporters. He knew the regulars by name, and most by sight. He played to them, knowing he’d get validation even if it was just for their story. Validation he hadn’t gotten from his parents.
Jared smiled through the pictures, his arm around the director and his staff, but his mind was elsewhere.
For years he’d wanted his parents’ approval. Had thought baseball was the way to get it. But even with his success, they hadn’t chosen to be there for him when he’d needed it most. He’d stared at those goddamn white walls of his room at the rehab facility, wondering what the hell he’d have to do to get them to show up.
In the end, if a serious injury wasn’t it, he didn’t know what would be.
But Grandma had come. Mrs. Manley had, too. Liam and the guys . . . He understood why Mac hadn’t, but she had sent cookies with Liam that one time . . .
He glanced at her. She was leaning over her grandmother to speak to his, reaching for Grandma’s hand, her smile warm and loving and genuine.
Why hadn’t he seen this about Mac before? Why had he been so blinded by resentment that he hadn’t been able to see what a genuine person she was? Why had he tossed her feelings back in her face?
Because you were in college. Shit happens. Don’t beat yourself up about it, fix it.
He planned to.
He finished up with the photo op, patted the director on the back, shook a few hands, then ate up the distance between him and Mac with a couple of long swings between his crutches. The things were worth something at last.
“Hey, you ready to get going?” he asked when he reached her side. “I’m sure the kittens have left me some gifts.”
“Oh, but, Jared,” said Grandma. “We wanted to speak to someone about the classes for seniors they offer. We’d like to see if they could do them at our community room. So many of our residents don’t travel, and they’re missing out.”
He’d like to get out of here and spend some alone time with Mac, but he could wait a little longer for his grandmother. “Let’s go talk to the director. If it’s an issue with money, tell him I’ll cover the cost.”
“You will?” Grandma beamed at him.
He had to hug her. So many times she’d hugged him when he’d needed it and his mother hadn’t been around . . . If he could do this small thing for her and make her happy, he was more than willing to do it. “Of course. You ladies deserve some fun in your life.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you, Jared. You always were such a thoughtful boy.”
Mac coughed beside him.
He shot her a glance. Yeah, he got it. Thoughtful with everyone but her. He was going to make that up to her.
He called out to the director and put him in touch with his grandmother and Mrs. Manley. “Whatever they want, Ted,” he said as he turned to face Mac, leaving the grandmothers to work their collective persuasive powers on the director. “Want to get some ice cream?”
She cocked her head and looked at him thoughtfully, as if ice cream were a major life decision.
Or maybe it was just a metaphor for one.
“Okay. You’re on.”
Uh, yeah, he kinda was . . .
It only took them a half hour to reach the ice cream booth across the football field, which was about two hundred autographs later. “Sorry about that,” he said when the last kid finally left.
“Don’t apologize. Those are your fans. They loved it. Who am I to disappoint them?”
“The woman who’s patiently waiting for the ice cream I promised her.”
“That woman can wait. I like watching the kids, especially as you give them your autograph. Their own personal hero come to life.”
“Geez, Mac, better watch it or I’ll get a big head.”
“I said that was the kids’ impression. Don’t worry, Jared, you’ve got me to give you a reality check.”
He liked that. “Keeping me grounded, huh?”
“Someone has to. Between you and Bryan, the two of you could fill a stadium with your hot air if I wasn’t around to keep your egos in check.”
He wanted to reach for her hand, but didn’t because he’d only have to let it go when they started walking again. Besides, he had the rest of his life to hold her hand—
He stumbled.
“Jared!” Mac’s arm went around him, steadying him.
Well, not really. That’s what she might have done it for, but the touch of her hands on his skin made him anything but steady.
This was so not the place. Especially when there were three camera lenses aimed at him that he could see, and probably half a dozen more he couldn’t.
He dragged his stupid crutch to vertical and propped it under his arm, thereby disengaging himself from Mac’s embrace. He didn’t want their relationship, for lack of a better word, played out in the media for everyone to see. Not at first anyway, though he’d love to shout from the rooftops that he’d finally come to his senses, but he should probably discuss it with her first.
“What would you like?” he asked when it was their turn to order their ice cream.
“I’ll take a chocolate dip top on vanilla.”
So not the answer he’d wanted.
Jared chuckled to himself.
Pathetic, man. Get a freaking grip.
He’d like to—on her and then sweep her off her feet.
“And you, sir? What would you like?” asked the teenage server.
He had to force himself not to spout exactly what he would like. “Ah—”
“He’ll have a double chocolate cone with chocolate sprinkles.”
Jared looked at her. It was what he always ordered. “You really were paying attention.”
She shrugged then looked away, pink creeping across her cheeks. “Some things stay with you.”
He couldn’t help himself; he ran a finger down her forearm. “I’m glad you did, Mac.”
She glanced at him, those green eyes flashing uncertainly, and Jared wanted to kick himself for all the things he hadn’t appreciated about her.
“I’m sorry, Mac.”
She shook her head and waved her hand, blinking a little too fast. “Don’t. I’m fine.”
The teenager handed Mac her ice cream and he couldn’t blame her for walking away from the cart.
He fished out a couple of bucks to pay, grabbed his ice cream and—
Shit. Now how the hell was he going to use his crutches and hold the cone?
“Mac?”
She turned around with a look on her face that grabbed him by the heart and twisted, but then she looked at his cone and smiled.
“Hang on, Nolan.” She strode back to him, plucked the cone from him, and jerked her head toward a bench. “Seriously, what would you do without me?”
It was a rhetorical question, but he was going to answer it anyway.
He followed her to the bench and sat down, leaning his crutches against it, then took his cone. “I don’t want to find out what I’d do without you, Mac.”
“Huh?” She stopped eating her cone mid-lick.
He cleared his throat to get that image out of his brain. “I was an idiot all those years and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you and I’m sorry for not appreciating you.”
“Where’d this change of heart come from?”
He winced at her sarcasm, but he knew where it came from. When Mac was hurt, she either yelled and called him an idiot, or she came at him with sarcasm.
He knew because he’d invariably been the one to hurt her, a realization he wasn’t proud of.
“Let’s just say that I finally grew up.”
Her gaze flicked over him. “Or it’s because you’re injured and bored and lonely and I just happen to be handy—”
“Don’t.” He put a finger on her lips. “Don’t denigrate this, please. This is a big deal for me. You’re a big deal for me and I’m an ass not to have seen it sooner. This isn’t because you’re here and I’m lonely. It’s because you’re here and you’re you and I finally see that. Would I be feeling like this if we hadn’t seen each other day in, day out for the past two weeks? I don’t know. I’ve been so focused on this injury and what it means for my career that I wasn’t looking around. That’s why I know this is real; you crept beneath my barriers.”
“Oh, hey! Look who’s over there! Yoo, hoo! Jared!”
Some woman was waving at him from the other side of the football field, her loud voice guaranteed to catch everyone’s attention.
Jared bit back a curse. He loved his fans. Even if it meant interrupting him, but this was one of the most important moments of his life and he could do without the attention.
He squeezed Mac’s shoulder. “Can we put this discussion on hold until later? I have a lot I want to say to you, Mac. And I hope like hell you want to hear it.”
Mac wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. Was this the same guy who’d told her to sleep with his friend? She didn’t get it.
But she had more than enough time to try to as she sat beside him through another autograph session, holding his ice cream cone and then eating it when the fans multiplied.
Luckily, the grandmothers showed up after a bit, and the fans parted like the Red Sea then drifted off when they realized who the women were.
“Hi, Grandma. Mrs. Manley.” Jared leaned down to peck them on the cheek, and Mac could hear a collective sigh from his female fans as they left.
She smiled to herself. If those women only knew he’d kissed her, too. And not on the cheek.
Damn, she could feel the blush creep up her cheeks at the memory.
“Mary-Alice?” Gran was looking at her expectantly.
Fudge. She’d missed Gran’s question. “Yes, Gran?”
“Oh, good. Then that’s settled.”
“What’s settled?” She looked at Jared for help, but he just arched an eyebrow.
“The beach party of course.”
“What beach party?”
Gran patted her arm. “The one we’re having in the community room. My friends are going to love to see you again. And Jared, too, of course.”
“Of course,” said Mildred.
Mac wasn’t sure she was up to spending more time with him after that cryptic comment. It’d come out of left field and she could use some time to adjust to his change in attitude before she did something stupid like play her what-if games again.
“I’m so glad you’ll come, Mary-Alice.” Gran gave her a quick squeeze. “I missed you at dinner the other night with the boys.”
She’d had to work and Gran had known that, so it wasn’t fair to use it as leverage.
But that was how, six hours later, Mac had helped set up for the dinner, limbo’ed herself to a trophy—not that big of a deal, considering she was the youngest one there and one of the few without a walker—danced the hula so much she was surprised the older women with her hadn’t thrown out a hip, and had enough virgin mai tais to actually regain her virginity. Well, except for the fact that she’d felt Jared’s eyes on her the entire time and there was nothing virginal about the way he was looking at her.
Or the way he was making her feel. Especially on the heels of his earlier apology.
“We should get going, Mac.” Jared drained the last of his virgin margarita. “I left some soft food for the kittens but I’m not sure they know how to eat it. I should probably go home and feed them.”
Which meant that she had to drive him there.
She wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. Because she still hadn’t figured out where his change of heart was coming from.
And because she might not want to leave.
* * *
YOU were a dancing fiend tonight,” Jared said with that killer smile of his when he got into his truck’s cab.
“I prefer dancing queen. Sounds more dignified.” She pulled on her seat belt. No temptation to slide across the seat in case he continued saying things like he’d said back on the bench earlier.
“Since when is the limbo dignified?”
Jared had a point there. She’d won the contest because she was the only one without arthritis.
He ran a finger along her shoulder. “I had fun tonight, Mac.”
Oh boy. Jared in this mood was tough to resist. “Me, too.”
“We should do it again.”
“Not sure when or where the next limbo contest is, but I’ll keep an eye out.” She was trying to keep this light because being alone with him in the car, and the darkness, and the sound of the crickets through the open windows were creating an ambiance she wasn’t ready for.
Nor was Jared’s invitation when she pulled into his driveway. “Will you come in, Mac?” Jared tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
The shivers racing through her body urged her to say yes. But her battered heart was throwing CAUTION signs all over the place.
“I don’t think I should, Jared.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “I get that.”
He stared at her awhile longer, his gaze darting to her lips.
He wanted to kiss her.
She wanted to let him.
Instead, she opened his truck door and slid out. She’d been down that road too many times. She had to know Jared meant it before she let herself go there. And right now, she wasn’t sure. “I have to get going. I have a busy day tomorrow.”
“I thought you didn’t work on Sunday.”
“I don’t work
for other people, but I have paperwork and my own place to do. When you work for yourself, you never get a day off.”
“Just remember, all work and no play . . .”
Jared would be the play part and it was so hard to walk away from that.
Which was why she did.
Chapter Twenty-three
JARED’S butt was the first thing Mac saw when she walked into the attic Monday morning.
Not a bad way to start the week.
“Moon out early today?” Sean snickered over her shoulder.
Jared had apparently been busy yesterday and gone through the attic like a tornado. Still no ring, but a bunch of the stuff was ready to go and Sean was the only one of her brothers free to lend a hand today.
“Oooph!” Jared bashed his head on the sofa he was crawling under.
“Careful, Jare,” said Sean, skirting around Mac and lifting the sofa. “I hear professional athletes lose brain cells faster than the rest of us.”
“Only the young and stupid ones. Those of us more mature to the game have a better head on our shoulders.” He rubbed the top of his. “A sore one, perhaps, but still, better.” He set Moe on the cushion, then held out his hand to shake Sean’s. “So you’re the moving crew?”
“Ahem.” Mac spoke up. She was perfectly capable of moving furniture.
“Mac and I.” Sean nudged Jared’s bad leg. “Since you’re in no shape to do it, figured we’d better before you do something foolish like try to carry it all down on one leg.”
“I’m not foolish.”
“Stubborn . . . foolish . . . Same thing.”
“You’re only saying that because you know I can’t kick your ass now. Just wait until I’m healed.”
“Then you still won’t because you’ll be worried about breaking something else, old man.”
Jared handed Moe to Mac. “Here. She escaped again. I swear, this little lady is going to be the death of me.”
Mac bit off her smile and took the kitten back down to its brothers. Jared had come a long way from not knowing how to take care of them.
If he changed in that way, could he change in another?
“Wow, I remember this.” Sean was holding up a hideous clown when she returned.