Her stomach roiled with anxiety. She blew out a breath. She was way overthinking this. Yes, David had shown himself to be a family man, someone his sister and nephew could count on. But that didn’t mean he was interested in anything more than tearing up the sheets with her. If she could keep what they’d done quiet, not let it happen again, her career should be fine.
Turning her head, she caught him with a smug grin crossing his face. She pulled the edge of the duvet up to cover her private bits. “What?”
“You screamed.”
She frowned. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
He only smiled wider. “I have a Little League game to coach. Mind if I take a shower?”
“Course not.” She cleared her throat. “The bathroom’s across the hall.”
He nodded, and gave her a brief kiss before leaping off the bed and disposing of the condom. David looked like he was ready to take on a triathlon, and all Connie wanted to do was curl up and hide beneath the covers.
He walked to her open door and glanced down the hall. She gripped the duvet tighter. What if her dad had come home early? She thought it was men who were supposed to get stupid around sex, but she’d only been using half her brain since David had leapt over Milo’s fence.
She snuggled into her comforter, her gaze dropping from his wide, muscular shoulders to his narrow waist. She bit her lip and let her eyes drift further south. His bathing suit didn’t lie. He had a spectacular ass.
He turned around, and Connie was left looking at something equally spectacular.
David cleared his throat. The crinkle around his eyes told Connie that she’d been caught peeking.
She pushed back any embarrassment. She’d just been intimate with this man. Sneaking a peek now was hardly a crime. “The towels are on the shelf above the toilet. You can’t miss them.”
“Drying off isn’t the issue.” Leaning against the door frame, he crossed his arms over his chest, looking as natural standing in her bedroom naked as he did in his office in a suit and tie. Her mouth watered. “I need someone to wash my back for me. Can I interest you in the job?”
She pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and index finger and considered. The damage was done. She’d already slept with him. Once more would hardly matter. Besides, he’d gotten all hot and sweaty because of her. It only seemed right that she clean up her mess.
Throwing back the covers, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. The appreciative glint in his eye gave her the confidence to add a little more swing to her hips than normal when she crossed the room.
With a sound deep in his throat, David wrapped his arms around her and crossed the hall, carrying her in a bear hug. He kicked the door to the bathroom open, and it bounced off the far wall and ricocheted shut, smacking into her butt.
She couldn’t help but laugh at his chagrined expression. Reaching behind her, she turned the knob and softly swung the door open. “Be nice to the door and the door will be nice to you.”
“Yeah, I’ve been getting that lesson a lot lately,” he grumbled. But after he placed her in the tub, he closed the door with a gentle snick, locking it behind him. He stalked toward her, and turned on the water.
She jumped back from the icy spray with a shriek.
He climbed into the space she made. “Now, does the same go for you?” He pressed his hands into the tile wall, caging her in. “If I’m nice to you, will you be nice to me?”
She grabbed the back of his neck, threading her fingers into his soft hair. “Only one way to find out.”
Chapter Eighteen
David finished his lineup card, and looked at the other team warming up on the field. He’d already hit balls out to his kids. But the Panthers hadn’t fielded the ball quite like their opponents were doing. In fact, more balls had rolled into the outfield than into their gloves.
He tried to dredge up some annoyance that the kids hadn’t followed his instructions to practice at home. But even a two-by-four to the knee couldn’t douse his good mood right now. He’d had Connie, and it had been better than he’d ever imagined. And he’d imagined it a lot.
The fence in front of him rattled. Bobby bent to pick up the ball he’d been bouncing off the bench’s protective cage. “I think I’m getting better. That would have definitely hit you in the face if the fence wasn’t there.”
Lee’s kid was actually one who had practiced. Probably by throwing the ball at an image of David. “That’s great.” His voice showed a decided lack of enthusiasm.
Lacing the fingers of his free hand through the chain-link, Bobby cocked his head, the move so like Lee’s, David had to bite back a smile. “My dad said the Lions are going to crush us.”
David narrowed his eyes. “He said that to you?” Of all the low-down, authority-undermining moves.
“Well…” Bobby swiped the top of his wrist under his nose, leaving a brown smudge. “I heard him telling Mom that. He told me to do my best.”
David was only slightly mollified. He’d played ball in college, and been damn good. The fact that his foreman didn’t think he was good enough to bring the Panthers a victory was insulting. The other team’s shortstop cleanly fielded a ground ball, threw it to the second baseman, who in turn threw it to first. A neat double-play. The Panthers’ fielders could barely get one.
He blew out a breath. Yeah, they were going to get crushed. But it would be all right. The kids would all have fun. And it wasn’t like Lee had coached them into a winning team.
The other team left the field and went into a huddle by their bench. Their coach leaned down to talk with them.
Standing, David shoved the lineup into the back pocket of his jeans, and left the cage. “Uh, all right, everyone gather round.” It took a minute, but all the kids rambled over to form a loose circle.
“Okay, this is my first time coaching a game so I’m not sure what exactly to say.” He thought back to his own Little League days, but only remembered the joy of the game, not any of his coach’s pep talks. “So, I guess, remember what we went over this week, stay low on the ball, uh…”
Tall, Gangly Kid—Cedric, David reminded himself—pushed his tongue into his cheek. “How about telling us who’s starting? What the lineup is. Things like that.” Dumbass. That last word Cedric only spoke with his eyes.
David’s shoulders inched closer to his ears. Connie would laugh if she could see him getting bullied by a bunch of twelve-year-olds. And just like that, his muscles unclenched. His body slipped back into post-Connie mode, relaxed and happy. Snarky pre-teens didn’t stand a chance against the memory of how good it had felt to finally have the woman of his dreams.
“Okay, I’ll post the lineup on the cage.” He read off the names of his nine best players, told them what position to take. “Now, work together, play hard, and above all else—”
“Can I get your lineup?” a voice asked behind him.
David whirled, surprise slackening his jaw when he saw who stood behind him in umpire’s gear. “Judge Nichols? You’re umping this game?”
The man nodded, tufts of white hair peeking out from beneath the mask that rested on top of his head. “I’m behind home plate, and Joe Rodriguez is in the field.”
David turned to where he pointed and saw the founding member of CCWP. The man glared back. Perfect. Just freaking perfect.
Handing the judge the wrinkled lineup card, he shook his head. “Life in a small town.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” David shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just surprised to see you here.” Crap, he’d asked Connie to come to the game. She’d said she’d probably have to work to make up for her lost time that afternoon, but there was still a chance.
He swallowed. He couldn’t be the reason she got in trouble.
The skin around the judge’s sky-blue eyes crinkled. “You’re not the only one who’s surprised. I’d heard that you stepped in to coach when Lee got hurt, bu
t I don’t know that I believed it.” He nodded approvingly. “It’s nice to see you outside the courtroom.”
David couldn’t say the same. “Well, I’d better get back to my pep talk.”
The judge looked past his shoulder. “Good luck with that,” he said, and strolled to home plate.
David turned. The Panthers had already taken the field, not waiting around to hear any pearls of wisdom. Pressing his lips together, he joined the rest of the team on the bench. Several faces in the bleachers caught his eye. An employee he’d fired for stealing materials. A customer who hadn’t wanted to pay the agreed upon amount. And no less than three members of CCWP.
“Does everyone have a kid?” he muttered. Christ, he was surrounded by unfriendly faces. The only person he wanted to see was the one he now hoped didn’t show up. Connie could explain her presence away as just showing support for her clients and their kids. But he didn’t know if he could keep the secret, as well. If he saw her, he’d want to touch her, and if he touched her he’d want to taste her. And if he tasted her…
He shifted on the metal bench. He needed to stop thinking about Connie. He had a game to coach, and she was the definition of the word distracting.
“Here.” Bobby handed him a worn Panthers ball cap. “Pop said he didn’t have time to order you a new one. So you’re wearing his hat.”
David took it, but hesitated before putting it on. He searched out Lee and Maureen in the stands. They were watching the action on the field. Tufts of Lee’s carrot-colored hair stuck out from under a black Carelli Construction cap that had been given out three years ago at the employee barbeque. The brim of the hat was one rigid line, looking as though this was the first time it had ever been worn.
His foreman looked into the bench, and David raised the Panthers cap. It was fairly disgusting. A brown stain rimmed the sweatband, and a hole on the bill of the cap exposed the cardboard stiffener in the center. But when Lee nodded, and David slapped the thing on his head, he sat taller on the bench. He was the coach.
Turning back to the field, he watched Cedric throw out the first pitch. The opposing team hit a double. “That’s okay.” David stood and leaned against the opening to the metal cage. He directed his infield to shift over a couple of feet. The next kid up slammed a homerun over the fence.
“Crap.” He didn’t even know twelve-year-olds could hit that far. His couldn’t. “That’s okay,” he shouted. By the end of the first inning, he had said “that’s okay” so many times, his tongue had started to go numb. The boys came back to the bench, shoulders sagging. He tried to cheer them up, slapping some shoulders, repeating his “that’s okay” mantra. But he had to admit, he was shit at it. He didn’t do inspiration.
David made a couple of lineup changes, forced a smile for the kids, and settled in for the torture that was the next inning. Halfway through the game, he knew he had to adjust his expectations before his skyrocketing blood pressure made his head explode.
Big picture, they weren’t going to win the game. So David had to just enjoy the small victories, like when his team made a textbook relay home and tagged out what would have been the Lions’ ninth run. Or the swinging bunt that put one of his boys on first. And he took lots of notes, trying to figure out which aspect of play to concentrate on during next practice.
The sound of the aluminum bat clanging when it made contact with the ball soothed David’s nerves. All though high school and college, he’d spent hours each day surrounded by the high-pitched ping a metal bat made on contact. It was a sound he realized he missed. It reminded him of the joy he’d felt playing ball. The fun he’d had. Unfortunately, he was only hearing it when the Lions were up to bat. But he and the Panthers would work on that.
“Hey, Carelli!” someone shouted from up in the bleachers. “Your team stinks as much as your new doghouse.”
David rolled his shoulders, and refused to look for whichever parent and CCWP member was the heckler. He watched Bobby trudge from the batting circle to the batter’s box, his dragging feet kicking up dirt. Bobby was one of the better fielders on the team, but his offense was nothing to write home about. It wasn’t a surprise when he went down on three wild swings.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he forced a smile for the kid and made a note to himself to concentrate on batting practice for Bobby. “It’s okay, you’ll get ’em next time.”
“Sure.” The kid got his glove and slunk out onto the field.
David knew how Bobby felt. As the game wore on, more and more people shouted insults at him. Most of them referenced dogs or compared his coaching to dog-created products. David was used to swearing. He worked in construction, after all. But the language being used in front of his kids was raising his body temperature to nuclear proportions.
CCWP members littered the stands, and David knew most of the trash-talk was coming from them. But others had joined in their fun. Every one of them would love to take David down, and the sick feeling that spread in his gut told him that Connie was in a prime position to get hit by the crossfire if their relationship became public knowledge.
By the time his last player struck out, it was a blessing. He got in the high-five line behind his team to congratulate the Lions. But before his team could scatter, he called them all into a huddle around the pitcher’s mound. “Hey, I know it’s never fun to get thrashed, but this was a good learning exercise. We can see what we need to work on. I promise, before next week’s game we’ll get a lot of practice in and we’ll show everyone what we’ve got.”
He wouldn’t promise that they’d win, but they’d make a better showing, that was for damn sure. Shut up some of those asshole parents in the stands. The blood simmered in his veins. They didn’t like him, fine. But their taunts hadn’t only insulted him. They’d heckled the team. Kids. And that pissed him off.
A few of the prime perpetrators stood in a group with other parents of the opposing team. Judge Nichols laughed at something one of the parents said, and all David could think was that this was a good learning exercise for him, too.
His euphoria as he’d left Connie’s house was nothing but a cruel joke. He couldn’t have her, not really. Not yet. Because if the judge, or Sue, or any of those jerks from CCWP found out about them, there would be hell to pay.
And David was under no illusions about who would bear the brunt of that hell the most. He clenched his hands around his clipboard, his fingers going numb. For Connie’s sake, he had to back off. Nostrils flaring, he gathered his things and stomped to his car.
It was going to kill him to stay away. He thought of Connie, of her offhand goodbye when he’d left her house that afternoon. The anger firing in his veins cooled. Maybe he shouldn’t be worrying about how hard it was going to be to back off. Not when there was a real possibility that Connie might not care if he didn’t call.
He’d wanted Connie ever since he’d first grown hair on his chest. But her attraction to him was brand new. She couldn’t possibly want him as much as he wanted her. Was she even thinking there would be a next time? Maybe this relationship he was so concerned about keeping quiet for Connie’s sake only existed in his own mind.
Chapter Nineteen
Connie scratched behind Shep’s floppy ears before entering The Pantry. The dog stared mournfully into the café from his post tethered to the parking meter in front of the restaurant. The aromas that hit Connie’s nose when she opened the door were enough to make her mouth water. She could only imagine what effect they had on the poor dog.
Two four-tops had been pushed together in the middle of the restaurant, and Allison sat at the head talking to her volunteers for the food booths. Connie slipped into the one free seat next to Miss Eugenie. The woman’s sharp elbow jabbed into Connie’s ribs as she knitted what looked like a Shep-sized sweater. The elbow hit her again, and Connie understood why the seat was vacant. She scooted her chair to the right until her thigh butted up against Jerome’s uniform.
“Well, hello.” T
he dark skin around his eyes crinkled, and he leaned close to speak in a low voice. “Are you happy to see me, or just trying to avoid getting stabbed?” He nodded at Miss Eugenie’s knitting needles, which flashed in the afternoon sun as they darted in and out of the purple yarn.
“Can’t it be both?” She reached for one of the pitchers of ice tea on the table and poured herself a glass. “I didn’t know you were volunteering at a food booth. Aren’t you also on patrol?”
Deborah Garcia leaned around Miss Eugenie. Her blouse gaped between the buttons that clung for life at her chest. Her bosom quivered with her snort. “He’s trying to avoid his fate by keeping busy at a food booth.” She pinned him with a dark look. “But his duty lies elsewhere.”
He breathed heavily through his nose. “It’s not my duty to sit in the dunk-tank. The chief asked us all to volunteer when we went off duty, but he didn’t say what it had to be. I’m volunteering at the grill.”
Miss Eugenie lowered her needles. “You know we need people in positions of authority for the tank. Police, firemen, teachers. Those are the people the kids want to dunk. Anyone can flip hamburgers.”
“Since I came in on the tail end of that conversation, I’m not going to get offended by that statement,” Allison said. “But we do need to get down to business. I’m sending around the sign-up sheet again, and I hope you all can add your names in at least one more slot.” She pulled one of her blonde curls out straight and let it bounce back. “We, uh, don’t have quite enough volunteers to fill the booths for all the shifts.”
Connie looked around the table. “Is this it? Eight volunteers for four booths?” Connie chewed on her lower lip. The cotton candy and the shaved ice booth could run with two volunteers each, but the main food booths took a lot more people to man. Positioned at each end of the midway, the booths had identical menus of grilled hamburgers, hot dogs, sausages, and tri tip steak sandwiches, Connie’s personal favorite. It probably took three to four people at each booth’s grill, a couple people to wrap up the meat in buns and tinfoil, and some people to take tickets and deliver the food. And that wasn’t even counting the people for the beer and soda…
Why Did It Have to Be You? Page 19