Rob reclaims the tarp with both hands, and even though Hoff and I are way too proud to admit it, I think we both breathe a sigh of relief. The kid's as strong as an ox. We make it across first base, completely covering the infield, and the fans sitting in the seats with their ponchos and umbrellas start cheering and whistling their approval, some with their phones aimed right at us.
Giving them a big wave, I bump Hoff's arm. "See, old man. Wasn't that fun?"
He reluctantly raises his hand to acknowledge them. "Oh, a blast."
When a deafening crack of thunder booms overhead, Rob eyes the sky warily. "Okay, the Beavers' star player needs to get off the field, pronto."
"You mean me?" I rib him as we run alongside each other, leaving Hoff and his creaky catcher's knees in the dust.
I'm just about to overtake Rob's lumbering strides when I'm forced to pull up after he smacks the brim of my cap down over my eyes, blinding me.
He chuckles as he sprints by. "Don't worry. We have your back, Single. Nothing's gonna happen to you. Not this time."
I lift my head and kick the dirt with my foot. When I found out David Nichols was back in Triple-A, the last thing I wanted was for it to become a distraction. Being injured taught me a lesson in humility. I'm not the hitter I was before I got hurt; that much is certain. At .195, my batting average sounds more like an interstate number than a respectable baseball stat. And I refuse to be the weak link who holds the team back. David Nichols isn't going to hurt anyone else on the Beavers, not if I can help it.
I throw a hasty glance at section 110, and my stomach turns over when I don't see Mom anywhere. Relax, idiot. Roberta probably just moved her out of the rain somewhere. I wanted to get them tickets for tomorrow night's game against the Clash. With the threat of Nichols looming before me, I wanted them here with me for moral support. But Roberta talked me into letting them come tonight instead, insisting that she couldn't bear to watch me face Nichols again. And the thought of causing her any more distress strengthens my resolve for what I'm about to do.
I sit on the top step of the dugout and stare out at the tarp, and the idea taking shape in my mind is the one way I can solve this without any more violence. Dad was well-known for clowning around, juggling balls during warmups, racing Bucky Beaver in between innings. He was all about having fun and creating an atmosphere that's enjoyable for the fans. And right now, there are a lot of grumpy faces in the stands, thanks to yet another rainout.
That's not going to help Landry when it comes to doubling last year's attendance. And now I'm about to hijack tomorrow night's highly anticipated matchup, but maybe if something positive comes out of it, it'll appease his anger at me somewhat.
"Looking mighty fine, ninety-nine."
And there's Roberta, holding an umbrella over Mom's head and smiling at me from the row above the dugout.
"Ladies." I tip my cap at them. "The clouds just seem to open up around here whenever you two are in the house."
"Rain, rain, go away," Mom chants to herself. "Come again another day."
"That may be so, but it doesn't explain what the heck you're doing." Roberta raises an eyebrow at me as I kick off my cleats and proceed to remove my stirrups and socks.
"Landry wants to keep the fans happy, right?" I look up at her, a grin tugging at my lips. "Well, then someone has to give them a reason to be."
"What do you mean?" she demands as I push the pants of my uniform up and over my knees.
I stand, rubbing my hands together. "Baby, it's time to slip 'n slide."
Just when she realizes what I'm about to do, I run out of the dugout in my bare feet, taking heart when the guys on the field start cheering me on. They're so loud that the fans who are left pick up on it. Feeding off their energy, I jump over the pitcher's mound and belly flop across the slippery surface of the tarp. With water splashing up all around me, I spread my arms and legs and glide all the way to home plate. When I come to a complete stop, I prop myself up on my knees and wipe my face on the front of my uniform, raising a fist to the crowd. And they go crazy, a huge grin on each and every one of their faces.
And it feels good to make people smile, even though this isn't the kind of star player Landry's after. That's Rob—not me, not anymore. The torch has been passed. Now I'm just the guy coming off one of the most horrific injuries in baseball history. And with David Nichols's impending return to Beaver Field, that's something I don't want to be known for, just like Dad was so much more than Mr. Beaver.
But apparently the fans aren't done with me yet when another huge roar goes up from the crowd. I look up and quickly realize they're not cheering for me, not anymore. Instead, their attention is focused on whatever's going on behind me. I turn just in time to see Roberta come barreling toward me, her wet T-shirt clinging to her body, her mass of ringlets bouncing around her shoulders as she copies my dive, stretching out and completing a perfect slide.
She's laughing hysterically when she rolls over onto her back and squints up at the sky, the rain hitting her in the face full-on. I bend down to shield her as much as I can, looking into her eyes. "Roberta, what in the world did you do that for?"
Her eyes twinkle up at me. "Why did you?"
She has me there, but there's no time to discuss it. The security guards are starting to approach us, and she shouldn't be out here with me. Technically, she's not allowed. I wave them off, shouting, "It's okay. She's with me. She's my—"
And I can't believe I almost say…girlfriend.
She stares up at me, her chest rising and falling. "I'm you're what?" she asks coyly.
I need to stop while I'm ahead and leave it right there. We kissed. That's it. We never talked about it. I don't know what she's thinking, and I'm too afraid to find out.
I offer her my hand to help her up. "You're my…lifeboat."
"Wow, Luke. How poetic."
She wraps her fingers around mine, nearly pulling me down on top of her as I lose my footing. Dropping to my knees, one of my hands lands alongside her hip, while the one that's clasped tightly in hers comes to rest on her stomach. My heart is beating hard and fast. I can't breathe. With raindrops collecting on her skin, her hair, all over her body—I've never seen anyone look as beautiful as she does right now.
The crowd is hooting and hollering as they watch us, and my neck prickles in embarrassment. They expect me to kiss her. I know they do. But I don't want an audience. If we ever get around to picking up where we left off, it's going to be for us, not for them.
I brace myself, using the muscles in my legs this time so she can't get the upper hand on me, as I bring her to her feet. She clings to my bicep, and I keep it together somewhat until her other hand slides down my chest. I stare at her, wanting so much to touch her like she's touching me. But she backs away to wring out the ends of her hair.
Shot down, I look away, and the thought that's usually always at the forefront of my mind comes rushing to the surface. "Oh my God! Where's Mom?"
Roberta places her hand lightly in the center of my back. "Luke, I wouldn't have come out here if your friend Danny hadn't come over to say hello. She's fine."
I take a deep breath to steady myself. "Okay, why did you come out here? You still haven't given me an answer."
We head toward the dugout, and she crosses her arms in front of her, suddenly conscious of just how thin her T-shirt really is. "C'mon, Luke. You're just trying to get in trouble so you won't have to play in the series against the Clash. Am I right?"
I remove my cap and scratch the back of my head. "No…"
"Oh, really?" she confronts me. "Luke, it's okay to be scared, but you're not some joke, so don't act like one."
I cringe inwardly at her assessment, knowing that she's dead-on, but I don't feel like admitting that to her. "You sound like a psychiatrist," I groan.
"Well, I'm not, but I do know what it's like to be scared to death of someone."
What? Just who is she afraid of? She's not afraid of anybody. She's fearless. I wan
t to question her more, but I can't, not with Danny standing right there.
"I feel so left out." He pouts from underneath Mom's umbrella.
"Yeah, right. You're the only one who's still dry," I rib him. "Since you wouldn't even come out to help with the tarp."
"Hey, man." He shrugs, lifting the umbrella and causing Mom to grab his wrist and bring it right back down. "You know as a pitcher I don't have to do it. I gotta save my arm. All I need is to blow it out doing something stupid like that."
"Did you get hit too?" Mom asks, glancing up at him.
"Nah, Ma. He's just being a prima donna."
"He did, didn't he?" she continues. "He hit my Lukey. He hit her too."
She points at Roberta, and for the first time since I've known her, she looks downright terrified. "No…no, he didn't."
"Yes, he did." Mom stomps her foot. "He did… He did… He did!"
Contradicting Mom only ever seems to rile her up. Roberta knows that. So why'd she choose to do it now, when we're in public, no less?
"I think it's time to go," I mutter, casting a furtive glance around, hoping that nobody's watching her.
"But, dude," Danny argues as Roberta takes the umbrella from him. "You can't leave in your uniform. It's against the rules."
Good. Another infraction. I definitely won't be playing tomorrow.
I tuck Mom's arm under mine. "Oh, yeah? Watch me."
I glance at Roberta, but it's like she's lost somewhere inside her head. Yeah, she's disappointed in me for not copping to my fears, but it's not about me. It's about the safety of my teammates. I don't want them getting hurt in some brawl over me. But I wonder if that's all I did wrong. Is it also because I didn't kiss her out there? Luckily, I know how to rectify that. Just wait until we get home…
Chapter Twenty-Two
Roberta
My blood runs cold the minute we step out of Luke's Subaru.
"Hi, Mrs. Singleton! It's Heidi. Heidi Foster. Don't you remember me? I went to high school with your son."
"What's she doing here?" I mutter to Luke.
"I don't know, but she's not staying." He guides his mom over to me, letting his hands linger on both of our shoulders, like he's trying to draw whatever strength he can from us before having to deal with Heidi. "Take Mom inside for me, would ya? I'll get rid of her."
Up past her bedtime, Luke's mom nods against me, half asleep. She's basically incoherent at this point, and it's obvious she doesn't recognize Heidi. The last thing she needs right now is for her memory to be put to the test.
"What's wrong with your mom, Luke?" Heidi calls out as her heels click up the driveway. "She doesn't look too good. Is she sick or something?"
Luke reluctantly turns to face her. "Heidi, now's not a good time. You should go."
"But I came all the way over here to bring you these brownies." She holds up the box she's carrying. "I was slaving away all night. Aren't you at least gonna taste one?"
Under the porch light, the crease in Luke's brow deepens. "What did you do that for?"
I stick the key in the lock, but I turn back just in time to see her lay a hand on his arm. "To wish you luck, silly. You're going up against the guy who hit you tomorrow night, aren't you?"
He removes her hand from his arm. "Sorry, but I don't need a dozen store-bought brownies in order to do that."
She shoves the box against his chest. "So what if they are? You liked the one at Russo's well enough."
I snort from the porch, and she glares over at me.
"Who's she…the housekeeper?"
I stare her down, and she gives me a haughty little smirk through her perfectly applied lipstick.
But before I can really give it to her, Luke responds for me, "Drop it, Heidi. It's not your concern."
"So you're telling me she's your girlfriend? Funny how that never came up on our date."
"That's because our date wasn't real, Heidi. Or don't you know that?"
I wince; that's not the approach he should take with her. Getting her angry is only going to make her even more curious about me.
I open the front door for Luke's mom and let her enter in front of me. Should I go back out there or should I just stay out of it? Inwardly debating what I should do, I follow Mrs. S.'s shuffling feet into the living room and get her settled in front of the TV, keeping the volume on low so I can catch bits and pieces of what's going on out there through the partially open door. His mom's eyes are already starting to close as I draw an afghan over her legs. She's on the verge of drifting off. There's no way she's going to move from this couch, and I can't just leave Luke out there with Heidi as I listen to her fire off question after question at him. I have to help him get out of this jam. If I'm going to do this, now's the time.
With purpose, I stride across the room and back onto the porch. Shutting the door behind me, I interrupt her interrogation by calling out to her, "Yep, you guessed it. I'm the housekeeper."
Heidi raises her head and shoots me an icy glare, none too pleased with me for butting into what she assumed was a private conversation between her and Luke. "Really? Then why were you riding in the front seat of the car and not the back?" She smiles at me, her white teeth gleaming when I unknowingly fall right into the trap she set for me.
Luke fumbles for a reason. "My mom…likes to sit in the back."
"And you don't?" she asks, her attention riveted on me. "I'm sorry. What's your name again?"
Her phoniness sets my teeth on edge. "Roberta. Roberta Bennett."
She taps a finger to her lips. "Now why do you look so familiar? Have we met before?"
"I don't think so."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
She smiles smugly at me. "Interesting."
"What is?" Luke asks, getting overly defensive.
"I never forget a name, or a face. I'm sure I'll figure out how I know you eventually, Roberta. Then we'll have a good laugh over it, I'm sure."
A tremor of uncertainty enters my head. She can't know who I am, can she? It's not possible. Nobody knows that I was married to David, not even Landry.
She saunters closer to Luke, and before he even knows what she's doing, she places a hand on his shoulder, rises up on her toes, and kisses his cheek. "There's more where that came from." She steps back, grinning at him. "Call me."
Tossing her hair, she shoots me a contemptuous look, letting me know in no uncertain terms that it's on—it is so on. She's not giving up on Luke without a fight. She wants him, and she's determined to have him, regardless if I plan on stopping her or not. And a sharp stab of jealousy knifes me in the stomach when I realize she's so petite she had to stand on her tiptoes in order to kiss him. And that caveman side that's in every hot-blooded man had to find that flattering. Guys always prefer girls who are smaller than they are. It's Biology 101.
After she pulls away in a Volkswagen Jetta that's sickeningly the same shade of red as her lipstick, Luke strides down to the curb and throws the brownies inside one of the trash cans. He dusts off his hands, making me laugh. Okay, maybe he's not feeling her so much after all.
He stomps onto the porch, his jaw set in annoyance, and I can't resist teasing him, "I would've eaten those brownies if you didn't want them."
A welcome light enters his eyes as the corner of his mouth starts to twitch. "Now you tell me."
I laugh, and I'm glad when he does too. All I want to do is help him relax and not think about tomorrow. Lifting my arms, I grab on to his biceps and spin him around.
"What are you doing?" he asks, immediately tensing up now that my hands are on him.
"Loosening you up. You're a nervous wreck, Singleton." I grind my hands into his shoulders, ready to work out all the kinks.
As I continue to touch him, he takes on the same tortured stance that he did last night. I can feel the tension he's carrying in his muscles as I begin to give him a much-needed massage. It's like every time I go near him, he feels the need to hold himself back because of how I
've been rebuffing his advances. With the thought of David coming to town, I've been feeling so unsure of myself, giving in to my doubts about pursuing any kind of relationship with Luke. Now on the eve of the biggest night of his career, I have the poor guy all strung out. I have to fix it. I have to make it right.
But as soon as I rub the side of his neck, he groans like a man on the brink. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, but not before a breathy sigh escapes my lips. Hearing it, he turns his head ever so slightly, allowing the soft ends of his hair to brush against my fingertips, and I feel it deep down inside me. Splaying my hands, I take hold of him, increasing the pressure of my fingers. I bend my head and sigh when the back of his shirt skims across my forehead. He remains stock-still, yet there's a slight slackening of his posture, so I know my fingers are working their magic. But when I run my nails down the length of his back, he spreads his legs far apart and starts shifting his weight from foot to foot.
"Roberta," he whispers, fisting his hands at his sides. "Maybe we should…"
"Take this inside? I couldn't agree more."
In one fell swoop, he turns around and picks me up, and I blush when he cups my backside in his hands. I knew he was strong, but knowing it and experiencing it are two completely different things. I cross my ankles behind his back, locking my legs around his waist, and it's like I can't get close enough to him. I want more…so much more.
He opens the door and we step inside, and I can't help but whisper, "Luke, what about your mom?" My chest is pressed against his as he takes a deep breath, but he makes no move to put me down. Instead, he heads for the stairs. "Luke! We can't just leave her down here," I protest against his ear.
Reluctantly, he lowers me to my feet. "How long?"
I smile at what he's suggesting. "Twenty…thirty minutes, tops."
He runs his hand over his mouth as he stares at me. "Make it twenty."
I smack his elbow as my phone chimes through my handbag. "Ugh, I'd better get that. It could be Landry."
Knowing that Luke's watching me bend over, my face gets hot. I'm just about to answer it when a missed call message pops up onscreen.
Single (Stockton Beavers #1) Page 13