Single (Stockton Beavers #1)

by Collette West

  Luke exhales, sliding my burger onto a plate. When he turns around, he walks straight toward me before kneeling at my feet. "I don't want you ever to think that I'm like them. You're free to do whatever you want. I'd never presume to tell you what you can and cannot do."

  I wink at him, taking the plate from him. "Good, because I'd like to eat my burger now."

  He leans forward and kisses the tip of my nose. "Get ready because it's the first of many I plan on making you this summer." He stands up as I take a bite, aware of how I tend to back away from too much sentimentality. "How is it?"

  "I think summer just became my new favorite season," I say through a delicious mouthful.

  He gives me a loving glance, one I don't turn away from, one I allow myself the pleasure of basking in.

  "I know it's my favorite season. It's the one that brought me to you."

  I pause with the burger halfway to my lips. "But we met in April. That's in the spring."

  He stops squeezing mustard onto his hot dog. "Yeah, well… I've always considered the start of the baseball season to be the start of summer anyway. And summer just has an all-around happier vibe to it, don't you think? Freedom from school…"

  "It's been a long time since I've had to worry about school."

  "Well, someday when you're an old married lady with kids of your own—"

  I hurry to interrupt him. "How about we just stick with liking summer for summer's sake?"

  "Fine, fine, fine," he says, sitting in the chair next to me. "Let's just say it can be a season blissfully free of responsibility."

  The baby monitor cackles to life. "Lukey…?"

  He sighs, "Except for Mom."

  I chuckle, getting to my feet. "I'm on it."

  "Are you sure?" he asks. "You didn't even get to finish your burger."

  "Positive. Your mom's the one responsibility I'd never give up, not even for the lazy days of summer."

  "I love you," he whispers, his eyes shining up at me.

  I give his shoulder a quick squeeze as I hurry by him. I can't even find my voice to tell him that I love him too as I blink back the tears that are threatening to spill forth. I rush into the house with the implications of Luke's dream of having kids and starting a family running through my head. I start to tremble, knowing I'll never be able to give him the happy, tranquil summer he's imagining.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Luke

  Six weeks later

  "You're gonna keep all these women away from me, right?" I ask, shifting Roberta onto my lap from where she's standing in front of me at the bar.

  She leans back, dusting her lips along my jawline. "I don't think Landry would like it too much if I kept the Beavers' hottest hitter all to myself."

  I laugh, tilting my lips closer to hers. "Well, you can tell Landry to—"

  Before I can say anything else, she kisses me and I immediately lose all sense of time and place. I don't care if anyone's watching or that there's a line of fans, patiently waiting for me to amble over to the autograph table that's set up in the corner. Instead, I slide her sideways on my lap and groan as she snakes a hand behind my head to play with my hair. I'm in the midst of tasting the sweet goodness of what remains of the strawberry daiquiri on her lips when Danny whistles sharply in my ear.

  "All right, enough love birds!" He claps his hands while waiting for us to separate. "C'mon, up and at 'em, Single. I don't feel like doing this meet-and-greet with a bunch of inebriated fans either, but I'm damn well not doing it alone."

  Heat fills my face, so Roberta has to speak for me. "He'll be right with you." She smiles, her arm still wrapped possessively around my neck. "In the meantime, why don't you go over and warm up the crowd? I'm sure they're dying to find out if that beard of yours is real or not."

  His hand flies to the red scruff that's hanging a good six inches beneath his chin. "Nobody's touching the beard. Why does everyone think they have the right to pull on it? It hurts!"

  I chuckle into Roberta's curls as he makes his way through the cluttered tables surrounding the bar. When he finally reaches his destination, a rousing cheer goes up, cutting through the blaring music and the multiple TVs on all the walls, showing practically every major-league game going on right now.

  "Aren't you glad you stayed in Stockton?" I tease her. "So your boyfriend can do stuff like this on his night off instead of spending it with you?"

  "You are spending it with me," she protests. "Mrs. Jenkins is holding down the fort so we can have a night out together."

  "But this isn't my idea of a night out," I grumble when she slides off my lap.

  Putting her hands on her hips, she asks, "And what is? Dining à la food truck?"

  I smirk, loving when she gets sassy with me. "You know what I mean."

  She takes another sip of her daiquiri. "We all have our responsibilities, Luke. And these meet-the-player events at the local bars are a part of yours."

  I stand, placing my hands on her waist and drawing her into me. "But are they really driving the hard-working people of Stockton to come spend their money at Beaver Field?"

  Smiling up at me, she shakes her head. "Probably not. But the winning streak you guys have put together? Now that's something I can get behind." She caresses the scar on my neck with her fingers. "'Cause even though I'm putting on a brave face, I don't particularly enjoy sharing you with a bunch of drunk, horny women."

  Staring down at her, I peer into her bright, blue eyes. "I wish you didn't have to. But you have nothing to worry about. I'm not like—"

  She presses her fingers to my lips. "Shhhh, you don't have to say it. I already know you're nothing like him."

  And there it is, the elephant in the room. David Nichols is due back in town in the next few hours, which is why I insisted on her coming with me tonight. I'm not about to let her out of my sight for a moment. All week long, she's been trying to hide her anxiety from me, but based on the amount of kicking she's been doing in her sleep, her nightmares have come back full force. She's about as emotionally prepared for his return to Stockton as I am—with one crucial difference. I'm not afraid of having him pitch to me anymore. In fact, I'm more afraid of not being able to control myself when he does. I wanted no part of him before. But things are different now. It's not about what he did to me. It's about what he did to her.

  I cup her face in my hand. "I'm going to keep you safe, Roberta. He won't get within ten feet of you. I promise."

  Her eyes shine up at me. "You mean business if you're calling me Roberta again."

  I sigh, running my hands down her arms. "I'm serious. I wish you'd bring Mom to the game tomorrow night."

  She shrugs. "C'mon, Luke. What could possibly happen? He's going to be at the game, too. We'll be fine."

  Needing her to reassure me some more, I take her hands in mine. "That may be, but I still don't like it."

  She gives them a tender squeeze, lacing her fingers through mine, and I swear there's no better feeling in the world. "Luke, we've already discussed this. Anything could happen at the stadium. He could be waiting for me in the parking lot. He could walk right into the stands if he wanted to. You can't protect me there. Trust me. Your home is a much safer environment."

  I nuzzle her nose as her breath dances across my lips. "Yeah, but it's your home now, too."

  "Then let me stay at home if I want to."

  Really needing to kiss her again, I groan when she takes a step back. "At least, come with me now," I beg, refusing to let go of her hand.

  Her mouth turns up at my request. "I think you owe me a night at the food truck for this. No, two nights!"

  "Done. And a night at Russo's…if you're lucky."

  Grinning, we walk hand in hand over to the autograph table, and all I can think about is getting her home, turning off the lights, and…

  "Oh, my God! It's Luke Singleton!"

  The woman who spotted me hoists her glass in the air while the others who are waiting in line behind her blind me with the
ir camera flashes. Most bars are pretty dark, and this one's no exception. Blinking in embarrassment, I lose my grip on Roberta's hand. Catching my deer-in-the-headlights expression, Danny gets up from behind the table and directs me over to it.

  "It's cool, man. She's standing up against the wall. See her over there?"

  He points in the general direction, and my heart only slows its rapid pace when I catch sight of Roberta waving at me.

  I rub my hands over my face. "Danny, if you only knew what the last few days have been like."

  He pulls out the chair next to him. "Well, he's not here yet, so you can just relax."

  When I take a seat, he gives me an encouraging nod before bestowing a dazzling smile on the soccer mom who's wearing a Bucky Beaver jersey.

  Getting into the act, Danny gives her a big thumbs-up. "Bucky Beaver, all right! Now that's the jersey to get."

  "And why's that?" I banter back, familiar with his shtick.

  "'Cause, unlike the rest of us, he's the one Beaver you can count on. He'll always be on the team." She laughs uproariously at him, and he winks at me. "Where would you like me to sign, ma'am?"

  She turns around, positioning herself as close as she can to him. "I'd love it if you could autograph one of the zeros on the back, and I'm hoping Luke can sign the other."

  Danny's smile gets even bigger. "Only Bucky's cool enough to wear double zero. Right, Single?"

  But I'm distracted, watching some guy try to hit on Roberta. "Yeah, whatever you say, Danny Boy."

  The woman giggles when the point of Danny's Sharpie skates over her back. He gives it an extra flourish, elongating the loop of the Y in O'Malley before tapping me on top of the head. "You're up, my man."

  The guy rests his elbow against the wall, hovering over Roberta, and as I get to my feet, I have half a mind to charge over there and push him away from her.

  "Luke, I simply adored your father," the woman coos at me over her shoulder. "He'll always be Mr. Beaver to me."

  "That's nice of you to say, ma'am," I reply, staring over her head.

  "And I so enjoy watching you play too, sweetie, and all the success you've been having lately," she gushes. "I think you're finally gonna break the curse." She raises her fist in the air. "I can feel it!"

  Roberta turns her back on the guy, and he stands behind her, bewildered.

  "Uh…what curse, ma'am?" I ask while adding #99 under my signature.

  "You know…" She whirls around. "About making it to the majors! Your dad never did, but, Luke, you're well on your way. The Kings would be crazy not to name you as one of their September call-ups."

  My stomach flips over. As chaotic as things have been lately, I haven't even thought about that, probably because my hard-ass manager hasn't even mentioned it to me. But she's right. My average has risen to almost .300, and I've stolen twenty bases over the course of the season. My name will no doubt be in the mix when the Kings expand their roster next month—which means I'll have to go to New York and leave Roberta and Mom.

  The guy taps Roberta on the shoulder, refusing to give up, and I'm seconds away from going over there. She says something to him, keeping her back turned, and he hangs his head as he walks away in defeat.

  It's a good lesson for me. I have to remember she's more than capable of taking care of herself. But after what she told me about Nichols, it's hard for me not to want to be there for her, every second of every day. I'm used to being the guy she and Mom can depend on, and I really don't like the idea of not being around when they need me.

  So how am I supposed to be happy about taking the next step in my career when it means I'll be leaving them wide open to the threat of Nichols coming back here the second he hears I'm in New York?

  Danny follows my gaze and holds up his hand to the crowd. "Hang tight, ladies. We'll be right with you." His announcement is met with a chorus of groans, but he just tunes them out, positioning his chair closer to mine. "Hey, man, what are you gonna do if you do get called up?"

  I let out an exasperated sigh. "There's no way Rex is gonna give me the nod over one of his favorites."

  Danny takes a swig from his water bottle before answering, "I dunno. Forget the first half of the season. You came on mighty strong at the end. And the bonus for getting called up would be sweet. We're talking about a nice chunk of change, Single."

  "I know. It's like a year's salary for most people in Stockton, for four weeks' work," I reply sullenly.

  Danny clutches his chest. "You're killing me with your enthusiasm here. What I wouldn't give to make it to The Show. I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat."

  I stare him down. "No one said I'm making it, and no one said you're not."

  He stretches his arms out in front of him and cracks his knuckles. "Single, my earned run average ballooned to 6.36 in July. I'm not goin' anywhere but back home once the Beavers' season's over. You gotta live the dream for the both of us, man."

  "You just don't wanna get rid of the beard."

  I glance over at Roberta again, and Danny kicks my foot under the table.

  "Single, if the opportunity comes your way, you cannot—I repeat, cannot—turn it down. Do you hear me?"

  But when Roberta's eyes lock with mine, all I can do is shake my head. "No can do, Danny Boy. I can't leave her… I can't leave Mom."

  Danny turns his chair so that he's facing me. "If you want me to stick around Stockton until you get back, I will."

  I smile at him, touched by his offer. "Thanks, man. But I can't ask you to do that. No one knows what Nichols is capable of, and I don't want you getting mixed up in it."

  "But—"

  I silence him with a look. "It's up to me to keep her safe, and I'm damn well gonna do it."

  The corner of his mouth turns up. "You really love her, don't you?"

  "More than life itself."

  Chapter Thirty

  Roberta

  My head goes up and down on Luke's chest. He's snoring contentedly after drifting off about an hour ago. Once we got home from the bar, he took his time and put me to bed the right way. It was heaven on earth and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Afterward, knowing how worried I am, he waited for me to fall asleep first. But it just wasn't happening. Not tonight…

  Which is why we're in my room, instead of his. The window directly overlooks Cedar Crest Lane. If a car door so much as slams or a dog barks, I'll hear it. I glance at the clock and the red numbers read 4:07. The Clearwater Clash played a team in upstate New York tonight. They had no more than a three-hour trip south. In all likelihood, their bus has already dropped them off at the Sheraton for the night. I shut my eyes to the reality of what that means—David's back in Stockton.

  Earlier, not wanting to alarm Luke, I'd snuck my phone into the bathroom with me while I was brushing my teeth and found out that the Clash's starter went the distance tonight, pitching a complete game shutout. David wasn't used at all. So he'll be rested and available for the series against the Beavers. There'll be no getting out of it this time. He's injury-free and hasn't hit a batter in months. He's been on his best behavior, patiently biding his time.

  It's a pattern I'm familiar with. He'd always butter me up to get what he wanted. While he was on the road, sleeping with other women, he'd always send me flowers. He thought he could buy my silence, that I'd just turn a blind eye to what he was doing. So when I didn't greet his return by warmly welcoming him back into our bed, I had several black and blue marks to cover up the next morning because of it.

  I roll onto my back and run a hand across my stomach. Tears prick my eyes as so many painful memories flash through my mind. I start to sob silently, shaking the bed, and Luke reaches for me, half asleep.

  Smacking his lips, he turns toward me, peering at me through heavy-lidded eyes. "Bobbie Jo? Are you crying?"

  I shake my head, tossing my curls about on the pillow. His fingers skim along my cheek, feeling the evidence of my tears.

  "What is it, baby? Did you have another nightmare?" he murmurs,
reaching for my hand under the covers.

  I shouldn't have moved. He's grown accustomed to falling asleep with me in his arms. Whenever I shift out of his embrace, he always tosses and turns until he's snuggled up against me again, his legs tangled in mine. He hasn't had any nightmares since we started sleeping together, and I don't want him to think he has to comfort me now. So I flip onto my side. But he's not giving up so easily and his hand remains on top of mine.

  "I'm fine," I mutter, hoping he'll go back to sleep.

  Unconvinced, he circles my belly button with his thumb. But when I flinch, he stills his hand. I've always delighted in his touch. I've never once rejected it because I've had no reason to.

  And my heart breaks when he whispers, "Do you want me to go back to my room?"

  "No," I say vehemently, wrapping his arm around me.

  "Then tell me why you're crying. Talk to me."

  Confessions are always easier in the dark. Eye contact's not required. Facial expressions are hidden. All he has to go on is the tone of my voice.

  "Just knowing he's nearby…" I pause, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "It just brings it all back."

  He kisses the nape of my neck. "Forget about him. You're safe here with me."

  I sigh. "That's the problem. I can't forget what he did to me. Oh, how I wish that I could."

  "What can I do?" Luke pleads. "Tell me."

  "Nothing," I groan. "When he came after me the first time, I did everything I could think of to feel safe again. I changed my phone number. I took a class in self-defense. I went to the cops. I filed a restraining order. But he still managed to find me again, after all this time."

  There's always been this strange, magnetic pull between David and me. I felt it the night we met, and I feel it even now. But his feelings for me never amounted to love. They were dark, bordering on obsession. When I first found out he was cheating on me, he said all those other women meant nothing to him. He claimed he only did it because when he was on the road, he couldn't be with me, and that I was always the one he was thinking about whenever he was with someone else. It was sick, and I allowed myself to believe him.