by R. C. Martin
Ryann reached up and raked her fingers through her hair before she looked down at herself. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking. Nevertheless, as her mind cleared and she registered her lack of movement, it was as if her whole body instinctively knew she was headed in the wrong direction.
Lifting her gaze, she glanced between her parents and held up a finger. “Could you wait for me? I’ll just be a second.”
She spun on her heel before either of them had a chance to respond and headed toward the dugout. Ryann knew she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly, but she didn’t care. Furthermore, she knew if she had the chance to gather her thoughts, she’d talk herself out of what she had a mind to do. At that moment, rationale was the last thing she wanted to grab onto. She’d been rational—she’d been practical and safe for long enough.
Ryann spotted Leslie just as he and Aaron made their way through the gate separating the field from the bleachers. Leslie had his usual bag of equipment slung over his shoulder. Aaron walked beside him, toting his clipboard and the cooler they’d brought, filled with water bottles for the boys. They both fell silent when they saw her, and each of them offered her a handsome smile as they approached.
“Uhm, hi,” Ryann murmured. Her stomach tingled, as if her anxiety and her excitement had mixed together in a fizzy cocktail of erratic emotions. She tried to ignore it. Her eyes darted from Leslie to Aaron, then back to Leslie—but she didn’t miss the sly smirk that tugged at the corner of Aaron’s mouth. Too distracted to interpret the meaning of his brother’s sly smile, she inquired, “Leslie, do you have a second?”
“Yeah.”
Without missing a beat, he took the bag from over his shoulder and dropped it on Aaron’s. His brother chuckled but didn’t argue before he walked away, leaving Leslie and Ryann to themselves.
“So—I was wondering,” she started and then paused, unexpectedly in need of a breath. She felt her nerves start to encroach on her boldness, but she shook them away as she lifted a hand and swept a bit of hair behind her ear. “If—if I were to tell you I changed my mind, and that I happened to be without a child tonight and—”
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he interrupted with a grin.
The tingling in her belly intensified as her stomach flip-flopped at the sight of his charming smile. Appalled at the ease of their exchange, she tilted her head and scowled slightly as she muttered, “Really?”
“Yes,” he replied with a nod. He then offered her a wink and started after his brother as he went on to say, “Looking forward to it.”
“Okay,” she practically whispered as she watched him walk away. “I’ll see you then.”
IT WASN’T UNTIL she went to get dressed that Ryann realized her attempt at spontaneity left her with very few clues as to what Leslie might have had in mind for their evening. Though, intent on embracing her inner desire to be the woman she longed for him to see, she threw caution to the wind and picked out a dress to wear on their date. It wasn’t fancy, but it was one of her favorites.
The casual, navy blue, maxi dress was cut like a t-shirt, with the sleeves cuffed just below her shoulders. It sculpted her figure, the draw string tied around her middle pulling attention to her waist. Her midsection had grown a bit soft after the birth of Cohan, but it was a feature she didn’t mind showing off. The light, flowy fabric of her outfit draped over her narrow hips, and the split cut of the rounded hem offered a generous slit up to her thighs. She’d pulled her hair back into a loose chignon, leaving a couple strands out to help shape her face. She’d even taken the time to put on a full array of makeup. As she admired herself in the mirror, she smoothed a hand over her belly and drew in a nervous breath.
I hope I look all right…
Having set her alarm to alert her at five minutes to the top of the hour, she abandoned her reflection as the sound pulled her from her thoughts. She then returned to her room to slip into her shoes and grab her purse. It took her a minute to tuck her feet into the nude, strappy, heeled sandals she’d chosen, but she was certain the effort was worth it.
In an attempt to avoid being fussed over, Ryann called out her farewell to her parents on her way to the door. It had been months since she’d gotten dressed up, and years since she’d been on a first date. She had enough of her own emotions to combat without the sentiments and commentary of her beloved peanut gallery.
She stepped outside at the same moment Leslie’s truck pulled into the driveway. Ryann was just as relieved as she was nervous to see him. Relieved she’d made it outside before he could ring the bell and beckon her father to answer the door—as if she were a teenager all over again. Nervous and anxious with anticipation at the reality of spending her evening with him—as if she were a teenager all over again.
She bit her lip to hide her smile when he got out of his truck to make his way toward her. He was wearing a pair of tan slacks, which sculpted his legs quite nicely, and a checkered, light blue button-up. He’d left the hem untucked, and he’d rolled the sleeves up his forearms. The fabric strained against the expanse of his broad shoulders and notable biceps. Ryann had the irrational thought that she’d never seen a man wear a shirt better. As he drew nearer, a wave of excitement washed over her. It was marvelous how the blue in his shirt drew even more attention to the blue of his eyes.
For a second, she didn’t care if he saw her the way she’d hoped—she was merely grateful that she could see him.
Her breath caught in her throat when he didn’t stop upon reaching the porch. With his hands shoved into his pockets, he kept walking toward her until she had to crane her neck back to see him properly. At first, he said nothing. Instead, his eyes danced around her face, and she felt a blush suffuse her cheeks. All at once, she sensed it—the unexplainable reality that he saw her in ways she didn’t even remember she could be seen. The quiet profoundness of his stare was her undoing—and their night hadn’t even begun.
“Hi,” he finally murmured with a slow, sexy smile.
“Hi,” she managed on a breath.
Leslie’s smile grew wider as he lowered his forehead to touch hers. Ryann had to will her eyes to remain open. Their aloneness, and the freedoms he was bold enough to exercise in the midst of it, gave her the permission she didn’t know she wanted to let her guard down. He smelled incredible, and the nearness of him made her feel unbalanced.
“I would have waited. For you. I was going to wait until the end of the season—until you didn’t have a good reason to tell me no. I would have waited,” he repeated. He shook his head, still pressed against hers, and then inched toward her a little closer. “I’m really glad I didn’t have to.”
Ryann blew out a startled breath, overwhelmed by all that was Leslie.
Before her mind could conjure a word to say, he went on to tell her, “You look incredible.”
Her blush deepened, which made her question her age. “Thank you,” she replied.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay,” she agreed with a nod.
His smile softened as he took a step away from her. He pulled one of his hands from his pocket and gently pressed it to the small of her back, encouraging her to step off the porch. When they rounded the hood of his black, four-door, Ford F-250, he was quick to open the passenger side. She smiled at him in thanks, and then he offered her his arm to help her step inside. Once she was settled, Leslie jogged his way around to the driver’s seat and slid in behind the wheel.
He started the engine, and Dierks Bentley filled the cab. “Burning Man” played through the sound system. Ryann bit her lip and dropped her gaze into her lap. Her heart galloped in her chest as she tried not to read too much into the pieces of the moment in which she found herself. Though, try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the warm sensation that blossomed in her belly. She loved Dierks Bentley.
“All right, I’ve got two places in mind,” said Leslie, capturing Ryann’s attention once more. “What’s the lady’s preference, whiskey or wine?”
/> Ryann didn’t even pause to think about it before she answered, “Whiskey.”
“My kind of woman,” he grinned as he backed out of the driveway. “So, is it just you and Cohan in that big house?”
“Oh. No.” Ryann peered out the window as they exited the neighborhood, headed she didn’t know where. She wasn’t so much concerned about their destination as she was about his chosen topic of conversation. Thinking it best to simply be honest, she admitted, “We live with my parents. Not exactly the place I thought I’d be in my thirties, but—after the divorce, with my job, it just made sense. I needed help with Cohan and, I don’t know.” She lifted a single shoulder in a shrug as she repeated, “It made sense. Hasn’t stopped making sense.”
“I get that. Same thing happened with my baby sister. It wasn’t divorce, but when we lost Julian, she was on her own with a two and half year old. It was hard. Too hard. She was stubborn as hell, but we all convinced her it was better for her to not be alone. Hell, for a minute there, I thought about moving back home right along with her, but then I realized how crowded it’d be.” He chuckled to himself and said, “Anyway, enough about her.”
Ryann offered Leslie a small smile as he peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. It was one thing to see him and Aaron volunteer their time to Sheldon and the other boys. It was another thing entirely to hear the love he held for his family as he spoke about them. He didn’t hide it. Not even a little.
“You mentioned your job. When you’re not being mom, what do you do?”
His second question was innocent enough, but it also reminded Ryann of the setbacks she’d faced over the last year. Not quite ready to open up about herself a second time, she challenged, “You first. When you’re not coaching little league, what do you do?”
“Fair enough,” he replied with a lopsided smile. The sight made Ryann’s stomach clench. He went on to answer, “Knight’s Pitching Academy—the address I sent you to for Cohan’s first lesson? It’s mine.”
“Wait,” Ryann muttered, turning her body toward his. “You teach private baseball lessons full time?”
“Yeah. My staff and I. I mean, I’ve got to keep up with the business side of things too, but I try and take on as many clients as I can.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and looked away from the road to peek at her a second time. After a quick glance, he focused his attention out the windshield. “Baseball has always been it for me. I wasn’t born with it in my blood, but as soon as I discovered it—as soon as I found my home up on that pitcher’s mound—there was nothing I wanted more. Didn’t think I’d hang up my jersey so soon, but I went out on my own terms, and that was enough for me.”
Still perplexed, Ryann shook her head and asked, “You have a staff? You run a business and you try and take on as many clients as you can, but you offered Cohan one of your open spots? At thirty dollars a lesson? Is that—” Cutting herself off, she knit her eyebrows together and squinted her eyes at him. “Is that your normal fee?”
“Maybe,” he replied with a knowing smile. “Maybe not.”
“Leslie, I—”
“Listen, I offer a discount for all the boys on Sheldon’s team. I’ll admit, I don’t coach most of them, but Cohan’s got something special in him. I would never lie to you about that. Now, fess up. What pays your bills?”
“Nothing wonderfully ambitious as all of that. I wish.” Ryann grimaced, embarrassed by her own self-pitying tone. She shook her head and then confessed, “I work in the bakery department at a nearby grocery store. I bake and decorate cakes and cookies, mostly. Like you said, pays the bills.”
“Do you like it?”
“I don’t hate it, but I didn’t go to culinary school and study the art of baking pastries to make birthday cakes all day long.” Ryann stifled a sigh and turned her gaze out her window. “God, listen to me. You didn’t ask me out to hear me complain.”
“Ryann?” Leslie’s voice dipped down low as it wrapped around her name. “I asked you out because I was interested in hearing whatever it is you want to say. So say it. If you weren’t making birthday cakes, what would you be doing?”
Ryann sought out his profile, wondering if the the sincerity in his voice matched the expression on his face. “You really want to know?”
“I really want to know.”
“Okay. If I had my way, I would own my own whole foods pastry shop. Something small and adorable with decadent treats you wouldn’t feel guilty eating. For a while, I thought it would be my reality. My ex, he and his family own a chain of restaurants; he had the connections, the knowledge, and the business sense to help me get started. He promised. And then—then he broke every promise he’d ever made to me, and now I’m—”
“Here. With me,” interrupted Leslie. “I’m not so bad, am I?”
Ryann coughed out a laugh, relieved he’d managed to bring her back to the present. “No. Not at all.”
“Good. ‘Cause you and I are just getting started.”
She admired what she could see of his face. For a moment, she allowed herself to get caught up in all he implied with that one statement. She relaxed even further into her seat and probed, “What about you? Do you like what you do? Do you ever wish you were still playing ball? And what made you—hang up your jersey?”
“What, you haven’t read up on me yet?” he guffawed playfully. She giggled as he made a big show of pressing his palm against his chest, as if she’d wounded him. “I’m hurt.”
Speaking through a smile, she stated, “I’m a single mom. I don’t have the time to stalk my dates on the internet.”
“Thank god for that. Honestly. It’s refreshing. After a while, hearing your story told to you over and over again, by strangers who think that know you, makes it feel less real.”
“Well, I don’t know much, other than it sounds like you got to play for years.”
“Yeah. From the time I was four until I was thirty-one. When I was fresh out of college, I just knew no one could get me to quit before I was forty. Then I went pro, and I was even more convinced.”
“What changed?”
“Blew my rotator cuff. Recovery was hell, and everyone thought I was done. I was injured for the last year of my contract with the Cardinals, and I was a risk they couldn’t afford to take after that. At first, I didn’t blame them. Physical therapy made me nervous. Thought my arm would never be the same—but baseball was all I knew. I wasn’t ready to give it up.
“When I signed with the Rough Riders, I had every intention of playing my way back into the majors. Then Julian died on the road, and nothing was the same. Suddenly, being up on that mound wasn’t everything anymore.”
“On the road? What does that mean?” Ryann inquired softly.
“He was a Cardinal. Actually, we met in college, and our careers had us on the same path for a while. He was my best friend before he was my brother-in-law. Anyway, he was on the road with the team when it happened. Couple of the guys had gone out after their last game in town, and they were on their way back to the hotel when they were struck by a drunk driver.”
Ryann’s brow furrowed in sadness. It was as if the muscles in her forehead were attached to her heart, which sank like an anvil in her chest. All at once, the gossip she’d heard crumbled in her mind like ash, the truth having burnt it all to the ground. She thought of Sheldon. She remembered the moment she’d witnessed between him and his uncles on the day they’d passed out uniforms. That little boy lost his dad before he was even three years old. Realizing the memory of his father was kept alive by the love of his mother, the integrity of his uncles, the number twenty-one, and their love of baseball—it made Ryann feel the distant anguish of a stranger’s despair, right alongside the hope found only in love.
“God, I’m so sorry,” she whispered through the knot in her throat. “That’s heartbreaking.”
She wasn’t aware she had clutched her hand into a fist and pressed it to her chest until Leslie reached over and slid his fingertips underneath her wrist.
She sucked in a breath when he gently lowered her hand into her lap and held it with his own.
“We get by. In a way, it realigned all of our priorities—the Moores are stronger and tighter than ever. So, to answer your question, I don’t regret it. I miss it, sometimes; but I know I’m where I need to be, and I love what I do.” He gave her fingers a squeeze, and she looked down at their hands as he went on to say, “All right. Enough with the heavy—we’re here.”
Surprised by his declaration, she looked out the windshield as they pulled into the parking lot of Whiskey Cake Kitchen & Bar. She sucked in a breath, and her stomach gurgled its hunger. Leslie’s comforting touch coupled with Ryann’s appetite caused her mind to shift directions entirely.
“Tell me it’s not just a name,” she blurted. “Tell me they serve whiskey cake.”
“Darlin’, they have whiskey cake; and I promise you, we aren’t leaving until you’ve had some.”
Grinning, Ryann twisted in her seat and squeezed his hand in return. “No. You’re not bad,” she quipped. “You’re not bad at all.”
IT WAS AFTER eleven when Leslie walked Ryann back onto the front porch of her parents’ house. As appropriate as it might have been for them to bid each other farewell, Ryann wasn’t quite ready to say goodnight. She hadn’t expected to enjoy herself as much as she did. Furthermore, she certainly didn’t anticipate how comfortable she would feel being herself in Leslie’s presence.
Sitting across from him at dinner was almost magical. It was like the blue of his irises had enticed her out of the confines of her circumstances. His conversation had dared her to be hopeful. His laugh had tempted her to do more than simply dream; and his touch—intentional and tender throughout their entire evening—beckoned her to believe in the possibilities which existed in the unknown of the future. Leslie made her giggle. He made her blush. And his smile—his smile made her feel more alive than she imagined herself capable.
“Ryann?” Leslie murmured as they came to a stop.