Travis Page 9

  In the small but tidy living room, Travis sat on the couch talking baseball with Josh while Addie gazed adoringly up at them. The scene was the one Courtney had always envisioned for her children, but being married to a superstar had meant sacrifices, compromises. Family life had been one of them. Watching Travis with her children, she fought a wave of nostalgia for the good old days that had never been.

  Seconds later the coach glanced up from his conversation with Josh, met her gaze and winked. The move broke the spell and propelled her into the room. The minute her heels sounded on the hardwood floor, her daughter swung toward her.

  “Co-Oak.” Addie beamed a toothless grin.

  “Coach Oak,” Courtney repeated to her clearly besotted little girl.

  Travis rose, his impressive size taking up too much space and absorbing far too much of the oxygen in the tiny room.

  “I ran into Bill Jessup after school. He said you didn’t bring your car into his shop. Thought I’d see if you needed another jump start.”

  She eyed the man who had to bend slightly to avoid knocking his head on the slanted ceiling. He could fool the kids, even lie to himself, but he wasn’t fooling her. More than the sad state of car repairs had driven him to climb the stairs to her apartment over the store. And while she appreciated the handsome man’s interest—what girl wouldn’t?—she was pretty sure encouraging him belonged on the Top-Ten List of Bad Ideas.

  She forced a little coolness into her voice. “I wasn’t quite ready to do that.”

  “Oh?” The question came without a challenge. “Bill’s running a sale right now. You’ll never get a lower price. Or better service.”

  Absently, she smoothed her T-shirt. Taking care of the car seemed like the smart thing to do…unless your checkbook was running on fumes.

  As if he sensed her hesitation, Travis gestured toward Josh and Addie. “If you get stranded, next time I might not be around to help out.” He offered her a sheepish grin.

  It was hard to find fault with his logic. She needed reliable transportation. Small towns like Cocoa Village didn’t offer bus service, and taxis were too expensive for routine errands like the ones she made to the big-box store for supplies. She let her hands drop to her sides.

  “You’re right about the car. It wouldn’t turn over this afternoon. Let me pull some things together, and if you’re sure you don’t mind…”

  “Not at all.”

  Courtney turned to her son. “Josh, bring the book you’re reading for your book report.” To her self-appointed white knight, she said, “Let me grab Addie’s diaper bag and my purse, and we’ll be all set.”

  Following Travis through the streets of Cocoa Village and across the causeway to Merritt Island a few minutes later, she tried telling herself it made sense to accept the man’s help. He obviously wanted Josh to play for the Sluggers as much as she wanted her boy to stay in school.

  But was she making a huge mistake by letting Travis get close to her? Courtney tightened her grip on the steering wheel. To her children? Their emotional well-being was every bit as important as their physical safety. So why was she even thinking of Travis? The man lived and breathed baseball. And that was a deal breaker, wasn’t it?

  She was still trying to figure out the answers when Travis pulled into the parking lot beneath a gigantic sign advertising Bill’s Discount Auto Repair. By the time she unbuckled her seat belt, he held her door open for her. At her side, he guided her little family into a store where the smell of new rubber competed with oil and grease.

  “Welcome to Bill’s Dis—”

  The man behind the counter stopped talking as he looked up and spotted the new arrivals. “Travis! Glad to see you could make it! What can I do for my favorite baseball player?” Dressed in stained overalls, the burly figure stepped toward them offering his hand.

  Expecting him to spend the next few minutes reminiscing with Travis about his days in the minor leagues, Courtney moved aside. The touch of Travis’s hand at the small of her back halted her flight and nudged her forward.

  “Bill, this is Courtney Smith. Her son, Josh, is one of our new Sluggers this year.”

  “Ms. Smith. Josh. And this little one?” Bill grinned at the baby.

  “Addie,” Courtney offered as her daughter buried her face.

  “Addie,” repeated Bill. “Welcome to Bill’s Discount, where prices are low and quality is high. What can I do for you today?”

  She tilted her head, pleased when Travis stepped back and let her take the lead. She explained the problem, then asked, “Do you have time to take a look at it?”

  Bill’s voice boomed. “I’d be happy to. If I could have your keys?”

  She placed them in his calloused palm.

  “Back in a jiff,” he said before disappearing through a door behind the counter.

  In a matter of minutes, he returned with news.

  “One of the cells in your battery is dry. You aren’t pulling enough current to start the car. Let me show you what we have to choose from. Our top-of-the-line model comes with a sixty-month guarantee…”

  The little she understood about the inner workings of a car could be crammed into a coffee cup with plenty of room for cream and sugar. To make things worse, Addie demanded attention, insisting she play peek-a-boo while Bill talked. Before he’d moved on to his second choice, Courtney bobbed her head without following a word the mechanic said.

  “Here.” Travis held out his hands. “Why don’t I take Addie and Josh next door to McDonald’s while you two sort things out.”

  “If she’ll go with you. She can be a bit stubborn.” Hesitantly, Courtney handed the baby off, then waited, fully expecting her daughter to scream bloody murder.

  From her new perch in Travis’s arms, Addie gave a wide-eyed look that all but demanded to know why she hadn’t been there before.

  Travis laughed. “Well, I guess we’re all right, then.” He clapped a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “How ’bout it? Shall we go grab a booth while your mom handles things?”

  “Sure, Coach.” Her son peered up at her through soulful eyes. “Mom, can I have a hamburger? I’m starving.” As if on cue, his stomach rumbled.

  Courtney shook her head. The new battery was going to put another dent in a balance that needed a rapid infusion of cash. She opened her mouth, intending to tell her son they couldn’t afford to eat at a restaurant, even if it was only fast food.

  “Um, I—”

  “I’m a mite peckish, too,” Travis interrupted. “How ’bout we make this my treat—paybacks for all those free cups of coffee you’ve served me in the mornings?”

  He’d made fewer than a half dozen stops by Coffee on Brevard. Each time, he’d nursed a single cup. Not that she’d argue with the man. Not in front of her children. And especially not after he’d gone out of his way to help her.

  “Okay,” she said, though she sent Josh a meaningful glance. “But don’t overdo it.”

  “Can Addie have french fries?” Travis wanted to know.

  Courtney sighed. Having given in this far, she figured she might as well surrender completely. “She eats more ketchup than fries, but yes.”

  Watching Travis herd her children through the door, she felt a pang of remorse so deep it took her breath away. What if she’d married someone who honestly liked children, chose to spend his days around them, set himself up as a role model for them?

  Though she knew it was a waste of time, she had to ask if things would have turned out differently. Would she still lie awake nights worrying what kind of man her son would become? If he’d battle the same demons his father had fought? And what about Addie? She’d never even known Ryan. How would not knowing her father affect her?

  She shook the troubling thoughts from her head and turned to Bill. “Now, about my car. You were saying…”

  In the end, she grudgingly pulled out the credit card she kept for absolute emergencies. Walking into McDonald’s a short time later, she steeled herself against a mouth-watering a
roma. Instead, she stopped at the counter long enough to buy a Diet Coke with the loose change from the bottom of her purse. She took a sip.

  At a booth near the back, she spotted Josh, the remains of a Happy Meal spread out on the table before him. Oddly enough, he’d devoured the apple slices first and now munched on a hamburger. Across from him Travis fed bite-size pieces of apple to Addie from her own colorful kid-sized box while his food sat untouched on the table.

  Something twisted deep in her stomach.

  She couldn’t deny how much her kids needed a male influence in their lives. And there sat Travis, doing all the things she’d learned to never expect from a man who lived his life on a diamond. She squared her shoulders, slid onto the seat beside Josh and snagged one of his fries.

  “Hey.”

  Dipping the purloined potato in ketchup, she ignored her son’s good-natured protest and took a steadying breath.

  “Travis, thanks for everything.”

  One solid shoulder rose and fell in a careless shrug. Courtney let her eyes drink her fill of the man on the opposite side of the table. Did he have any idea how endearing he looked sitting there feeding sliced fruit to her daughter?

  Travis slid a colorful box her way. “This was Addie’s. I wasn’t sure if she liked burgers or not. My nieces didn’t start eating them till they were a bit older.”

  “Oh?” Courtney tipped the open box. Inside lay an unwrapped hamburger and a packet of fries. She claimed the latter to share with her daughter and pushed the rest aside while she dealt out questions. “How many do you have? Do they live nearby?”

  The paper Travis unfolded around a quarter pounder crinkled. “My brother and his wife live in Tampa. They have two girls, seven and nine, and a boy who just turned three. Mom lives nearby and dotes on all of them.” He aimed his chin toward her unwrapped sandwich. “If you’re not going to eat that, Josh probably will.”

  “That leg of yours still hollow?” she asked her son. The extra food disappeared from her hand almost before she had a chance to blink. “What do you say?”

  “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Coach.” Josh tore into the burger as if he hadn’t eaten in days instead of minutes.

  Courtney chose a french fry. “That must be nice. Having family so close by.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, it’s just me and the kids. My folks separated while I was in college. Now they live on opposite sides of the country. Dad remarried a couple of years ago. His new family keeps him busy.” Too busy to do more than fly out for Ryan’s funeral.

  The muscles in Travis’s jaw worked briefly. “And your mother?”

  “I guess you’d say she’s not the type to bake cookies and knit sweaters.” Courtney forced a laugh. “She moved to New York after the breakup. She spends her days shopping and her nights…” With an eye on the kids, she finished, “Let’s just say she’s still looking for the Fountain of Youth.”

  “Got it.” Something that looked an awful lot like sympathy sparkled in Travis’s eyes.

  Courtney wanted to tell him there was nothing to feel sorry about. She couldn’t blame her parents for living out their dreams any more than she’d accept criticism for the steps she’d taken to protect her family after Ryan died.

  “Mom, can I go play now?”

  Courtney glanced at her watch. In five minutes Josh had scarfed down his dinner and was ready for the next thing. “Where’s the book you’re supposed to be reading?”

  A lopsided grin spread across the boy’s face. “I think I might have left it in the car.”

  Courtney swallowed a sigh. Carefully, she scoured the play area that jutted out from the restaurant. Behind clear glass walls, children dashed between painted tubes that were far too small to hide an adult. Satisfied that the area was safe, she nodded. “Okay, but just until the car is ready. The minute we get home, you get back to work.”

  Once Josh slid past her, she handed Addie a lone french fry.

  “K-shup,” the little one chirped.

  “Want some ketchup?” she asked, dumping enough onto a folded wrapper to keep the child busy for some time. While Addie made every effort to gum the potato to death by repeatedly dunking it in the red goo, Courtney let her attention drift back to Travis.

  Time to get to know more about the man who’d invaded their lives.

  “Your brother, the one in Tampa, does he play baseball, too?”

  “Not anymore. He was a catcher. Signed with UF but injured his back.” Travis shrugged. “Later, he went into medicine. He and his wife are nurses at Tampa General.”

  Courtney brushed at a loose strand of hair. In the play area, Josh and another boy clung to climbing ropes, each doing his best to reach the top. She handed Addie another fry. “And you? What led you to Citrus?”

  “After I gave up the dream, I needed a job. Lucky for me, my degree in sports sciences included a teaching certificate. Bob, Principal Morgan, had an opening for a P.E. teacher.” Travis took another bite and chewed thoughtfully before adding, “I have to admit, I like working with kids a lot more than I thought I would.”

  She studied the man who’d shown her son more kindness than she’d expected. “I sense a but in there somewhere.”

  Travis leaned back, his long legs stretched out beneath the seat beside her. His dark eyes bore into hers. “I’ve been talking to the Cannons about a coaching job.”

  Courtney caught her bottom lip between her teeth, but that didn’t prevent sharp disappointment from knifing through her chest. “So,” she breathed. “You’re leaving.”

  “Not yet. Later this summer. Maybe.”

  “Soon enough.”

  The news was a game changer. She dredged another fry through the ketchup, concentrating on anything but Travis’s broad features while she marshaled her own thoughts.

  “I’m sure the town will miss you,” she said once she was certain she’d stuffed the last of her feelings for the coach into a box and nailed the lid closed. “People here look up to you. Principal Morgan. The other parents. Even Bill.” She aimed a glance toward the repair shop.

  “Oh, that,” he said as if playing the hero was old hat. “Lot of these dads, they have big dreams for their sons. I came closer to living out that fantasy than most anyone around here. That’s what they’re reacting to, not me.” He aimed a thumb toward his chest. “Inside I’m not any better than the guy who fixes cars for a living.”

  She searched his eyes for any telltale smugness that would expose his false modesty. No matter how hard she looked, not a hint of conceit marred the brown depths. Intrigued, she held his gaze until her awareness of the room around them faded and there was nothing but Travis and his penetrating presence. A sudden wish to reach out to him stirred within her.

  It took every ounce of her willpower, but she retreated. She couldn’t risk getting closer to Travis than absolutely necessary. Especially now that she knew he wasn’t going to stick around. When he grabbed a napkin to blot ketchup from Addie’s lips, her decision wavered ever so slightly. But by the time her phone pinged with a text saying the car was done, she knew what she had to do.

  “Thanks for seeing us out here. And for dinner.” She stood, palming her cell phone so he could see the text from Bill. “The car’s ready. Time to get these kids home. We have another big day tomorrow.”

  It was now or never. She had to put some space between her and a certain tall, dark and attractive baseball player. No matter how little she wanted to do it.

  “Addie,” Courtney called. “You have to hold my hand whenever we’re outside.” Now that she’d taken her first steps, her daughter insisted on walking wherever they went. Her vocabulary expanded daily. She’d even started stringing words into simple sentences.

  “Walk.” Addie grinned and darted away, the rubber soles of her brother’s hand-me-downs scuffing through the grass.

  Startled, a bug sprang into the air.

  “Mama.” Clearly awed, the baby pointed. “Ye-ump!”

  “Grasshopper.
Now, hold my hand.” Uncertain whether she was ready to face more challenges in a year that had held too many of them, Courtney wiggled her fingers. “We have to talk to Josh.”

  “Chosh.” Addie toddled closer.

  Slowly, they made their way across the open grassy area toward the bleachers where the Sluggers had gathered to wait for practice. Courtney beckoned her son away from the group.

  “Let me see it,” she said when he was close enough that she didn’t have to shout.

  “See what?” Josh asked with a nearly believable look of innocence.

  “Don’t play dumb. I want to see your spelling and the note from Ms. Culpepper.” In the month since the draft, Josh had breathed, eaten and slept nothing but baseball. She’d worried that his grades might slip as a result, and at lunchtime his teacher had called to confirm her concerns.

  Shoulders slumped, Josh slung his backpack onto the ground at Addie’s feet.

  “I can’t now, Mom. I hafta put on my cleats and get on the field.”

  Courtney held up one hand. “Not so fast, mister. Papers first.”

  Showing a decided return of the attitude she’d hoped they’d banished, Josh mumbled under his breath. His posture stiff and unyielding, he unzipped his bag. He riffled through the contents, at last handing her several wrinkled pages.

  Courtney sucked in a fortifying breath at the line of red Xs along one edge of the review sheet. “Oh, Josh,” she whispered. His once average grades had taken a definite nosedive. She fought for control. “You told me you studied this morning. How’d you do that and still get so many wrong answers?”

  “I didn’t have time.” The shrug her son gave barely shifted his thin shoulders. “Coach Oak gave us some exercises he said we had to do before school every day.”

  She rubbed her brow, where a headache threatened. She shouldn’t be surprised. Josh had grown up watching his father’s single-mindedness toward baseball. The boy had to have absorbed some of it. But the attitude that had once made Ryan a superstar had also spelled disaster for his home life. A fact she’d done her best to shield her children from.

  Apparently, she’d done too good a job.