Читать книгу The Perfect Catch - Cassidy Carter - Страница 5

Chapter 2

The crack of a bat hitting a ball echoed through the park. Disappointingly, it wasn’t Wesley who had hit that ball—rather, the solid thwack had been the triumph of some other kid playing close by. A group of parents watching cheered, and Jess tried to ignore the smiling, eager dads who pressed their faces to the chain link fence and offered tips to the team of children. She also tried to ignore the sign that hung over the field, emblazoned with the name she’d been attempting to push out of her mind ever since that distracting news report.

Chase Taynor Field, my tail end, she thought. He’d barely even set foot back in the town where they’d named a whole public sports park after him, and he’d certainly never looked her up if he had.

Not that she ever thought about that. Nope, not at all.

Jessica stood on the pitcher’s mound, preparing. “Are you ready?” she asked Wes.

Wes nodded, and Jess sent a wobbling pitch his way. She waited until the ball neared what she thought was the sweet spot, and then she shouted, “And…swing!”

Wesley swung and missed, big time. Jessica frowned.

Holding up a finger, she signaled for Wes to wait. “Hang on a sec, honey. I think I may need to adjust my technique. Let me see.”

She dug her phone out of her pocket and loaded up the mobile coaching app that she’d been studying. She peeked down at her iPhone and then back up at Wesley. He looked as though his patience was about as strong as her coaching.

“Okay, easy does it. So, what you need to do is”—she scrolled down—“choke up on the bat.”

Wesley sighed and rolled his eyes. The eye rolling was becoming a major day-to-day occurrence, something that Jess was not a huge fan of.

“Like some kid on the internet?” he muttered.

Jessica, ignoring his attitude, served up another gentle pitch. Wesley swung and missed. There were muffled snickers from the group who practiced near them. The kids in the group had paused in their game to gawk at Jess and Wesley.

One of them faux whispered loudly, “Look, his mom is teaching him!”

The group burst into juvenile laughter.

His face flushed with embarrassment, Wesley said, “I’m gonna go get some water.”

He jogged off the field and moped to the water fountain. Jessica gathered up their baseball gear, shot a dirty look at the group—who all quieted almost immediately—and started to haul everything toward the car.

On the way, she spotted Mayor Fletcher walking his dog. The friendly older man changed course slightly and came over to Jess. In his sixties and well-liked around town, he was one of Jess’s remaining regulars at the diner. His wife had recently put him on a diet, and he’d sworn to Jess that he would strictly be ordering from the healthiest options on the menu. But he still snuck a sweet treat in after lunch every once in a while. In fact, her baked goods were some of her best sellers lately and something she’d been experimenting with in her ever-growing free time.

“Hey, Jess,” Mayor Fletcher said. “How’s practice going?”

Jessica squinted over at Wes, who had finished dawdling at the water fountain and was now crouched down at the edge of the field, inspecting the toe of his baseball cleats.

“Truthfully, Mayor, not great,” she admitted. “Wesley’s team has a big game coming up soon. But he’s thinking of quitting baseball for good.”

The mayor said, “Well, maybe baseball’s just not Wesley’s sport.”

Jessica sighed. “What other sport is there in this town? Wesley’s dad gave him the baseball bug but not the training.”

He tutted sympathetically. “And how is Wesley’s dad? Davis is off in California, I hear.”

Jessica was practiced at not reacting to the mention of Davis’s name. It was a small town, and folks were notoriously cavalier about what was off-limits—personal business not being on the short list. Mayor Fletcher wasn’t the type to gossip, and Jess fought back the bitter urge to bad-mouth her irresponsible ex, knowing that the mayor was just making conversation.

She could do that, push down the anger—the anger and the pang of hurt that still surprised her whenever anyone mentioned Wes’s dad.

“That was last month,” she replied lightly. “Now his band’s in Nevada, I think.”

Fletcher shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Jess. Will we see you tonight at the Spring Fling planning committee?”

Shoot. She’d forgotten about the meeting. Jessica plastered on her best fake smile and said, “You bet, Mayor. I’ll be there.”

Fletcher gave her a warm squeeze on the shoulder and ambled off to finish his walk. Jess didn’t have the luxury of ambling. She hefted the heavy sports bag, balancing several bats in her arms while simultaneously whistling to get Wesley’s attention. Wes jogged up and took the bats from her too-full hands.

“We’ve got to go, bud. You ready?”

Wes nodded. She saw him glance at the kids behind them, who had resumed their game.

“Yeah,” he said. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Can we just practice at home from now on?”

Jessica’s heart broke a little. “We’ll see, bud. We’ll see.”

Thankfully, she and Wes made it home in good time. As Wes had gotten his homework finished, Jess even had time to whip up some darned good mac and cheese with bacon and peas—a favorite of Wes’s since he’d been small.

Wes had brushed his teeth and promised to get into his pajamas at bedtime and not fall asleep in his clothes, and he was currently watching television as Jessica studied herself in the mirror, applying her lip gloss in quick strokes. She called over her shoulder to Wesley and waited for him to appear before she nodded to the hangers dangling from the shower rod next to her.

“I can’t decide. Blue dress or black?” Brett was always as polished as new silver, and she didn’t want to appear frumpy next to him.

Wesley leaned in the doorway of the bathroom. “You’re going with Brett, right?”

Jessica said, “Yes.” Wes knew that. She wondered where he was going with this.

Wesley said, “Then orange.”

Jessica, confused, said, “Orange? But you said it makes me look like a pumpkin.”

Wesley smiled innocently and shrugged.

“Honey, stop! Brett’s a nice guy.” She looked thoughtfully over at her mischievous kid. “Come here.” Wes, after a moment of hesitation, shuffled toward her.

“You know I’m not trying to replace your dad, right? I would never do that.”

Wes’s gaze dropped down to the worn tile, and Jessica pulled him close to her. She kissed the top of his head, marveling at how she barely had to bend over these days to do it. He was growing up so fast. She gave him a big hug. He squeezed back. It had been tough on them in the years since Davis had split, but they always got through—together.

“I love you,” she said.

She retreated to get ready, choosing the black dress and fixing up her hair. Just as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed, there was a knock at the door.

As Jess hustled to the front door, she cautioned Wes. “Be nice. I’m off to the Spring Fling planning meeting.” She gave him a smile as she rattled off a final instruction. “Have fun with Bonnie while I’m gone.”

Jessica opened the door to see Brett, every dark hair in place, his clothes impeccable, standing on her stoop. Brett whipped a box of candy out from behind his back.

Jessica said, “Right on time, Brett. You’re never a minute early or a minute late.” Or very exciting from minute to minute. She brushed off the catty thought.

Brett shrugged nonchalantly, but his expression said that he took her comment as a compliment. “Hey, I’m like a clock. And I knew you’d still be getting ready, so I sat out front in my car for the last ten minutes. I didn’t want to mess with your routine.” He stepped inside and then looked at Wesley. “Wes, ya like magic?”

Jessica shifted uncomfortably. Wes had yet to warm up to Brett, no matter how hard—or awkwardly—Brett tried.

Wesley, none-too-enthusiastically, said, “Sure.”

Brett pulled three small cups and a ball from his pocket and arranged them on the entryway table, sliding them around, classic shell-game style.

“You think you know where the ball is, don’t you?” Brett asked.

Wesley didn’t look impressed, and he didn’t answer.

Brett prompted, “But do you? Presto!” Brett waved his hands dramatically over the set of cups.

Wesley pointed to a cup, and Brett lifted it to see the ball. His face went blank.

Brett said, “Wait, I…” Brett rearranged them. Wesley pointed to the right one again.

Brett continued, mystified. “How did you do that?”

Wesley said nothing, and Jessica shot him a reproachful look. There was another knock on the door.

“We should head out. Mrs. Carver is here.” She patted Brett on the arm, and he gathered up his magic trick, still looking puzzled.

Jessica grabbed Wesley and kissed him, despite his mischievous smile—the same one he’d worn when trying to get her to dress in pumpkin spice for her evening.

Jessica whispered, “Be good, honey.” She mussed up his hair the way she knew bugged him.

They slid by Wesley’s babysitter as they left, and Jess made sure that Bonnie had Jess’s cell phone number, as well as Brett’s, just in case.

As they climbed into Brett’s car, Jess said quietly, “Look, it’s not personal. Wesley just sees himself as my protector.”

Brett didn’t respond, and they drove toward the community center in silence.

The mood thawed a bit on the way, and soon Brett was animatedly educating Jess on one of his favorite subjects—accident statistics. Jessica and Brett chatted as Brett led her into the community center, his hand on her back. A working dinner was underway.

“All I’m saying,” he said as they passed beneath a Spring Fling sign and into a crowd of other volunteers who were serving food, “is that eating while driving is one of the top three road hazards. When you’re an independent insurance broker, you get to know this stuff.”

“Wow, that’s so interesting.” Jessica hoped that her tone didn’t say otherwise. She found insurance statistics about as exciting as the overdue invoices from her vendors at the diner. She chastised herself to stop being so negative about Brett. What was up with her? There was no denying that Brett was a nice guy. Sure, she’d never felt that spark with him, but he wasn’t unpredictable, not the way that Wes’s father had been.

Brett continued. “I could tell you stories—a big rig driver in Vegas eating a meat loaf sandwich, a grandma popping peppermints in Duluth—stories that would curl your hair.”

She shoved him playfully as they headed inside. “I already curled my hair. Haven’t you noticed?”

At one side of the room, a craft station had been set up with paint and several piles of Spring Fling decorations and signs. Brett didn’t answer her. He frowned at the bustle of activity.

Jessica said, “Sorry, I know it’s date night. But this makes us even for that insurance convention.”

Brett said, “At least we had a Hawaiian theme.” But his voice was good-natured. He was always good-natured. Jess liked that about him.

Jessica admitted, “True. You’ve got me there.”

Brett surveyed the gathering. “I’ve sold insurance to half the folks here.” He craned his neck to take a better survey of the room’s occupants, pointing surreptitiously to a man nearby. “You don’t want to know about that guy’s preexisting conditions.”

Jessica, laughing, said, “Well, thanks for being here. I couldn’t miss this. I’m heading up the Spring Fling auction next week, and we’re way behind.”

Brett shook his head. “Jessica, you’re stretched too thin already. Why not let someone else do it?”

“Well, since no one else stepped up, I guess I’ll have to stretch even thinner,” Jessica answered.

Brett, who seemed to already be forgetting that he’d asked her something, waved at a couple of people dressed in business attire who were huddled in conversation across the room.

“I should say hi to some folks,” he said to Jess. “Spring’s prime time to up coverage before tornado and cicada season hits.”

Jessica said, “Network away.” She couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment as he eagerly left her side. So much for date night. She hadn’t been thrilled that this was where they’d be passing their time for the evening, but she’d been looking forward to spending time with Brett.

She recalled another Spring Fling where she’d felt much more excited to plan, decorate, and participate. But that one had been so many years ago it was ancient history. Spring Fling Queen, she thought ruefully. Her Spring Fling King likely didn’t even remember her name.

She looked around, debating where she’d be the most help. She’d just decided to go and letter the signs for the game booths when a slick, familiar voice sounded from behind her.

“Well, hello, Jessica.”

Jessica turned and saw Charlie. She resisted the urge to hold her nose. His cologne usually announced his arrival before he stepped into a room. Her allergies must have been acting up because she’d not smelled him coming. With his slicked-back hair and dress shirt open at the collar, he appeared more like an old-school, scamming car salesman than a forty-something, successful restaurateur.

She forced a smile. “Good to see you, Charlie.”

“You, too, Jessica,” Charlie said. “How’s business?”

Like you don’t know. “Well, it was better before you opened up your new restaurant out by the highway.”

Just as smarmy and know-it-all as he always was anytime Jess ran across him, Charlie said, “I always thought Parker Falls needed another restaurant. Ya know, something new. Besides, a little friendly competition just helps everyone raise the bar a little.”

Jessica, knowing that her false smile was wavering, tried to extricate herself quickly from the conversation. The longer she stayed, the more likely Charlie was to become an insurance statistic.

“Thanks for the marketing lesson.” She began to turn away, but his next words stopped her.

“You could always relocate. Your folks moved to Florida, right? I hear it’s sunny there. And from what I hear at the bank, you missed the latest payment on your small-business loan?” Charlie’s grin wouldn’t have been out of place on a shark.

Jessica bristled. Leave it to Parker Falls to have a blabbermouth working at the bank who was family to the man she was in direct competition with. She made a mental note to go down to the local branch in the morning and speak to the management about discussing a customer’s personal information.

She snapped back at Charlie. “Tell your brother hi, and we’re doing just fine. My grandpa Wesley opened the diner forty years ago, and I’ve put my heart and soul into keeping it going. We’ve still got a few tricks up our sleeves.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“Taco Wednesday’s tomorrow. It’s gonna be huge.”

Charlie pursed his lips, his expression disbelieving. “Taco Wednesdays? Oooh. Oh-kay.” He shook his head and walked off.

At least I got rid of him. Her face burned with embarrassment. Had anyone heard their exchange? Brett was still across the room, likely debating the merits of low-deductible plans.

Passing by, the mayor said, “Shouldn’t it be Taco Tuesdays?”

Jess blanched. Oh, right. Tomorrow was Tuesday. And Taco Tuesday sounded so much better.

“Yeah,” Jess said to no one in particular, “if I hadn’t just thought of it now.”