Читать книгу The Perfect Catch - Cassidy Carter - Страница 8

Chapter 5

The next morning, Jess had almost shaken off the impact of Chase’s visit. She’d hustled through her morning, admittedly taking a few extra minutes on her hair and makeup, checking off the list in her head of all the things she had to accomplish for the day. As she and Wesley went out the front door, she suddenly realized how quiet her son had been throughout breakfast.

Jessica steeled herself to broach the subject, bracing for more of Wesley’s eye rolling.

“I know yesterday’s practice was rough. But what do they say? If you fall off the horse, what do you do?”

“Sell the horse?”

They both giggled. At least he was laughing. That was something. She knew that baseball reminded Wes of his dad. She also knew that the disappointment he felt at Davis’s absence wasn’t anything she could take away, try as she might. Jessica swung open the front gate and ushered Wes through it onto the sidewalk.

“Listen, honey, if you don’t want to play baseball, you don’t have to play baseball. It’s okay with me.”

Wesley shook his head. “But, Mom, I do want to play! I’m just not that good.”

They faced each other on the sidewalk, and she studied him, looking for the face of her baby in the features of the quickly maturing kid in front of her. She wanted to make things easy for him, but they would have to tough this one out together.

“Well, if you want to get better, you have to practice! And for now, you have me as your coach. So, let’s go get better, okay?”

They loaded up their gear, and as she buckled her seatbelt, she ignored the urge to run by the diner to check on how business was going—and to see if Chase had stopped back for another omelet.

The chirping of birds, the buzzing of bees, the distant hum of the train that ran through town—none of these sounds woke Chase from the best sleep he’d had in months. No, he was jolted into consciousness by two things simultaneously—one was pleasant, but the other sounded like a prelude to every grounding that he’d ever known growing up in this house.

The boom of his father bellowing up the stairs made Chase’s eyes fly open, but the smile on Chase’s face had been brought about by the thought of Jessica Parker’s parting words from yesterday. “Welcome home.” They had sounded much sweeter coming from her than the way that Chase had muttered them on his drive into town.

It was way too early. Chase rolled out of the twin bed in his old room and rotated his stiff shoulder. He shuffled into his clothes and shoes and went downstairs, sticking his head out the front door to see his father standing in the driveway. His mother, Lindy Taynor, still radiant in her late fifties, stood next to Mason. She wore a colorful sweater that hurt Chase’s still-squinting eyes.

His father’s truck was half off the concrete drive, two wheels in the front yard, clearly having tried to maneuver past Chase’s car. Mason jerked a thumb toward the Mercedes, which was parked on the street, partly blocking the driveway. Chase took the hint and ran back inside to grab his keys.

Mason Taynor climbed into his truck and moved it out of the way as much as he could as his son got behind the wheel and started up the sports car. Chase slowly backed his car into the driveway. Mason slowly eased out onto the street.

Chase could hear his parents bickering, his mother walking on the driver’s side of his dad’s truck.

As Mason parked the truck and climbed out, Lindy said, “Why would you make him repark his car? He was sleeping.”

Mason replied gruffly, “It’s almost nine in the morning, and he was blocking my truck, Lindy.” Chase noticed his mother shoot his father the look.

“What?” Mason groused at his wife. “I’ve got an engine to rebuild down at the shop after breakfast.”

Lindy called out to Chase. “Left, honey. Turn left.”

Chase, yawning broadly, complied.

Mason, frowning, hung out the driver’s side window, bellowing to his son, “Too far! Right!”

“You’ve got plenty of room, honey!” his mother assured him. Chase’s attention ping-ponged left and right. He wasn’t sure which parent to listen to as they both waved him back. Another significant look was exchanged, this time his father the looker, and his mother the lookie. Chase couldn’t help but laugh. He’d forgotten how entertaining they were. Chase spun the steering wheel.

“Look out!” Mason cried.

Crunch. Chase hit the fence. And if that wasn’t a coincidence—that he was about to be in trouble after a swing for the fence—Chase didn’t know what was.

Chase sat at the kitchen table with his parents, his father reading the paper as his mother served up breakfast. After a prolonged silence, Chase said, “Sorry about the fence.”

Lindy said, “Nonsense. It was an old fence.” As she spoke, she kept piling food onto Chase’s plate until he pulled it out of her reach.

Mason said, “And a perfectly good one.”

More silence. Chase was taken back to being seventeen again. Though Chase had grown up, his father’s disapproving stare hadn’t aged a bit.

Lindy poured coffee, ignoring the uneasy atmosphere. “Anyway, we’re so happy having you home, sweetheart. After all the five-star hotels you put us up in when we visit, it’s about time I get to take care of you!”

“Thanks, Mom.” Chase dug into his breakfast, lowering his head to avoid having to look at his dad.

Mason cleared his throat, and Chase looked up to see him nodding toward the wall. Chase followed Mason’s line of sight to see several dramatic paintings of himself at bat and on the mound, framed and hung in a grouping.

Chase took his dad’s meaning. “Hey, Mom, great paintings.”

Lindy brightened and said, “I painted that one of you right off the TV. And that one from a magazine cover.”

“They’re amazing, Mom. Well done.” He appeared a lot more heroic in his mom’s paintings than he felt in real life. The silence descended again.

Mason buried himself in the sports page, which gave Lindy the opportunity to drop three more pieces of sausage on his plate. Apparently not satisfied, she added a pancake, too. Mason’s paper didn’t even flicker.

Lindy sat down and said, “Mason, are you going to take a look at the vacuum today?”

Mason lowered the corner of his paper. “Yes, Lindy. I said I would.”

“What’s wrong with the vacuum?” Chase asked, not caring about the annoyed look his dad shot him for talking with his mouth full.

Mason, cracking a smile, explained. “One of your mother’s paintbrushes got stuck in the rollers.”

They all shared a laugh, which seemed to lighten the mood. Chase said, “That vacuum has been around since before I was born. Why don’t I just buy you a new one?”

Mason screwed up his face, scoffing. “What? You afraid to get your hands dirty fixing it or something?”

Chase said quietly, “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just figured while I’m here—”

Mason cut him off. “I can fix it down at the shop. It’s a perfectly good vacuum.” He picked up his steaming mug and sipped his coffee. “Just like our perfectly good fence.”

Chase stood up from the table, tamping down his urge to snap back at his father. He didn’t want to upset his mom. Instead, he leaned over to give Lindy a kiss on the cheek and said, “Maybe I’ll go out for a bit. Look around town a little.”

Chase watched as Lindy shot Mason another look, and Mason simply went back to the newspaper.

Jess wasn’t as hostile toward the sign emblazoned with Chase’s name as she and Wes strolled onto the field. She thought about how easy it had been to talk to Chase, to slip back into that familiar feeling of closeness and comfort. Wes unpacked his gear and, grabbing a bat, jogged out a few paces from Jess. Jess refocused and whipped out her phone, consulting her app. After tucking her phone away, she hoisted a ball and got ready to let loose her first pitch.

“Okay, buddy,” she encouraged him. “So, you’re going to just keep your eye on the ball, right?”

At Wes’s serious nod, she muttered under her breath. “That’s what they say? Okay.” She let the ball fly, knowing that her clumsy overhand pitch would be a bit wild.

Wesley swung and missed.

Jessica said, “Oh! I’m sorry.” She winced. “It was just a little high.”

Wes got back into position, raising his arms and hefting the bat.

“Look, I know you’re good at this,” Jess said. Better than I am at pitching. “You just need to concentrate. Let’s try one more time.”

She tossed out another pitch that bonked Wesley directly in the shoulder. Jessica recoiled as Wes dropped the bat, grabbing for the injured spot. He hopped around, trying to shake off the hit.

“I’m sorry! Sorry, honey! Are you okay?” Jess asked.

“I’m fine.” He glared at her. There were no tips in her coaching app on what to do if you thwacked a player with a pitch.

“You sure?” She wanted to run over to him, but the stormy look on his face suggested that motherly smothering wouldn’t be very welcome right now.

Clutching his bruised arm, Wesley said in an aggravated tone, “Mom, every time we practice together, I just get worse!”

Jessica took a shaky breath. She knew that part of why Wes wasn’t getting better was that she wasn’t the best coach. Okay, she was a bad coach. App or no app, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t do everything. It was a jarring realization. She tried to stay positive—she had made a pact with herself not to dwell on the negative in the years since Davis had split—but it was a difficult pact to uphold.

“Oh, buddy. I’m so sorry.” She searched for something to say, anything that would comfort him and help her bolster her own flagging spirits. “Well—just—let’s take a five-minute break?”

Wesley, skulking away toward the water fountains, said, “Fine.”

Jess ripped off her baseball mitt. Where’s a real baseball player when you need one?

Chase drove into the parking lot, turned off his engine, and sat in his car, staring at Parker Falls Athletics Field. It had certainly improved since the days he’d practiced here—the grass was well-maintained, and the clubhouse looked bigger and freshly painted. His eyes landed on the sign above the entrance: Chase Taynor Field. He dropped his head back against the leather of his headrest. Great. The expectations just kept getting higher. His parents had never mentioned that the field had been renamed.

He’d spent the day driving around Parker Falls, reacquainting himself with all the changes that had happened in the years he’d been gone. Though he’d teased Jess about nothing being different around town, there were a lot of things that he’d noticed just weren’t the same. He had managed to go all day without being recognized, which had been a relief.

Now, taking a break from his tour, he scrunched down in his seat and checked his messages. Nothing. Nothing from Spencer, and nothing from Heather. After he’d ignored her call at the diner, he’d tried several times to call her back, only to be sent straight to voice mail.

Chase let his mind drift to seeing Jess at the diner. He guessed he’d been hoping that she’d somehow lost her appeal since their breakup. It would have soothed his bruised ego. Petty, but he was starting to get the picture that the person he’d grown into these past few years wasn’t the most upstanding of guys anyway. And that realization was gnawing at him more and more. This trip home was supposed to have been an escape, not another headlong leap into old misadventures, but he couldn’t keep himself from wanting to see Jess again.

Between worrying about his career, his failing relationship, and the friction with his dad, he didn’t need a complication like Jess popping into his life, but the pull was definitely there. Chase rested his head on his steering wheel, feeling overwhelmed. It honked loudly. As if he’d conjured her, across the park, Jessica appeared and noticed Chase. He slunk down farther in his seat.

Jessica squinted. “Chase? Chase!” She waved and then walked over to his car.

Be cool, Taynor.

“Hey!” she said with that million-watt smile on her face. He had been stupid to think that her attractiveness would have waned at all in the years he’d been away. If anything, she was prettier.

Chase faked having just seen her—probably poorly—and gave her a big smile. “Oh, hey. How’s it going?”

“Good!” She looked at him slightly askance.

“Good,” he responded somewhat dumbly.

“What are you doing here?” There was a small crease between her eyebrows. She eyed him warily.

She thinks you’re a stalker. Chase scrambled for an explanation.

I’m checking out my field. No, that sounded arrogant.

Just cruising around town! What? Why? Because he wasn’t actually a middle-aged man, but a teenaged boy?

“I’m just, uh, I have a…there’s a loose wire underneath my dash here.” Smooth. It’s got rental plates, genius. She knows it’s not yours.

Jessica’s expression hadn’t changed. “Right. Do you need me to call for a tow?”

“No. No, I just fixed it. It’s all fixed now.”

Jessica, thankfully letting him off the hook he was squirming on, said, “So any news on the job front?”

“It’s percolating. It’s going to take a few days, though, but it’s looking really good.” Was he getting any better at lying? He didn’t think so.

“So in the meantime, you’re”—she searched for the words—“hiding out?”

Chase put on his dealing-with-the-press face. “Please. I’m not ‘hiding out.’ I am ‘lying low.’” That didn’t sound convincing, even to Chase.

“Besides, I mean, who doesn’t like the solitude of a plush sports car with a great stereo system?” As if he were really selling it, he rubbed the leather-encased steering wheel lovingly.

Jessica’s eyes narrowed. She’d always had the uncanny ability to see right through him—and his bravado.

“Come on. Out with you. There’s someone I want you to meet.” She beckoned a young boy over as Chase craned to see over the hood.

“Get out of the car. Come on!” she insisted.

Chase was pretty sure she had just used her mom voice on him—and, again, he was surprised at how attractive he found it. He climbed out of the Mercedes, giving the boy a genuine smile. He recognized the kid from the photo at the diner.

Chase asked, “And who’s this big guy?”

Wes skidded to a stop beside his mother. His eyes widened. “I’m Wesley.”

Jessica said, “Wes, this is Chase. We went to high school together.”

Chase held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Jessica nudged Wes, who shook Chase’s hand. “Chase is a baseball player, too,” she explained to Wes.

Realization dawned. Wesley said, “Wait. You’re Chase Taynor? From Boston?”

“Yep, little man. One and the same.”

Chase braced for the kid to ask him about that ill-fated pitch, but instead, Wesley was silent with awe. When the boy had recovered, he seemed to need a little more verification than just his mom’s introduction.

“The Chase Taynor? We’re on Chase Taynor Field!” Wes exclaimed.

Chase laughed and found himself grinning wider. It had been a while since anyone had genuinely been impressed by him. Most of the platitudes he heard on a daily basis back in Boston came with strings attached. “Guess they had to call it something, right?”

With another gentle nudge, Jess moved Wes in the direction of the playing field. “All right, buddy. Let’s get back to work.”

Wesley whispered something to Jessica, eyeing Chase.

“No, honey,” she responded to the boy. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“But, Mom, just ask him,” Wesley pleaded.

Chase didn’t like the looks of this.

“Sweetie”—her voice had become stern—“I’m sure that he has other commitments.”

“But, Mom, you don’t know how to pitch. And there’s a real pitcher standing right here!”

Jessica sighed. “Wesley would like to know if you could help him with some baseball tips.”

“Uh, well, I am kind of busy,” Chase stammered.

Jessica said, “See, he’s kind of busy.”

“But he was just sitting in his car,” Wesley whined.

Chase couldn’t help but break into a laugh. “Kid’s got tenacity, huh?”

Wesley put on a pretty major case of puppy dog eyes. “C’mon. Please!”

Wesley’s moxie certainly reminded him of Jess. But as Chase considered Wes’s dark hair, comparing it to Jess’s shining golden locks, he couldn’t help but notice that Wes favored Davis quite a bit. Chase wondered if Jess was reminded of her ex-husband every time she saw her son. He shot a quick glance at Jess’s wary face. She looked as if she were bracing for him to say no, as though she were used to being disappointed. Chase felt a sharp, sudden sense of anger toward Wes’s absentee dad. He cracked.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll do it.” He didn’t miss how Jess’s posture relaxed, how the hands that she’d shoved into her pockets went slack. It felt good knowing that his answer had made that apprehensive look disappear from her face. Her smile returning was a bonus.

She leaned in. “Do you do have any idea what you just agreed to?”

Chase threw up his hands. “The kid gave me no choice!”

“That’s true.” Laughter bubbled up from her, and Chase found himself chuckling along with her.

“All right,” she said, the smile reaching her warm hazel eyes now. “See you tomorrow.” She didn’t look away immediately, and her eyes remained on his for a second or two longer than normal. He shook his head and turned back toward his car. What had he just gotten himself into?