Making the Play Read online

  “You should ask Maddie. She works at the school a ­couple days a week. She probably knows at least a little about the kid.”

  Their sister, Madison, the only girl allowed into their boy’s club, was a speech therapist. She would probably be able to fill him in on everything he needed to know about James, and his wary mother. But Grant wondered if he wasn’t just asking for more trouble than he needed right now. He hoped to be leaving town come spring. He wasn’t looking for another reason to tie himself down in a small town, and a romance, even a casual one, with a kid involved would do just that.

  “MOM, I CANNOT believe James did this to me.”

  The next morning Bethany paced the small master bedroom of her tiny cottage home with the cell phone pressed to her ear. It wasn’t fancy, but the house was hers and had a huge yard for James to play in. Plus, it was walking distance to Hidden Falls Elementary. She’d easily fallen in love with the two-­bedroom house when she’d move to town over the summer.

  “Honey, you don’t really think he did it on purpose, do you?” Her mother’s laughter rang through the phone. “He’s six and he just met one of the Mustangs face-­to-­face. Your father would have done the same thing.” Her mother paused for a moment. “You could have just said no,” she pointed out.

  “I did say no. But you didn’t see James’ face, Mom.” Bethany began swiping hangers aside, trying to find something to wear to work. “And this wasn’t just one of the Mustangs, this was Grant McQuaid, the only Mustangs player in James’ eyes. Then they pinkie promised.”

  “They what?”

  “You know, where you link pinkie fingers . . . it doesn’t matter.” She waved a hand in the air. “If you’d seen him, you’d know this was probably the greatest thing to ever happen to him. How am I supposed to keep telling him no after that?”

  “So go to the park. Have a good time.”

  “I just don’t want James to get hurt. If he gets too attached—­”

  “Honey, it’s not like you’re marrying this guy. You’re going to the park, with your son. Relax.”

  She was right, Bethany was reading far too much into a simple afternoon at the park. Just because Grant McQuaid had asked her to dinner didn’t mean he would again. And she could talk with James before they saw him, make it clear to him that this was just some time at the park and nothing else. She felt the muscles in her shoulders relax slightly. Her mother always had a way of calming her worries. Bethany only prayed she could be the same kind of mother for James.

  “Besides,” her mother began. “Maybe it’s time to start dating again.”

  And there is was. The suggestion that there might be more to this.

  “Mom,” Bethany scolded. “This guy’s a football star. He has his pick of a million women. I’m sure the last thing he’s looking for is a single mom. Besides, you saw what happened with Matthew. He couldn’t handle things.”

  Couldn’t handle the pressure of his job, couldn’t handle being a father, couldn’t handle a son with a disability, couldn’t handle saying goodbye in person.

  “It’s hard enough to explain to James why his father isn’t around like his friends’ dads and why he sounds different from everyone else when he talks. He doesn’t need to get close to someone else only to have that person bail on him. I won’t put him through that kind of emotional turmoil. The move and making friends has already been hard enough.”

  She heard her mother sigh into the phone. “James is a tough kid, Bethie. He can handle more than you give him credit for.”

  “But he shouldn’t have to, Mom, and I’m going to make sure he doesn’t have to as long as I can.”

  She pulled a white sundress from her closet. Paired with a jean jacket and her boots, it would be a casual look without looking like she was trying to impress anyone.

  Are you?

  Bethany didn’t want to listen to the nagging voice in her head, let alone acknowledge the idea that she might want Grant McQuaid to think she was attractive. It had been a long time since she’d felt attracted to any man, and to think that a man who could have his choice of women would give her more than a passing glance was flattering. Okay, maybe exhilarating was a better description, she realized as her heart pounded against her ribs. Her body was just going to have to settle back down and control its hormonal outbursts because she was not about to risk falling for someone like Grant McQuaid when she had a responsibility to watch out for James. A guy like him would never want more than a quick hookup with a small-­town girl like her and that was the last thing she would give in to, regardless of her excitable pulse. She was too responsible for that.

  “I’d better go, Mom. I still need to take a shower and dry my hair.”

  “What,” her mother teased, “no ponytail? I thought that’s all you wore.”

  A shirtless James came and stood in the doorway of her walk-­in closet, watching her, patiently waiting for her to get off the phone. “Not always, Mom,” she said with a laugh. “We’ll call you later. I love you.”

  “Give my boy hugs and tell him Grammie loves him.”

  “I will,” she said as she disconnected the call. Bethany tipped her head to one side and smiled at her son. “What’s up?”

  “Do you know where my football jersey is? The one Grandpa got me?” He looked at her nervously and she wondered why.

  “It should be in your dresser. Let’s go look.”

  She took his little hand in hers, his blond hair still wet from his impromptu bath. She was amazed at times with how grown-­up he acted for a six-­year-­old. He’d already surpassed her signing skills and could read lips like a pro, but it was his calm acceptance and beguiling charm that won over everyone who met him. It was a strange feeling to wish to be more like her son but Bethany did. If she could face adversity with even half of his upbeat attitude, she’d consider her life well-­spent.

  He paused at his doorway, his little bare feet planted firmly. “Are you mad?”

  “Me? No, baby, why?” She squatted down so she was eye level with him.

  “Because you looked mad on the phone.” He brushed his little fingers over her forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles of her frown. “Did I make you mad?”

  “Oh, James, no. It’s just that Mommy doesn’t usually meet with strangers at the park so I’m a little nervous about it.”

  “But Grant plays football and said I could play with him. That means we’re friends.”

  She smiled at his simplistic views on the way life worked, wishing again that she could see the world through his eyes. “I guess you’re right but, sometimes, grown-­ups like to know each other a little better before they go places together. Even when they’re friends.”

  He pursed his lips, thinking about what she was trying to explain to him, so she stood up and opened the drawer where he kept his shirts. She found a bunch of t-­shirts already stuffed inside and knew he must have been trying on several, trying to decide on what to wear. Like mother like son, she thought. She moved the shirts aside, tugging the jersey from the bottom of the drawer.

  “Here it is,” she announced. James raised his arms and she slipped it over his head. “There, now you’re all set.”

  “I need his football.”

  “What football?”

  “Grant forgot to take his ball when he left yesterday. I need to bring it back to him at the park today.”

  She smiled. “Oh, honey, I think he was giving that to you.”

  James planted little fists on his hips and gave her a disapproving frown. “I can’t take things that aren’t mine, Mom. He forgot it so I was taking care of it until I can give it back.”

  She pinched her lips together, trying to hide her smile as he repeated her own words back to her. She’d taught him from a very young age that he shouldn’t take things that didn’t belong to him. It was nice to see he listened and understood. “Okay, you’re r
ight. Let me finish getting dressed and we’ll make sure the ball is still in the car.”

  “Hurry up, Mom,” he scolded, tapping his finger where a watch would eventually sit on his wrist. You’ll make us late, he signed.

  Okay, she signed back. Be patient.

  She was trying to share his excitement for their afternoon plans, and there was a part of her she didn’t want to acknowledge that was excited. The last time she’d had a date was in high school, with Matthew. But the thought of her ex-­husband was enough to squash any anticipation that might be building.

  This is not a date, she reminded herself as she hurried into her bathroom, checking the time on her alarm clock as she passed. She was going to have to forgo the shower if she didn’t want to be late for work. She fluffed up her dark hair with her fingers. Maybe she could manage to curl it. Bethany glanced back at the bedroom doorway and saw James waiting and smiled at her reflection. It looked like she was going to have to put it into a ponytail after all.

  Chapter Three

  BETHANY WAS EXHAUSTED. The last thing she wanted to do was to head to the park but James hadn’t stopped talking about meeting Grant McQuaid there today. She’d tried to shush him, especially when several of the older kids had suggested he was lying, but he wasn’t having any part of it. He was meeting with his hero today, at the park, and nothing was going to change that. Not even his mother’s exhaustion.

  “Wait, James,” she warned as he unbuckled himself from his booster seat before she’d even put the car into Park. “You have to stay buckled until the car is stopped.”

  “Sorry.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. He didn’t look one bit apologetic as he bounced in his seat, trying to see if Grant was already there waiting. “There he is!”

  James rose onto his knees and waved at Grant out the back window of her car. Reaching for the football on the seat, he held it up. Bethany quickly glanced into the rearview mirror, checking her makeup, even though she realized there was nothing she could do about it if she wanted to. She saw the reflection of Grant jogging toward them and quickly took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare herself for the next hour or so. Surely he didn’t expect them to stay longer than that.

  She opened her door, surprised to see Grant had gone to James’ door immediately. He lifted his brows in question and, when she nodded, he opened it for her son.

  “Hey, little man, I’ve been waiting for you.” Ready for some fun? he signed.

  James scrambled from his booster seat in the back of the car. “Yeah!”

  “Wait a minute. You can’t just run through the parking lot.” She walked around the back of the car and held out her hand. Instead of taking her hand the way he always did, James reached up and grasped Grant’s index finger.

  She felt a twinge of jealousy at her son’s choosing someone else over her but she couldn’t be too angry. At least her competition was his hero. She knew it meant James was growing up, even if it made her heart ache for it to happen. Grant looked over at her, as if recognizing the poignancy of James’ actions, his eyes filled with apology.

  “So, what do you want to do first?” Grant asked as James looked up at him with wide blue eyes.

  “Football.”

  Bethany tried to bite back a grin. “Of course.” She shrugged a shoulder at Grant. “Would you expect anything else?”

  “Probably not.” He pointed to an open area along one side of a field and headed toward it. “Why don’t we go over there?”

  His gaze slid over her and she felt the blood move through her veins slowly, growing hot, warming her from the inside out. “Your mom looks too pretty in her dress to play football so I guess it’s just the two of us boys.”

  She couldn’t deny the pleasure that swirled through her at Grant’s compliment. Even if she didn’t plan on dating him, it felt nice to know Grant thought she was attractive. She’d seen him in plenty of magazine articles with beautiful women beside him and, while it might be nothing more than a charming line, she couldn’t help the pleasure that swirled through her. Before she could thank him, Grant had turned his attention back to James.

  “Go long.”

  James immediately knew what to do and began running, looking behind him so he could turn when Grant threw the ball. In spite of Grant’s instructions, James turned toward him after only running about ten feet and Grant lobbed the ball into her son’s arms. She clapped for James, even though it was an easy catch. James was beaming from ear to ear, even when Grant ran toward him and scooped him into the air.

  “Blindside,” he teased, setting James back onto his feet. “Gotta watch out.”

  She settled herself in the shade of several trees, tucking her feet beneath her, and watched the pair as they played. She’d never seen James so happy, not even with his Grandfather. Granted, it wasn’t like her father had really been able to take James out and play with him this way. But it was almost like Grant had a connection to James, as if they could understand one another without words.

  Her worries about James’ safety faded as she watched Grant play ball with him, careful not to get rough but also discreet so that James didn’t notice his diligence. She laughed when James tucked the football in the crook of his elbow and acted like he was going to tackle Grant, only to run through his legs and spike the ball on the other side. It was obvious to her that Grant had known exactly what her son was doing but had allowed him to do it anyway.

  After almost an hour of watching the two play, Grant stumbled to where she sat and crumpled to the grass, flopping onto his back. James ran over and mimicked Grant, even folding his arms under the back of his head, just like the man lying beside her.

  “Whew, kid, you wore me out.”

  “I did?” James frowned for a moment, his brow furrowing, his lips pursed in an adorable pucker. He looked across the grassy knoll at the jungle gym nearby. “Since Grant is too tired, can I go play on the slides?”

  “It’s Mr. McQuaid,” she corrected. “And, yes. Just stay where I can see you, okay?”

  “Okay!” James ran off, heading for his favorite slide that twisted like a corkscrew.

  A nervous flutter began in her belly as soon as James left. She adjusted the skirt of her dress, fidgeting, all the while wondering why she was so nervous. She was acting like a girl on a blind date and this, most certainly, was not a date.

  “He’s a great kid.”

  She barely glanced in his direction but had already seen him cross his ankles. “Thanks.”

  Silence fell between them as they both watched James. But it wasn’t the awkward silence she expected, the ones where the longer it continued, the more uncomfortable it became. This was . . . nice. It was a companionable silence, like that of two ­people who’d known each other forever, who could just relax and be around one another without needing words. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt that way with anyone but her parents.

  And it scared the hell out of her.

  Whether she wanted to admit it or not, this was the closest she’d come to a date in over eight years, and sitting this close to this man was making her feel things she hadn’t realized she missed.

  Grant sat up quickly, turning toward her. “Hey, you okay? You look a little pale.”

  She fanned herself, feeling her cheeks heat even as she spoke. “I’m fine. It’s just warm out.”

  “We can leave if you want.” He started to rise.

  “No, I’m fine, really,” she insisted when he looked doubtful. Grant sat back down, even closer she realized.

  “You’re sure?” She nodded, trying to ignore the way her heart was beating at twice its usual pace. “You do look like you have a little color back.”

  His eyes twinkled with mischief and she realized he knew exactly why there was color in her cheeks. It was exactly the cocky arrogance she needed to see in order to get her hormones in check.

  “So,
are you in Hidden Falls to recuperate from your injury?”

  She saw his jaw clench slightly before he answered. “Yep.”

  “You grew up here, right?”

  He nodded. It was pretty obvious he didn’t want to talk about why he’d returned to Hidden Falls. But thanks to his charming her son and practically conning her in to acquiescence, she was out here with him instead of grading papers, so he could make polite conversation.

  “Then you’d know all the best places to take a six-­year-­old who likes to explore, wouldn’t you?”

  He turned to her with a slight grin, looking relieved at the change of subject. “I do. Have you taken him down to the river yet?” She shook her head. “Some great fishing.” His gaze caressed her again. “But if that’s not your thing—­”

  Bethany sat up straighter. “What makes you think fishing isn’t my thing?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. His gaze fell on the princess-­cut neckline of her dress before he laughed. “You seem sort of . . . girly. In a good way, of course.”

  “Girly? I’ll have you know, Mr. McQuaid, James didn’t learn how to juke just from watching you do it on T.V.”

  “Oh, really?” She could tell he was humoring her.

  “I was an All-­State hurdler and Powder Puff quarterback, thank you very much.”

  “Well, well, I stand corrected.” He acted impressed. “I think you might be able to show me a thing or two.”