If there was one thing Rachel had learned from watching Marie Kondo, she needed to find something that sparked Brady’s joy.
The joy Kellan had on the baseball field.
“Rachel, how are you doing this fine afternoon?” Travis asked, his words low like he meant them for only her, even though Molly was right there with them.
Rachel slid her gaze to him. He was staring at her, and not like she was funny. Not like he’d been staring before.
She cleared her throat. “Great. I’m great.”
“Gavin couldn’t make it,” Travis said, his voice low and, God bless the man, sympathetic.
“I know. He called. I guess you drew the short straw?” she asked, her gut plummeting.
The boys didn’t get to see their dad as often as she’d have preferred—Gavin traveled a lot for the work he did with the family company. He’d taken over management of the Puffle Yum foundation, charitable work that he seemed to approach the same way Brady approached baseball. Like it was just something to do to pass the time.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” Travis asked, feigning insult and refocusing on the field. “I came to watch my nephews kick some ass on the field.”
Used to be, the boys would trip all over themselves for Gavin’s attention. Lately, they seemed to have resigned themselves to the fact that he had other priorities. Rachel did her best to fill their lives up so much, they didn’t notice when Gavin couldn’t be there.
Rachel took the last steps to the park bench where she usually watched the games—away from the stands, but still with a full view of the game.
“Good thing I got here when I did.” Travis looked straight ahead, his eyes moving from Kellan to Brady and back again. “I consider it my civic duty to save men’s balls from the vise grip of the mommy brigade.”
Oh, look, the rest of the mommy brigade. Rachel waved to her other friends already in the stands. Maybe they’d come to her rescue.
Happily married, perpetually chill April was their yoga-loving friend who also managed a blog, a podcast, and a web community. Brown hair always in a low ponytail, light complexion, and a smile that seemed to make a person relax on contact, April was the real deal. The Calm Mom, her brand, was popular all around the country. Her reach made sense, because April’s abundance of tranquility was impressive.
She sat next to Kaiya, their resident multilevel marketing salesperson. With black hair cut in an A-line and flawless gold-toned skin, her words held a perpetual kindness that made everyone want to support her business. She sold all-natural skin care products she’d discovered while visiting family in Japan two years ago. The company was huge in Asia and becoming bigger and bigger every month in the States. The overnight serum was the most kick-ass cream Rachel had ever tried. Not to say that a serum could change a woman’s life, but Kaiya’s was just that good.
“How do you meet women, Mr. Frank?” Molly asked, getting down to business.
“Well, I’m glad you asked, Ms. Molly.” Travis settled in beside Rachel. “Because I meet women the old-fashioned way.”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
“What’s the old-fashioned way?” Rachel asked.
Dammit.
He paused, looking from Rachel to Molly and back to Rachel. Something curled in Rachel’s belly and she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. The same feeling she always had when Travis was around. One part curiosity and two parts stay the hell away because, danger, danger. Player, player.
“They come to me.” He grinned then, and that grin made Rachel seriously consider swiping right on his profile picture.
“I suggest clients show off their strengths,” Molly said. “Do the things they’re good at. Attract a potential partner that way.”
“Then I guess I’d be doing the laundry for him on the first date,” Rachel said. Laundry was one thing she was exceptionally good at. “Since I can get anything out of cotton, maybe we should meet at the laundromat. Offer to separate his colors. Bonus, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll still have the laundry done.”
That was some seriously mommy logic going on right there.
“You could tell him how much you like your laundry good and wet,” Molly said, the last word coming out on a sultry breath.
“It makes sense. Besides, if you’re equating meeting a man to sex, then laundry is totally like sex,” Rachel added, apparently rolling with the nonsensical bouncing around the ball field.
“I think you might have sex with the wrong people, if you’re comparing it to laundry.” Travis held up his hands. “I’m not judging. I’m just sayin’.”
“Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’ve never thought of it like that?” Rachel asked.
“Like a chore I have to do?” He seemed to take a mental inventory of his past partners. “Nope.”
