He lay down beside me, bringing the scent of fresh grass, dirt, and the rich, oily smell of his leather mitt. “And what are we doing here on the floor?”
“I was too tired to remain upright for another second,” I said.
“And how do you feel about the book?”
“There’s always more I could have done, but I guess I feel okay. It might be terrible.”
“Mom, you always say that, and then your readers love it.”
“Is that true?” I turned on my side to look at him.
He laughed. “Mom, look at your reviews.”
“You know I don’t do that.” God forbid I saw anything critical. I wouldn’t sleep for a week. “How was practice?”
“Awesome. I hit a home run during a practice scrimmage. Coach Alex made a big deal about it too. Peter’s so lucky.” The wistfulness in his tone hurt my heart. He would never say it out loud, but I knew he wanted a father. His biological one had notwalked, but ran, when I’d told him I was pregnant. In the man’s defense, we’d only dated a few months when I woke up one morning feeling nauseous. If he had hung around, it might have helped financially, but I knew he wasn’t the type of man who would make a good husband and father. I’d decided to have the baby on my own and never looked back.
“That’s wonderful. I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s game.”
“It’s supposed to be great weather.” He sat up. “I think we should go to The Pelican to celebrate you finishing your book.”
I, too, sat up, sitting cross-legged, noticing a coffee stain on my sweatpants. “And your home run.” It was a Wednesday evening. Which meant Hunter would be behind the bar. The man I could not stop thinking about. I couldn’t go like this. My hair probably smelled like a greasy floor at a diner. Some makeup wouldn’t hurt either. How long had it been since I’d left the house? Was it Saturday at Esme and Grady’s wedding?
“I don’t think a home run counts if it’s at practice,” Tyler said, sounding modest.
“Oh, it counts, young man.” I made a prayer gesture with my hands. “Give me an hour to get ready. I need to shower.”
“Thank God you know that.”
“Very funny.”
“I’ll shower too and meet you downstairs in an hour.” Tyler headed toward the door, turning back to look at me. “I think Hunter works tonight.”
I played dumb. “Yeah?”
“Wear something nice.”
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He raised his hands, looking way too innocent. “I told you, I’m out of the matchmaking game.”
I wasn’t the only one who could play dumb in this house.
The shower felt like heaven.Like I’d been camping for a week in the great outdoors. My dad had taken me on camping adventures every summer when I was a kid. He’d been an English teacher with summers off, and we’d enjoyed every one of those sun-drenched days. As much as I’d enjoyed our time together, nothing had ever felt as good as a shower after one of our epic trips.
I stood under it longer than necessary, working conditioner through the full weight of my hair. My mother’s hair. She’d given me my hair and my love of romance novels. Georgia Sinclair died when I was two, so I had no memories of her. But I had her paperback romance novels, with her notes in the margins and underlined sentences. I’d read the same books over and over, in a hopeful search to know my mother. What I’d found instead was an innate sense of how to craft a romance novel.
I had photos of Georgia. They were like looking in a mirror. We shared the same wild red hair and bright green eyes. I had my dad’s stories about her. Their courtship in Mobile, Alabama, starting when they were just fifteen years old, their time at university getting their teaching degrees. How excited she was to be a mother. How doting and interested she’d been in my every moment.
My dad, Beau Sinclair, had been my best friend. All my life. Until one day, when I came rushing into the house to tell him about another three-book deal from a publisher, and I found him in his favorite chair, a Dick Francis novel open on his chest. Sweet tea sweated on the table next to him. He had a slight smile on his face—the same one he wore whenever he’d spokenabout my mother. As if she’d been the first thing he saw when he passed from this world to the hereafter. I prayed that was true.
As it always did when I thought of him, an ache like homesickness mixed with regret and longing swept through my body.Oh, Dad, I miss you so much.
But he didn’t answer. Still, I could sense him nearby, guiding me, keeping watch over Tyler. He’d want me to be open to the idea of love. In fact, I felt certain he was disappointed in my lack of courage when it came to romance. It’s just that no man I’d ever met could measure up to my father. Or the way he’d felt about my mother. Could anyone ever love me like that? Anyway, I had a lot of love in my life, just not the romantic kind. I should be thankful for what I did have, not wish for more.
An image of Hunter at Esme and Grady’s wedding flashed before my eyes. I’d had a few glasses of wine and was dancing by myself, enjoying every moment. I happened to glance over toward the bar to find Hunter staring at me. He’d quickly averted his eyes, but I’d seen something in his expression that made me think—maybe he feels it too?
Never mind all that. I needed to get ready. Tyler was waiting.
