“My nephew is with me if that helps you make a decision.”
“Oh, you have a nephew?” She immediately covers her face. Damn, she’s cute when she’s blushing, which is often considering how awkward our encounters have been. “I’m sorry, I don’t know . . .”
I can’t contain my laughter and I don’t want to torture her anymore. I stand, move behind her, and pull out her chair. “Nolan and I would really like it if you and Chase joined us for dinner.”
“We don’t want to intrude.”
“Hey, Chase!” Saved by my nephew. Although, he’s only a temporary distraction. Being this close to her, I can smell her perfume. The sweet scent sends my thoughts into overdrive and makes my mouth water with anticipation of a goodnight kiss at her car door when we leave, which is not going to happen. Something tells me that Bellamy isn’t a kiss and run kind of gal. I clear my mind of all the thoughts I have about her and try to pay attention to the boys. This lasts for about ten seconds when I turn slightly to see if she’s going to sit down. She’s staring, boring holes into me. Not out of anger, but attraction. I can see the desire in her eyes and start to think that maybe a kiss later isn’t out of the question.
“Looks like you’re about to join us for dinner.” My words come out too softly and I fear that she’s going to tell me no, but she doesn’t.
“Looks that way.”
She sits down and I go back to my seat, jamming my thigh into the corner of the table. It fucking hurts and if I were anywhere else, I’d let everyone around me know. I bite the inside of my cheek and grunt through the pain.
“Bellamy, this is my nephew, Nolan.”
“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says.
“You too, Nolan.”
“Here.” I hand the boys a cup of tokens. “I’ll come get you when the pizza arrives. Stay together, buddy system and all that.” Nolan and Chase walk side-by-side, bumping shoulders. I want to ask his mom if he has trouble in school, with making friends, but don’t want to seem like I’m nosey. The boy gives off a vibe that he’s lonely.
“How much do I owe you for those tokens?”
“Not a single thing.” I lean back in the chair and stretch my legs out under the table. I probably look like a fool. I definitely feel like one. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking right now with me kicked back, my arm in a sling, looking like some roughed up gangster.
“Okay, then.” She smiles. “How much do I owe you for putting a smile on my son’s face?”
I know my features change when she says this. It’s my opening and I’m going to take it. I lean forward. “About that . . . what can you tell me about the Little League program?”
My question has caught her off guard, which wasn’t my plan. Bellamy Patrick is easy to read. There’s definitely something going on here and it involves her son.
“I grew up here,” she starts off. “Left after high school, went to college in Washington, fell in love, got married, had a kid and subsequently fell out of love.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Actually, I should be. I’m sorry, you asked about Little League and here I am giving you a recap of my life story.”
“I’ve enjoyed it so far,” I tell her. “Please continue.”
“Right,” she says, smiling. “Where was I? Oh, after my divorce, I thought raising Chase here would be a good thing. We moved shortly after the baseball season started last year. Obviously, we missed try-outs, but Brett said Chase had potential and that I should send him to these camps and clinics. Plus, Brett holds these open practices or whatever and the kids can go work out with him. Whatever Chase asked to do, I did. We were both confident that he’d make the team this year.”
“And he didn’t?”
She shakes her head. “Nope and when I ask Brett . . .” she pauses, looks down at the table and sighs. “Anyway, Brett says he needs to work harder.”
The waitress arrives at our table, poised to take our order. “Do you know what you want?” I ask Bellamy. She nods and tells me. “Okay, we’ll have a large cheese, large white and a family salad.”
“And to drink?”
I glance at Bellamy. “Chase can drink soda if Nolan can.”
“Four sodas,” I tell the waitress. Once she’s gone, my attention is back on the beautiful woman across from me. “When I had those fields built, it was so kids had a place to play. When I was growing up, we played at my parent’s ranch. My dad cleared a space, we put some bleachers in which were no more than 4 x 10’s or whatever they were, sitting on stumps. But we lined the field and played until dark. My mom would even run this makeshift concession stand. After I went to college, my dad let the grass grow over it, which was fine because once I signed my deal, I had those fields done up.
“Anyway, my point is, Chase should be playing, and I don’t understand why there are kids without a team right now.”
Bellamy looks around, her facing growing g