Single (Stockton Beavers #1) (10 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Luke

I think she was going to let me kiss her this time, and I should've gone for it, but my pride wouldn't have survived another direct hit. If I'd tried it and she rebuffed me…
again
, there'd be no moving forward from there. And I want to keep the dream of us alive, that maybe somehow I can still get her to like me like that.

"Can you believe Hoff is wearing his wedding tux?" Dan snickers next to me as we stand with the rest of our teammates on the auction block. "His marriage is long over, but he claims it's the only one that fits him right."

"Well, I can relate to that," I reply, looking down at my perfectly hemmed cuffs, the ones Roberta finished sewing for me this morning.

"I don't even recognize you, man," Dan busts me. "Living with a woman has really cleaned up your act."

"Yeah, but what good is it?" I mumble. "If she's not here to bid on me."

I glance over the heads of the attendees filling the seats of Beaver Field's VIP lounge area. We're all lined up in a row, and our collective mood is not good. We lost the day game we played in, and based on the amount of muttering in the clubhouse as we changed into our formal wear, everyone wants to get this over with as quickly as possible. Most of the guys have wives or girlfriends who aren't too happy about this whole "win-a-date-with-their-man" thing. According to most of them, if some smokin' hot babe snaps them up, there's going to be hell to pay when they get home.

But I don't have that problem. I don't have a girlfriend. The only one waiting for me at home is the one woman whom I'd like to see in that role, but the truth of the matter is I don't think Roberta cares who I end up with tonight.

"C'mon, man." Dan pokes me in the ribs. "Does Landry even know you hired her yet?"

"No."

Dan shakes his head. "Dude, you're playing with fire."

"Mom needs her," I protest.

"Yeah, more like
you
need her," he scoffs.

"All right, enough about me. Who do you think you're gonna get?" I elbow him in the ribs, a lot harder than he jabbed me.

"Just you wait," he chuckles, rubbing his side.

"The horseplay doesn't stop just because we're all dressed up, Danny Boy," I retort. "C'mon, which one?"

He does a quick scan of the room. "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't mind getting to know that blonde a little better."

I gaze in the general direction of where he's looking. "Who?"

"Very funny, Single," he groans. "She's like the hottest girl here. I think every guy's head turned the minute she walked through the door, and you're telling me you didn't even notice her? Typical. She's staring right at you."

And that's when I make eye contact with Heidi, my speech therapist. She waves at me, and I have no choice but to wave back.

Dan turns to me. "Jesus, you know her?"

I shrug. "I know everyone in Stockton."

"Yeah, well. Tell me how you know her," he demands.

I look away and shove my hands in my pockets. "She has a job at the rehab center downtown, and she worked with me after my injury. No big deal."

I feel the weight of his stare on me. "So you have a history with her?"

I smirk up at him. "I went to high school with her, if that's what you mean."

"So are you telling me to back off?" he asks flat-out. "That you didn't take her out for coffee to thank her for helping you or ask her to dinner to celebrate your recovery?"

"Well…"

"I know you, Single. You're too nice a guy
not
to do something like that."

"But I didn't lead her on… I didn't—"

"Will you two morons shut up already?" Hoff steps forward and glares at us from farther down the line. "It doesn't matter who you end up with because it's not like either one of you is gonna get laid."

A lot of the guys laugh at his remark, and I think it's the first time anyone's smiled since we've been up here.

"Well, at least we're not wearing a brown, ugly-ass tux like you are," Dan taunts him.

Hoff proudly tugs on his lapels. "This right here is a genuine baby-maker. Every time my ex-wife saw me in it, she couldn't keep her hands off me."

The snorts of laughter only get louder.

"Well, good luck with that because that guy in the front row who's wearing your jersey? He looks like he's waited his whole life to go on a date with you," Danny zings him mercilessly. "I don't know why. It's not like a beat-up old catcher like you will be able to bend over for him."

A hint of a smile crosses Hoff's lips as he straightens his shoulders and buttons his jacket. "At least, I don't have to indulge in the Kings' sloppy seconds. Unlike your friend."

A nervous rumble goes down the row.

"Single, don't," Danny warns me.

But no way am I backing down. I turn to face him. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Hoff."

"Oh, no? First, you're calling her on the bus. And now she's what…living with you or something? I wonder how much you have to pay her for her to get down on her—"

I get out of the line and position myself right in front of him. "I pity your ex-wife."

"Oh, yeah? And why's that?"

"Because you're obviously obsessed with the kind of woman you'll never have, the kind who'll never give you the time of day."

His eyes flare in surprise, and I know that I guessed right.

"For the second time, let me remind you that you don't get to talk about her like that." I glare up at him. "Or any other woman, for that matter, including your ex. Danny's right. No wonder she left you. She probably couldn't stand to look at you in that ugly-ass suit."

Sometimes the only way to get a bully to back down is to stand up to him. If there's anything Dad taught me, he taught me that.

I stride back to my place as the rest of the team falls silent. Everyone's aware this isn't over. There's going to be hell to pay for me dressing down Hoff in front of everybody.

"I was taking care of it," Danny whispers to me as the bidding gets underway. "You didn't have to go and do that."

I throw back my shoulders and smile out at the crowd. "Oh, yes, I did."

Chapter Sixteen

Roberta

"That's it." I nod at Luke's mom from the chair I'm standing on. "Keep dabbing the corner."

"Like this?" she asks, completely immersing a sponge…and the sleeves of her nightgown, in a bowlful of water.

I jump off, hoping to stop her before she tips it over. "Yes, but you have to wring it out first," I say gently, before taking the bowl away from her.

It's ten o'clock at night, and I'm wallpapering Luke's kitchen. It's insane, I know. But I needed something to keep my mind off of what's going on at Beaver Field tonight.

"Where are all my pretty flowers?" his mom wails, gazing at the burnt scraps that are all over the floor. "I like my pretty flowers…"

"They died," I mumble, too tired to think of a better excuse. "So we're putting up new flowers."

"They died?" she cries. "Then we have to bring them to the funeral home. Bury them with my husband."

She gets up from her chair. She rarely, if ever, remembers that her husband is dead. And when she does, it greatly upsets her.
Now look what I've done… Just because I'm too busy thinking about the outcome of that stupid date auction doesn't mean I should just say things off the top of my head.

I drop what I'm doing and hurry over to her. "Mrs. S., please sit down. They didn't die." I hold up one of the blackened pieces I've already ripped down. "See? They're still here. I thought it was time for you to look at different ones…
prettier
ones…ones that are painted on cups and saucers, just like your favorite tea set." I turn over a portion of the new pattern and glide her hand over it. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"I'd say."

I turn around and there's Luke, standing in the doorway, staring at us. He's in his suit, and man, oh man, does he look good in it. The crisp white shirt, the black silk tie, the leather belt cinching his taut, trim waist—he's all man in that suit. And I can't help but swoon over how perfectly it accentuates the compact, yet powerful, lines of his body. However, what's really getting to me is how his hair's been combed-out straight. It's hitting him at his shoulders and bringing out his natural red highlights, big-time. Right now, there's nothing I'd like more than to take it between my fingers, smooth it behind his ears,
and
…

"What are you two girls doing up so late?" he inquires, crossing one foot over the other as he leans back against the wall, taking everything in.

My face feels like it's on fire, and I turn away from him. "I'm sorry. I know I should've asked you first."

"It's okay," he replies softly. "But just so you know, you don't have to do all this. I don't expect you to."

I keep my head down. "It's no bother. I like having something to do."

He strides into the kitchen to get a better look. "Where did you get the wallpaper?"

"When I took your mom to her doctor's appointment today. There was a hardware store across the street. And I thought, why not?" I look up and gaze at him expectantly. "Do you like it?"

I nervously await the verdict as he looks it over. "Yeah, it's nice," he says, smiling at me. "Really nice."

His mom smacks his hand away, all too ready to scold him. "Don't touch."

"Yes, Ma," he chuckles, winking at me. "Your kitchen, your rules."

"Not anymore," she grumbles. "It's hers now."

"Whose?" he asks, playing along.

"Hers," she cries, shoving her finger in my face.

"Mrs. S.—" I start.

"Oh, why did you go and marry someone, Luke, and not even tell me?" she moans, clutching her stomach.

Luke shoots me a plaintive glance before kneeling down beside her. "Ma, we're not married. Roberta's here to help you. She's your personal care aide, remember?"

"I don't care who she is." She rests her head on the table. "She has her eye on you. I know it. All the girls in school like my little Lukey."

Luke bursts out laughing. "That's because I'd always listen to them when they sobbed their hearts out about the boys they really liked."

"No, no, no…" She shakes her head. "They were all in love with you. They were all in love with you. They were all in love—"

Luke talks over her when she keeps repeating herself. "How did her appointment go? What did the doctor say?"

But I don't want to get into that now—not in the middle of one of her episodes.

"She's just overtired—long day. It's my fault for not putting her to bed sooner." I place my hands under her arms and urge her to sit up. "C'mon, Mrs. S. It's time to go to sleep."

"No, I'll sleep right here," she moans, scrunching up her eyes.

But I don't want Luke to think that I'm incapable of managing her when she gets like this. The last thing I want is for him to harbor any doubts about what goes on around here when he's not home.

"Mrs. S.," I try again. "When you wake up tomorrow and come downstairs, all your pretty flowers will be waiting for you."

She lifts her head. "No, they won't. They won't!"

Luke puts his hand on my arm. "Why don't you let me take this one?"

"But I—"

He rises to his feet. "When she gets to this point, trust me, it'll be easier on everybody if I just step in before she works herself into a frenzy."

Before I can respond, Luke bends down and scoops her into his arms. She flails at him and starts screaming, "Put me down! Put me
down
!"

"It's okay, Ma," he whispers by her ear. "I've got ya. Everything's gonna be all right."

She pounds on his back, yanks at his hair, and I can't bring myself to watch as he carries her, struggling against him, out the door and up the stairs.

I push my hair away from my face and stare at the mess I made out of the kitchen. There's wallpaper everywhere. Half of it's up, half of it's down. Bottom line, I'm going to be up all night trying to get this done.

But with no other choice, I get to work, and a half hour later, Luke returns with his jacket off and his tie undone. He sighs, heading toward the refrigerator and pulling out the orange juice. Raising it to his lips, he groans, "That was rough."

"Hey, not from the carton," I call out, my two hands firmly pressed against the wall.

He lowers it sheepishly. "Oh yeah, I forgot." But when he sees what I'm doing, he puts it down and hurries over. "Here, let me help you with that."

"No, I got it," I insist.

But he doesn't listen. Instead, he stands directly behind me, the heat from his body rolling off him and hitting me square in the back. He splays his hands beside mine, careful not to touch me.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks, his breath inadvertently fanning my hair across my face.

I let go of the wall. "Smooth it out so there are no bumps or ridges underneath."

I shake my head. But he's so close, my hair winds up hitting him in the face. He trembles before taking a deep breath. He doesn't move, and I don't know what to do as his whole body tenses around me. Flustered, I back right into him, and he lets out a low groan. Realizing my mistake, I duck to the side and slip under his arm while still managing to step on his foot.

"What, are you trying to kill me here?" he moans, resting his forehead against the wall.

Frazzled, I lash back at him. "Well, you didn't have to go frisking me like that. Save it for your date with Heidi."

He looks back at me over his shoulder. "What…? How do you even know that she…?"

"That she
won
you?" I retort. "Maybe because Landry texted me the photo of 'the hot babe' who spent nearly a thousand dollars for the pleasure of your company."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Now why would he do that?"

"I don't know, maybe because every penny from the auction is going to the cancer foundation he set up in honor of his late wife, and let me tell you, that Heidi of yours certainly got his attention. She placed the highest bid of the night. $999.99 to be exact. C'mon, number ninety-nine. How cute is that?"

"Would you quit saying that? She's not
my
Heidi." Luke releases his hold on the wallpaper, and the top corner droops over. "Roberta, it's not what you think."

I drag the chair over and push him aside. "Oh, don't get me wrong, Luke. I think it's wonderful how you pimped yourself out to raise money for charity. How very noble of you."

"
I
did?" he whispers heatedly. "You're the one who dressed me up and sent me out there." He holds the chair steady as I climb onto it to press the wallpaper back into place. "So sue me, but I just don't understand why you're getting so upset over this. God, now I know what the other guys were talking about when they said…"

I glower down at him. "Oh, don't stop there. Go on. Tell me what they said about me."

He raises his hand to his neck, something he always does when he's nervous. "Nothing. Forget I even said anything."

Angrily, I clomp down to the floor. "Wow, it must've been pretty bad if you can't even repeat it."

"Kind of like how you won't tell me what Mom's doctor had to say today."

My eyes meet his. He didn't forget. Of course not. No matter what, his mom is always the first thing on his mind. And I don't want to argue with him anymore, not about something as important as this. It's time to give him the abbreviated version, at least for now.

"He doesn't think having me here is going to be enough, especially with you being gone all the time," I admit. "He feels you should add a security system to the doors so that she'll trigger an alarm if I'm upstairs and she tries to go outside."

"Did you tell him about…" He swallows before continuing, "About how you found her in the woods outside Beaver Field?"

"No," I reply, and he sighs in relief. "But he did find the burn marks on her hands and I had to tell him how she got them, Luke. I couldn't lie to him."

"And I bet he handed you brochures from every nursing facility in a ten-mile radius, didn't he?" Luke mutters. "That's his usual solution whenever something goes wrong."

"He did mention it."

"And do you agree with him?"

"I don't have a wall full of medical degrees to back me up," I state plainly. "My opinion doesn't matter. His is the one you should trust."

He starts collecting all the scraps of singed wallpaper off the floor and crumples them into a ball.

"Don't." I reach for his arm. "You're gonna get your suit all dirty."

"Like I even care anymore." He shoves the wad into the trash before turning to leave the room. "I know you're trying to help, Roberta. But right now, you're just not."

I let him walk away from me. He's left me alone again, but unlike last night, I don't feel frustrated. Instead, I feel so very, very incomplete.