Single (Stockton Beavers #1) (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Roberta

I watch Luke's eyelashes dust his cheeks as he sleeps, and his vulnerability tugs at my heartstrings. Last night, every protective instinct I possess was telling me to flee, to not put him in any more danger, to get out of Stockton and never come back. Yet upon waking and finding his face next to mine on the pillow, I know I can never leave him.

Not after last night, when he was so generous and giving, attuned to my every need. He heightened my senses with everything he did—the tender way he kissed my stomach before he interlaced his fingers through mine, his eyes never leaving my face. He let me know just how much I've come to mean to him. Honestly, I'd never felt anything like it before, and I know no man will ever be able to make me feel like that again, only him.

It's a revelation I wasn't expecting. I was simply seeking a memory of him to take with me, wherever I ended up. But something changed between us, something big. He shared that innermost part of himself, giving his heart to me without any intention of taking it back.

Now as his eyelids flutter open on the pillow, he gives me the smile of a man who's been given everything he could ever want, and that glow of happiness I see on his face binds me to him down to my very soul. I shiver when he caresses my face, nudging my nose with his.

"I'll keep you safe," he murmurs. "You can count on me."

And when he makes that sweet, whispered vow, I believe him.

After that, the weeks go by in a pleasurable blur. Some nights we end up in his room, other times in mine. I ache for him whenever he goes on the road, and our late-night phone calls extend well into the wee hours of the morning, neither one of us wanting to say goodbye to the other, both of us coming up with excuse after excuse to stay on the line and talk.

During that span, something miraculous happens. Luke begins to pound the tar out of the ball. It starts with a bloop single here, an infield hit there, but his confidence steadily grows as his batting average climbs from .200 to .250 to .275.

Tonight at Beaver Field, he celebrated the Fourth of July weekend in grand style, hitting for the cycle—belting a single, a double, a triple, and a home run, all in one game. And let's just say that when he got home, he was determined to create some fireworks of his own when he picked me up off the couch, tossed me over his shoulder, and carried me upstairs with him.

Now we're both on our backs, breathless and panting up at the ceiling fan. He turns to me. "Thank you."

I tilt my head to look at him. "For what?"

He peers deeply into my eyes. "For helping me find my game again."

I exhale sharply, getting flustered. "I had nothing to do with it. It's all you."

He rolls onto his side to stroke my face. "I beg to differ."

"But, Luke, I—"

His eyes crinkle in laughter. "You can never accept a compliment, can you?"

I knit my brow in frustration, knowing he's right. I've given him so much of me, more than I've given to any other man. Yet, I'm still holding a part of myself back, and he can sense it. I'm so afraid of allowing myself to be vulnerable that I've trained myself to be tough, hardening my heart against all comers.

Yet something inside of me shatters when he whispers, "You can lower the walls around your heart now."

"And why would I wanna do that?"

My stubborn streak is not going down without a fight. It's rallying to make a final stand, knowing full well it's been beaten. I pierce him with my stare, and his gaze softens even more.

"'Cause I'd never hurt you, Bobbie Jo. You can trust me."

Surprising even myself, I let out a whimper, moved beyond measure. He gives me a tender smile before silencing me with his lips. His kiss is sweet, gentle, but so full of meaning. Melting for him, I reach up to touch his face, just like he's touching mine, thanking him just like he thanked me.

When we break apart, he runs his thumb across my cheek. "Are you hungry?"

And I can't help but laugh. "Starved."

With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he asks, "Then how 'bout I throw something on the grill for us?"

I grin back at him, liking where he's going with this. "We'll have to be quiet. Your mom's asleep."

"We'll take everything out to the patio." He winks at me. "Aren't you used to dining al fresco with me by now?"

We sit up, and I kiss his cheek when he slides his T-shirt over my head and gently flips my curls out from underneath the collar. "Yeah, but it's so much nicer on a hot summer night."

He gets out of bed and hikes his shorts up over his hips. "And it's only gonna get even hotter…once I get you back in this bed." He gives me a devilish grin before offering me his hand. "But for now, let's eat."

I groan. "Why is the way to a man's heart always through his stomach?"

I smack his butt and try to scurry by him, but he's too fast for me as he wraps his arms around me from behind, kissing my neck. "You don't have to worry about that because you already have my heart, all of it."

I lean back against him as his hands traipse over my stomach. Closing my eyes, I savor their strength and their warmth. Outside the bedroom, Luke's not a touchy-feely guy. He doesn't have to have his hands all over me every minute of the day—and I like that about him. He doesn't smother me. He gives me space. And he's always respectful in front of his mom. But he's not above stealing a kiss whenever he can or lightly running a finger down my arm when he thinks his mom's not looking. But the midnight hours are a different story. They belong to us, and when we're alone, he's not shy in expressing his desire for me. As a woman, it's flattering to know just how much he wants me.

"Will your hunger for me ever be satisfied?" I tease him.

"Never," he whispers, close to my ear. "I'm just hoping I'm enough for you."

I spin around in his arms. "Of course, you are! How dare you say that!"

"I dunno." He shrugs, lowering his head. "It's just that beautiful women like you aren't usually into guys like me."

I grab ahold of his chin and tilt it up. "Luke Singleton, you rock my world. You know that, right?"

Despite how confident he was when he was singing my praises, he blushes, and I realize I should be complimenting him a whole lot more than I do. He shouldn't have any doubts when it comes to how much I'm attracted to him.

I graze my thumb over his chin. "Luke, being with you…" I stop, groping for the right words, and he tentatively raises his eyes to mine. "What we have…? It's never been as good for me as it is with you. Does that answer your question?" And I know I've said the right thing when his eyes immediately light up. He reaches for my hand and kisses it, and I feel it all the way down to my toes.

"Good," he whispers shyly. "'Cause I feel exactly the same way about you."

Now I'm the one blushing as I tug on his hand, grabbing the baby monitor off the bureau before pulling him out the door with me. We creep quietly downstairs and tiptoe into the kitchen. I stand behind him as he begins pulling things out of the fridge—hot dogs, veggie burgers, cheese, ketchup, mustard, two bottles of beer, the works.

I tap him on the back. "Are you sure you don't need me to carry anything?"

Turning around with his arms laden, he laughs at me with his eyes. "Just the buns," he teases, before lifting his leg and nudging my butt with his toe.

"Stop it!" I swat his foot away as I enter the four nines on the security panel.

"Well, you do have a pretty great one." He flirts with me.

"One you couldn't stop staring at the day we met, if I recall." I hold the door open for him and usher him through, but he just stands there and gives me a searching look.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he replies, before quickly looking away and heading into the backyard.

I stare at the dips and slopes of his naked back as he puts down what he's carrying before bending over to fire up the grill. But I decide not to press him on it. He's always so forthright with me, so if there's something on his mind, he'll tell me. I don't need to badger him about it. If being in a relationship with Luke Singleton has taught me anything, it's that he usually does things in his own sweet time, like making me wait so long for our first kiss…and our second.

I start arranging things on the picnic table, popping the lids off the beer bottles and handing him one. "It's been a long time since I've done this."

He glances at me over his shoulder, raising the bottle to his lips. "You're telling me Landry never barbecued for you the whole time you were in Texas?"

I take a seat in the chair his dad made out of baseball bats. "Okay, let me rephrase. It's been a while since I've felt this relaxed." I take a sip of my beer and look up at the moon. "It's nice. I could get used to it."

"Well, you can, you know… He's not coming back until next month," Luke mutters, stoking the coals.

I hug my arms to my chest, not wanting to get into David right now. Noticing my unease, Luke drops the subject.

"So tell me…how'd you spend the Fourth when you were a kid?" he asks, adding a veggie burger to the grill for me, automatically knowing what I want without having to ask.

Ever since I moved in, I've been harping on him, that since he's a professional athlete, he needs to make healthier choices when it comes to his diet, and for the most part, he's been following my good example, except on nights like tonight when he's the one doing the cooking. I smile to myself. Okay, I'm not that tough. I know it's a holiday, and I'm willing to let him indulge in his junk food craving just a little. The package of hot dogs wouldn't even have been in the fridge if I didn't bring them home from the store with me.

I take another swig of my beer before I reply, "We always went to my grandparents' house. My grandma made the best barbecue chicken this side of the Mississippi."

"Were you close to your grandparents?"

"Very… I guess that's why I became a caregiver. I always got along with the elderly, a lot more than people my own age."

He slices one hot dog down the middle, then another. "You don't have to tell me you're an old soul. I knew it from day one."

I furrow my brow. "You did?"

He clears his throat. "So why didn't you make this world-famous chicken for me?"

I laugh. "I might have to since we're eating what I planned to serve tomorrow." I put my beer down. "By the way, I think you're the first baseball player I've ever seen eat a hot dog outside of a ballpark."

He chuckles. "Well, only on special occasions. I sure ate enough of them at Beaver Field when I was growing up."

I study the chair I'm sitting in. "What was your dad like?"

He flips my burger, shaking his head. "He was a character, that's for sure. He was gruff, but everybody liked him because he didn't force people to like him. Do you know what I mean? He was who he was, take it or leave it."

"But he seems like he must've had a great sense of humor." I grip the knob at the end of the armrest. "If he built something like this."

Luke nods, opening a package of rolls. "He was a practical joker, especially around the house. He'd get me involved in his pranks, and it used to drive Mom nuts. We'd leave plastic spiders in the bathtub and wait for her to scream. He'd attach a string to a dollar bill then have me drag it across the floor as soon as she bent down to pick it up. Mom had the patience of a saint, putting up with the two of us."

A bittersweet grin crosses my face as I gaze up at the stars. "I'm afraid my dad's way more serious than that."

Luke spears a hot dog onto a bun. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." I reach for my beer. "He's basically had nothing to do with me since I was eighteen." I sigh. "He wanted me to go to college, get a good job, but instead, I chose to run off with David."

Luke clenches his jaw as he presses the spatula down on my burger. "Is that why you couldn't leave him? 'Cause you couldn't go home?"

I nod. "Partly. That, and my own stupid insistence that David would change. I guess I was running away from being controlled by my father, only to end up being controlled by a man who was far worse than him."

Luke exhales, sliding my burger onto a plate. When he turns around, he walks straight toward me before kneeling at my feet. "I don't want you ever to think that I'm like them. You're free to do whatever you want. I'd never presume to tell you what you can and cannot do."

I wink at him, taking the plate from him. "Good, because I'd like to eat my burger now."

He leans forward and kisses the tip of my nose. "Get ready because it's the first of many I plan on making you this summer." He stands up as I take a bite, aware of how I tend to back away from too much sentimentality. "How is it?"

"I think summer just became my new favorite season," I say through a delicious mouthful.

He gives me a loving glance, one I don't turn away from, one I allow myself the pleasure of basking in.

"I know it's my favorite season. It's the one that brought me to you."

I pause with the burger halfway to my lips. "But we met in April. That's in the spring."

He stops squeezing mustard onto his hot dog. "Yeah, well… I've always considered the start of the baseball season to be the start of summer anyway. And summer just has an all-around happier vibe to it, don't you think? Freedom from school…"

"It's been a long time since I've had to worry about school."

"Well, someday when you're an old married lady with kids of your own—"

I hurry to interrupt him. "How about we just stick with liking summer for summer's sake?"

"Fine, fine, fine," he says, sitting in the chair next to me. "Let's just say it can be a season blissfully free of responsibility."

The baby monitor cackles to life. "Lukey…?"

He sighs, "Except for Mom."

I chuckle, getting to my feet. "I'm on it."

"Are you sure?" he asks. "You didn't even get to finish your burger."

"Positive. Your mom's the one responsibility I'd never give up, not even for the lazy days of summer."

"I love you," he whispers, his eyes shining up at me.