I bit the raggedy edge of my fingernail as I looked at the letter on my dining room table, unsure of what to do. For the last hour I had stared down at the childish writing, half expecting the demons of my past to jump off the page. But nothing had happened, other than my ass going to sleep in the kitchen chair.

Sighing, I grabbed the letter again and turned it over. There was writing on the back of the letter, something I had not seen the first time I had read the thing, and it listed the kid’s Little League schedule, at a park not too far from my own apartment.

How ironic was that? To be so close, yet so far away.

James.

His name sounded too big for the little kid I pictured in my mind, though by his letter, I imagined he was smarter than the average eight-year-old. It made me want to meet him. And I wondered if he looked like me or his father. A small part of me hoped he didn’t look like Shawn, who’d wanted nothing to do with me or the baby, during or after the pregnancy and never once asked me about his child after the baby was taken away.

It had been a few weeks after giving birth when I bumped into him at the library of all places, gathering my books to work on my GED. I’d been dumbfounded to see him, biting my lip at what he might say. But he hadn’t said anything, pretending that I didn’t even exist as he brushed past me with another girl wearing his Letterman jacket. It was then that I realized I couldn’t trust another male figure ever again and I hadn’t, until the man who had stolen my heart before my arrival here in Jupiter. But even he had let me down…

Shrugging off those feelings—they weren’t going to help me decide what to do next—I smoothed down the creases of the letter which had become wrinkled from my many handlings over the last few days.

James had practice tonight. My James.

I could go and at least find him, see what he looked like. It would satisfy my curiosity somewhat. If I was brave enough. Was I?

I folded up the letter again, stood, and grabbed my purse.

Half an hour later I was walking up to the field, where kids and some parents were already gathered for the practice session. The kids were extremely cute in their little uniforms, carrying their gloves and bats excitedly as their tired parents trudged behind them. Would that have been me if I’d kept James for my own? Would I have become a typical single mom, carting him all over so he could attend all the afterschool activities he wanted? I didn’t know for sure, but what I did know for certain was that I would’ve done anything to make him happy.

Moving closer to the bleachers, I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head and tucked my hands in my shorts, trying desperately to blend in. They all looked so damn happy and I couldn’t help but wonder, as I had many times over my years, what my life would be like if I had kept my little boy. Maybe everything would’ve turned out okay? It would’ve been a struggle, but I could’ve done it, I thought as a cloud of guilt began to form. But I knew I had to stop thinking like that, I couldn’t change the past. But there was still the future to consider.

I craned my neck a little, making sure I wasn’t being so obvious about it, but I couldn’t pick him out. All of them looked alike from this distance with their adorable baseball caps on. Would he have any of my features? How was I going to identify him? How was he going to identify me?

“I hear we have a new coach tonight,” one of the moms standing near the bleachers grumbled, looking at her watch. “And he’s already ten minutes late.”

“Too bad about Coach Carson,” the woman—another mom, I presumed—next to her said, shaking her head. “He was so good with the kids. I hope this guy is up to snuff.”

As I continued to inadvertently overhear their conversation, a stone the size of a boulder felt like it had just dropped into my stomach. What if one of the women talking was James’ mom? Oh god.

My anxiety ratcheted up all the way and I awkwardly moved away from them, wondering what I was doing here. This was crazy. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I shouldn’t have gone there trying to see my son after all these years. He was no longer mine. He no doubt had a good life and I couldn’t show up and screw it up all for him, even if he did send the letter. He was eight… what on earth did an eight-year old know about these situations?

“Huh. I didn’t take you for a stalker.”

I whirled around to see my accuser, expecting irrationally to see James’ dad or somebody official who’d come to tell me that I wasn’t wanted there.

“What the hell?” I said as I recognized the guy from the bar standing in front of me, a grin on his handsome face. He still looked gorgeous, damn him.

Luke was wearing a baseball cap low on his head, but I could still see the twinkle of laughter in his eyes. Whoa. Did he have a kid here as well? Oh my god, was he married?

I looked down to see his left hand unadorned and gave an inward sigh of relief. I didn’t do cheaters. Hell, I didn’t do him at all.

“Never thought I’d see your pretty face again.”

“Last time I saw you, you were covered in mayonnaise.”

He stepped closer, the smell of his spicy cologne assaulting my senses and sending butterflies rumbling down to my lower region. Boy he smelled really good, like a tall drink of naughtiness. “Well, did it turn you on?”

“It turned me on all right,” I laughed, my thoughts about meeting my son no longer preoccupying my mind. “Right on to my vibrator.”

“Ouch,” he said, pretending to wince. “I promise you babe, you would have enjoyed me a hell of a lot more had you not treated me like a burger that needed to be dressed.”

I took a step closer then, until we were nearly nose to nose, running my finger down his chest. I wouldn’t let him get under my skin. “Well, darling, if you hadn’t wanted to take me in the men’s bathroom of all places, like I was some common piece of ass, we might have had some fun. But I’m more than a dirty little fuck on a bathroom counter.”

He tilted his head, his expression full of amusement and desire. It reminded me of the swirling heat of passion that had begun to pulse between my legs. God, I needed to stay away from him, I thought. He’d already shown his true colors and no matter how much he made my heart race, he was bad news.

“I’ll try to remember that. So, why are you here?”

“That’s none of your business,” I said, and then turned the tables on him. “Why are you here?” Just because he didn’t have a ring on his finger right then didn’t mean he wasn’t already married with kids. I wanted him to admit it right there and then that he was a cheating bastard… that would really make me walk away.

He grinned and stepped back, the air around me dropping a few degrees with his absence. I hadn’t realized how heated I had become with him so close.

“Watch.” He turned to go before he looked over his shoulder. “How about you stay after practice? ‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

“Oh really?”

Luke threw me a wink. “I’m going to make it up to you. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

I didn’t say anything as he walked toward the field, clapping his hands as he went. “Come on, guys! I’m Coach Luke and we better get practicing!”

My jaw dropped again as I realised what he just said. Luke was the coach… my little boy’s coach!

I watched as all of the kids ran to him, excited to get started and I couldn’t help but laugh. This was too bizarre. I would never have imagined him of all people coaching Little League, not in a million lifetimes.

“Daaaamn. He’s the coach?” I heard the mom nearest me whisper loudly to her friend beside her. “Check out the buns on him! He can be late whenever he wants if he comes looking like that!”

Tilting my head, I too admired his ass as he ran out onto the field. She was right… it was very nice to look at. However much of a jerk he was, I did have to admit he looked sexy as hell, and I could only imagine all the muscle he had going on if he were to strip himself bare. I bit my lip.

A couple of the kids cheered, reacting to something Luke said and I was shaken out of my daydream. I forced myself to focus on the kids surrounding him and not the hot coach.

I had to remember I was here for a very specific reason, and him turning up couldn’t preoccupy my thoughts. And yet he was… but in a way it was good side effect. I was no longer feeling nervous—well maybe still a tiny bit—about seeing my son. Luke had distracted me enough to calm me down and in a way had prevented me from leaving.

After our heated exchange where he’d demanded that I stay after practice, I had to wonder what his deal was. Did he have a split-personality disorder? How on earth had he gone from the cocky bastard in the bar to someone who seemed to be a fun-loving man who was currently throwing baseballs with the kids on the field?

Okay, he was still an arrogant ass for telling me to stay. But the guy on the field looked like he was enjoying himself… that smile wasn’t fake. He wasn’t pretending to be a good guy with them, either. And therein lay the kicker: there was nothing hotter to me than a man who absolutely loved what he was doing and I was seeing that in my hot stud from the bar.

Biting my lip, I thought again about his parting comment. He wanted me to wait after practice so that he could take me out.

Would he apologize?

The therapist in me told me that he wasn’t much on verbal apologies but would probably do it in his own little way. That was one of the roughest parts of my job, having something akin to sixth sense; being able to analyze people without even meaning to. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Maybe I should wait, I considered. See what he had to say. It would also give me the courage and excuse to stay and potentially meet James. I turned my attention back to the field and the kids. What would he ask me? More importantly, how would I answer?