Three
Halo followed Alyn for thirty minutes. He kept a discreet distance between the vehicles. He thought he’d lost her at an intersection on the outskirts of town when he was forced to stop for a red light and she scooted through on yellow. He took two wrong turns as he entered an older neighborhood, but eventually caught sight of her Dodge Dart parked at the curb before a single-level cottage. The corner yard was fenced. There was a small outbuilding, yet no garage. No sign of the chicken, either. She must have gone inside.
He came to a stop, exited the Hummer, and locked it. He walked past the Dart, glancing inside. The baby carrier attached to the backseat gave him pause. As did the box of Pampers.
Once on the sidewalk, he looked around. The houses along the boulevard were all boxy, painted white with short porches. Mature bare-limbed trees stood out against an overcast sky. Snow was forecast. He was tired of winter.
He unlatched the gate, pushed through. It creaked as it closed behind him. A cement walkway led him to the porch. Blades of brown grass pushed between the cracks. Three wooden steps landed him at a door painted deep blue, the same hue as the wooden shutters on either side of the front windows. One narrow window was raised, drawing fresh air into the cottage.
He pushed the doorbell with his thumb and, seconds later, saw an eye through the peephole. He heard the slide of a dead bolt. A middle-aged woman peeked out. An inside safety chain crossed her nose as she peered up at him.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
He shoved his hands in his jean pockets and gave her his most charming smile. “I’m looking for—”
“Me!” A skinny young boy with shaggy brown hair came running. “It’s Halo Todd. He picked my letter. I won. He’s here for me.”
Here for the boy? Halo blinked, taken aback. He caught a glimpse of a navy T-shirt ripped at the collar, sweat pants, and a short plaster arm cast, reaching from the kid’s knuckles to just below his elbow.
Bouncing on his bare toes, the boy unhooked the chain. The door swung wide, and the kid charged Halo, giving him an enthusiastic hug. Then looking up, he grinned, revealing a missing front tooth, before turning to the woman behind him. “The contest. I’m going to spring training!”
Halo stiffened. Letter, spring training? What the hell?
The woman smiled at Halo, a warm, grateful smile. “I’m Martha Jayne, Danny’s mother,” she said. “Danny loves baseball. He gets on the computer every day after school and checks the Rogues’ website. That’s where he learned about the contest.”
Halo’s jaw worked. Realization slapped him upside the head, unsettling him. He was aware of the event, but had ignored it. Community liaison Jillian Mac-Cates had spoken to the players at the final team meeting of the previous season. She’d set up a contest where fans could write to their favorite players. Then, on a designated date, the starting lineup would stop by James River Stadium, scan the letters, and each select a winner. They would personally notify and congratulate the winners.
Those who won would be flown to Barefoot William for preseason. Ten days of ballgames, beach, and boardwalk. The players had benefitted from the positive press coverage and photo ops. Everyone but Halo. Months had passed. Time had gotten away from him. As it so often did.
Jill’s most recent text was a stern reminder to get his butt in gear. He was the last player to pick a winner. He could almost hear Jillian drumming her fingers. Tapping her foot. He could picture her scowl. She was growing impatient. Plane tickets needed to be booked and accommodations reserved for the winners. Anyone under eighteen would travel with a chaperone.
Last minute, and groaning inwardly, Halo had driven to the complex. Better late than never. He figured the letters could be read in under an hour. Maybe two at most. He had been wrong.
The media room was stacked with huge boxes and bulging mailbags. Garbage receptacles overflowed with opened and tossed letters. He’d barely been able to squeeze in. Walking anywhere but the perimeter had been impossible. The starting lineup had received a ton of mail. He saw his name posted on the back wall. He found his entries piled in a corner, reaching all the way to the ceiling, and spilling outside the emergency exit.
He’d sucked in air. Felt as overwhelmed as Santa Claus at Christmas. Hemmed in, and claustrophobic, he’d dropped onto a metal folding chair. Untying a mailbag, he’d withdrawn a handful of letters. Opening each one, he’d skimmed the contents. Men and women, boys and girls of all ages had their hearts set on attending preseason. Each entry was well-written, the words hopeful, but none hit him on a gut level. He had no idea what he was looking for from his fans, but he wanted something beyond praise of his career and the mention of how cool he was.
Three hours passed, and his eyes had crossed. He’d had enough. No winner. Straightening, he’d stretched, then left the room with every intention of returning the next day. Needless to say, his well-intentioned plans never materialized. He got distracted easily.
A guys’ night out with five of his teammates landed him and his buddies at an after-hours men’s club. On the darker side of midnight, Halo had hooked up with one of the hostesses. The sex had been wild. Had lasted three days. She’d drained him.
Shame on him, but he’d never gotten back to the mailroom. Despite that fact, a boy stood before him now, all wide-eyed with hero worship, believing that he’d won. In a roundabout way, Danny had saved his ass. The spring training event was the last thing on his mind when he’d arrived at the cottage. Yet he’d found his winner. The boy would get Jillian off his back. He went with it. A meant to be, if he believed in destiny.
He figured the chicken was somewhere in the house. The boy would get Halo’s foot in the door. He extended his hand. “Congratulations, Danny.”
The boy grasped Halo’s hand with both his own. His cast rubbed roughly against Halo’s wrist. “Thanks for picking me.”
“Thanks for writing a great letter.”
Danny puffed out his chest. “What part did you like best?”
“Uh—” Pause. “It was all good.” That should satisfy the boy. He eyed the kid’s cast and changed the subject. “How’d you break your arm?”
Danny’s smile slipped. His shoulders slumped. He sighed heavily. “I tried to save Quigley from getting hit by a car,” he said. “It was all my fault. I left the side gate open. Quigs escaped.”
“Quigley?” Halo asked.
“My daughter’s dog,” Martha explained. “Danny was pet sitting. The pug ran into the street. Into traffic. Danny took off after him. A car rounded the corner before he could reach Quiggie.”
“I wasn’t fast enough,” the boy confessed.
Martha pressed a comforting hand to Danny’s shoulder. “The driver slammed on the brakes. Too late. There were injuries. Fortunately, Danny and Quigley are both recovering.”
The boy and his mother looked expectantly at Halo, waiting for him to say something. Anything. “It took courage to chase after the dog,” he managed.
“You’d have done the same,” Danny said. “I know you would have.”
How could the kid know that? Halo wondered.
“My son admires you,” Martha told him. “You’re his role model.”
Role model. Halo didn’t stand well on a pedestal. He was far from perfect. But people saw what they would. He’d gotten by on his good looks and athletic ability for much of his life. He had flaws just like the next guy. And a few deep scars. He did have something in common with the kid, which he shared. “I broke my wrist and two fingers when I was your age. Monkey bars were not my friend.”
“I’m eight.” Danny then held up his cast. “Seg-seg—”
“Segmental fracture,” came from his mother.
“Broken wrist and forearm. My cast comes off in five weeks. I’m healing a lot faster than Quigs.” His voice broke. “He may never be the same.”
Never be the same didn’t sound good. Halo was about to question Danny further when a commotion in the living room drew his attention. He raised an eyebrow as a black pug in a rear support dog wheelchair made his way around the corner of the couch. He carried a spiky-toed foot in his mouth. A foot stolen from the chicken costume. He struggled slightly around the end of a coffee table, moving as fast as his front legs would carry him. He wore a diaper. His back legs were supported in stirrups.
Feminine laughter flowed with the words, “I’m going to get you, little sneak.” The pug was being chased by a woman on all fours. Long brown hair hid her face. Her shoulders scrunched beneath a white T-shirt. Her jeans were white seamed and ladder-ripped on one thigh. Her feet bare.
She crawled slowly, yet steadily, calling to the dog. Careening in his escape, the pug bumped into the base of a grandfather clock and tipped himself over. The chicken foot went flying. He lay on his side, panting, his front legs pawing the air.
Halo had a soft spot for animals. He wasn’t certain what to do. His initial reaction was to go to the dog. To see if he was hurt. Instead, he took his cue from Danny and his mother. They stood still. Didn’t interfere. They let the woman handle the situation.
Halo watched as she approached the pug. Reaching him, she shifted position, leaning back on her heels. “Thought you could outrun me, did you, Quigs?” she teased him. She next patted her thighs, directing him, “Up, Quigley. Rock the cart.”
The dog’s ears flickered. He did as she asked. He awkwardly rolled his shoulders, gathering momentum. His first two attempts failed. He barked, sounding annoyed. Then whined, pitifully.
The brunette bent forward, flattening her palms on the hardwood floor near his head. “You can do this, Quiggie,” she assured him. “You did it for your therapist yesterday, you can do it for me today. Up, boy.”
Tough love? Halo’s chest tightened. This was a scene he would never forget. The pug calmed, nuzzled her palm. “I’m here with you. Always,” she encouraged.
Giving a deep, determined growl, Quigley threw his body into rising. He struggled, fought and, by determination alone, somehow managed to get his front paws under him, to roll and push up. To turn one short tire just enough that the wheelchair wobbled, yet righted itself. He was on solid ground once again.
The woman pulled the dog close; tucked him against her side. “You are brave and amazing,” she praised, her voice watery. “So strong. I believe in you.” The pug licked her face.
In the silence that followed, Halo heard Danny swallow hard, along with Martha’s sniff as she wiped away a tear. He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He wasn’t an overly sensitive guy, yet the moment got to him. He’d never been around a disabled dog. The woman was patient, kind, and gave Quigley the encouragement to stand on his own. Definitely a survivor skill.
The brunette brushed back her hair and turned toward the door. That’s when she realized she wasn’t alone. Her gaze glanced off her brother and mother, and met Halo’s own. She stared, and he stared back, recognizing her light green eyes.
She was his chicken.
In that moment, she knew that he knew who she was. She appeared confused, and not the least bit glad to see him. He was the last person she’d expected to darken her doorway.
She gave Quigley a final pat, and slowly rose. Halo took her in, and liked what he saw. Fresh-faced, delicate features, small-boned, almost fragile. A scripted Hug a Pug T-shirt was tucked into her jeans.
Damn, she was pretty. Far prettier than he had imagined.
His male animal instinctively evaluated every woman he met as a potential sexual partner. It was part of his DNA. He was a breathing boner. In his mind, a lady’s smile flashed her availability and willingness. Her readiness for sex.
Alyn wasn’t smiling. A vulnerability surrounded her. She didn’t look all that trusting. Flight flickered in her eyes.
His heart slowed, and all sexual thoughts left him. He was here to make amends, not to make her anxious. What to say? What to do? He’d pretended his purpose at the cottage was to inform Danny he’d won the contest. No one knew he’d actually come looking for her.
“Harold?” she questioned.
Danny shook his head, corrected her. “Not Harold, but Halo. Halo Todd. Richmond Rogues’ right fielder. Alyn’s my sister. She’s not into baseball.”
Brother and sister? There was a significant age gap between the two, Halo noted. He guessed Alyn was close to his age, and Danny was eight. The boy had come along late in Martha’s life. Perhaps a second-honeymoon baby. “Alyn.” He gave a short nod, as if meeting her for the first time.
“Halo,” she contemplated. “My mistake. I took you for someone else. You must have a twin.”
“Everyone’s said to have one.”
“Yours is identical,” she said pointedly. “Why are you here?”
Danny jumped in then, pumping his arm. “Because I won the spring training contest. Halo picked my letter. He notified me in person. I’m going to Barefoot William!”
“Lucky you,” she congratulated her brother before giving Halo the eye, looking suspicious. “What were the odds? One in a thousand?”
“One in ten thousand,” Halo said. The pile of mail had been daunting.
“Alyn checked my spelling and gave me a stamp,” Danny said. “She dropped off the letter at the post office so we didn’t have to wait for the mail carrier. She’s the best.”
“Definitely the best,” Halo agreed.
Martha touched Halo’s arm, and offered, “Can you stay awhile? I have a fresh pot of coffee and a cinnamon coffee cake right out of the oven, cooling on the kitchen table. We could discuss the details of Danny’s trip.”
The specifics . . . he hadn’t a clue. He’d thought he was doing well finding a winner. He pulled his iPhone from the side pocket of his jeans, texted Jillian, requesting travel and hotel information. He figured she would get back to him by the time he’d finished his first cup of coffee and second piece of coffee cake.
“I have a few minutes,” he said.
“I’ll set out cups and plates.” Martha went to do so.
The cottage didn’t have an entryway. One step, and Halo stood in the living room. He looked around. He’d never seen so much furniture in such a small space. More was not always better. Someone in the family was either a pack rat or a collector. No wonder the dog had tipped his cart. There was little room between the chairs, couches, coffee and side tables. There were at least two, if not three, of each type of furniture. The sofas were covered with plastic.
How much light did a room need? he wondered, counting ten sconces, eight table and six standing lamps. All with fancy, heirloom shades. Decorated in pink silk and matching roses, one shade reminded him of a birthday cake. He blinked against the brightness.
A dozen clocks counted the hour on a mantel above the brown brick fireplace. History surrounded him, Halo realized, as he moved toward the display. Identification tags described each vintage item, from the cherry wood tripod table and Chesterfield armchair, to the tufted Victorian blue velvet settee.
Once reaching the shelf, he examined the carriage clock and one that resembled a church steeple, with its triangle front and column-like sides. His great aunt had such a clock.
Danny joined him at the fireplace. “The banjo clock is my favorite,” he said. “Alyn likes the Orm—” He pulled a face.
“Ormolu.” Alyn pronounced the word for him.
“It’s French,” the boy said of the ornate bronze cube clock.
Halo looked down at the boy. “You’re a smart kid.”
Danny’s chest puffed, but he remained modest. “I know a little; Alyn knows a lot. She wants to open an antique shop. Her business partner ripped her off. Left her dry and high—”
“High and dry,” mused Halo.
“She’s waiting for the money fairy.”
“Danny,” Alyn softly cautioned. “We don’t share personal information, remember?” The boy scrunched his nose. “I’m sure Har- Halo isn’t interested in my plans.”
Oh, but he was. Money fairy, huh? “When were you planning to open your shop?”
“Not today, but someday.”
Danny huffed, revealing more than he should once again. “She could’ve moved in this afternoon had she won Go Big or Go Home. She found space in a brick building downtown. She took Mommy and me to see it. There was a coffee shop on the corner. We had hot chocolate and cookies.”
“What else?” asked Halo.
“The hot chocolate came in big mugs with marshmallows. Mom had an oatmeal raisin cookie. Alyn and I had peanut butter chocolate chip.”
Halo grinned. The kid talked food when he wanted to hear about the game show. “Go Big or Go Home?” he nudged.
The boy shrugged. “Not much to tell. Her boyfriend dumped her. She didn’t have a partner for Couples Day. She scrambled to find someone.”
“Danny . . .” Alyn’s voice was strained.
Her warning fell on deaf kid ears. He finished with, “She found a guy last minute, but it didn’t go well. They lost. Had she played with you, Halo, she would’ve won.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” said Alyn.
Danny disagreed. “Look at the man, sis. He’s big and tall and would’ve played all-out. He’d have rung the bell on the Strength-O-Meter.”
Alyn bit down on her bottom lip. “You think?”
“I know,” Danny convinced her. “He’s a ballplayer, all aim and power. Halo would’ve killed it.”
She gazed fondly on her brother. Relented. “I’m certain he would have.” She then crossed to the fireplace. The going was tight. Halo admired the twist of her body, the sway of her hips, as she maneuvered between two chairs. She bumped into the arm of a replica Queen Anne sofa, and rubbed her thigh. Pale skin peeked between the blue threads of torn denim. Nice.
Standing beside Danny, she ruffled his hair. He accepted her affection with rolled eyes and a groan. “Older sisters.”
Despite his pained expression, Halo saw the slight shift of his body as he leaned into Alyn. It was obvious they were close, despite their age difference.
“Table’s all set,” Martha called from the kitchen.
Danny hopped away from Alyn. He motioned Halo to follow him. “Hey, do you like mirrors?”
Halo checked his reflection whenever he passed one. A natural reflex. “Sure, why not.”
“They’re on the walls in the hallway.” Danny took off with Quigley on his heels. The dog stretched out his chest and pulled the cart like a pro. The small wheels clicked on the hardwood floor.
Halo was left alone with Alyn, who was sizing him up. She didn’t come on to him. Didn’t seem the least interested or impressed. She appeared troubled. Ill-at-ease.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo,” was his icebreaker.
She didn’t find him funny. She lowered her voice, said, “I can’t believe you’re here. Or that you’re a ballplayer. How did this come about? The truth, Harold. Did you follow me home? Did Danny really win the contest?”
He was honest. “Total coincidence. I was looking for you, and found Danny. Your brother met me at the door and jumped to the conclusion he’d won the contest.”
She clasped her hands together, chest high, as if in prayer. “You didn’t tell him otherwise?”
“Who am I to disappoint a kid?”
“Did you even read his letter?”
“Does it matter?” He bent rules when it suited him.
She lowered her arms. Frowned. “More than you know. You are his hero. Danny worked on his letter for weeks. He wanted each word just right.”
Weeks, huh. The kid had taken his time; put real thought into it. “You could tell me what it said.”
“Or you could locate the letter and read it yourself.”
He released a sharp breath. “There’s not enough hours in the day to dig through thousands of entries to find his.”
“Make time.” She busted his balls.
“No can do. I need to be in Barefoot William by the end of the week. I was late picking a winner. Danny saved my ass. He’s my guy.”
“You’d never take away his win, would you?” She looked as vulnerable as her words sounded.
He shook his head, surprised she thought so little of him.
“You better never let him down,” she warned, putting him on notice. “Or you’ll tangle with me.”
Hell, he’d never hurt the kid, but he might like tangling with her. “Got it.”
She hesitated before saying, “This is our secret then? Not a word to anyone.”
No one had ever asked him to keep a secret. In this case, keeping quiet was to his benefit. “Deal.”
They stared at each other for what could’ve been seconds or a minute. Maybe even two. Until she returned to her earlier question. “Why did you come after me?”
Admitting his mistake did not come easy. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Stood taller. Said, “I owe you. I fucked up the Strength-O-Meter. I hit off-center. We lost. I’d like to make it up to you. Do something nice. Call it compensation.”
Alyn shrugged a slender shoulder. “It wasn’t my day to win. It was Danny’s. He’s very deserving. He plays baseball in his sleep. He’s going to spring training in Barefoot William. Make that my reward.”
She wanted nothing for herself, only for her brother. “He’s under eighteen and will need a chaperone.”
“My mother—”
“I was thinking of you.”
“My mom needs a vacation more than I do.”
Selfless was nice, but didn’t work for him. Not in this case, anyway. He tried a different tactic. “Couples travel together.”
“We’re not a couple,” she told him. “You were my pretend boyfriend—”
“Fiancé,” he corrected.
“For an hour. That’s hardly a relationship.”
“You saw me raw.”
Yes, she had, Alyn thought. He’d looked good without his clothes. Unforgettable, in fact. She had met him as Harold, man on the street. She now knew him as Halo Todd, elite athlete. Huge difference.
Her cheeks warmed when she said, “I’m not the first woman to see you naked, and I won’t be the last. Once was enough for me.”
“Once is never enough, babe.” There was challenge in his tone. Arrogance and assuredness.
Her throat went dry. She could barely swallow. “We’re done here.”
“I don’t consider us finished.”
What more did the man want from her? She was afraid to consider the possibilities.
Bare feet on hardwood indicated Danny had returned. She was relieved by her brother’s arrival. Danny slapped his arms against his sides, all restless kid energy and big appetite. “What’s taking you guys so long?”
Halo improvised. He was good at it. “I was getting a lesson on the cuckoo clock,” he said easily. “Your sister went on and on.”
“She does that with me, too,” said Danny. “She’ll keep talking after I’ve stopped listening.”
Alyn raised an eyebrow. “You tune me out?”
He squirmed. “Once, only once.”
“One time isn’t so bad.” Halo took Danny’s side.
Her brother grinned. Relieved.
Male bonding. Alyn didn’t stand a chance.
Danny motioned to Halo. “Mom squeezed fresh orange juice for us guys. I think she snuck in a tangelo.”
They headed for the kitchen then. Halo followed her. Way too close. He breathed down her neck. His arm brushed her own, and his thigh bumped her bottom. Twice.
The hallway of mirrors. She caught his profile in gilt-framed glass. He side-eyed her, too. With a look she didn’t understand. Creased forehead. Slightly flared nostrils. Set jaw. Muscle tic. What was he thinking?
His slow smile spoke for him. His dimples, deep. There was a heated intensity and startling sexuality in his grin. He was pure testosterone. A man born for seduction, Alyn thought. He’d be good at it. That unsettled her most.
Her steps faltered, and Halo walked into her. The solid imprint of his chest and groin pressed her back. His knee slipped between her thighs.
She reached behind her, slapped at his hip. “Stop that,” she rasped.
“Stop what?”
“Your knee’s between my legs.”
“Quit clenching me with your thighs.”
“I’m not—” But she was. Her muscles squeezed him. Her cheeks heated. Her body had betrayed her. She died a slow death in the hallway.
He chuckled, deep and knowing. Irritating her even more. She released him. Stepped away. Her shoulders squared.
“You okay?” Danny stood at the end of the hall, his expression concerned. “I saw you trip.”
“I’m fine,” Alyn assured him.
“Did you see the Eagle Bull’s-eye?” Danny asked Halo, referring to the convex Federal-style wall mirror. “Way cool.”
Alyn turned slightly, pointed out, “Upper left.”
Halo took a closer look. “I like.”
So did Alyn. She’d found it at a garage sale. The couple was going through a divorce, and, while the husband was at work, the wife sold off his office fixtures for next to nothing. The man had been a collector.
Alyn had lucked out and also purchased a Remington Five typewriter, pirate’s spyglass, and Bakelite telephone. She’d hooked up the black dial phone in her bedroom. She allowed Danny to play with the spyglass, as long as he was careful.
The scent of Columbia dark roast and warm coffee cake drew them into the kitchen. A small china cabinet held three complete sets of Wedgwood. Blue with white décor. A fourth set was minus the salad plate, which Danny had accidentally dropped. The cottage didn’t have a formal dining room. The family ate in the kitchen.
Although short on space, her mother had believed in spoiling her husband after a hard day’s work. She’d fix a nice meal and serve it on their best dishes. That had changed when Paul passed away. Paper plates replaced the Wedgwood. Plastic silverware was used instead of the English flatware.
Today a white Amazon lily decorated a vintage glass milk bottle placed in the middle of the floral-patterned table cover. Alyn’s heart squeezed. Her mother had gone to the greenhouse, located behind the cottage. The glass structure had been her father’s domain.
A landscaper by trade, Paul Jayne had specialized in exotic plants. Even in winter, he’d managed to coax orchids, birds of paradise, and angel-wing begonias to bloom. Bamboo was plentiful. He’d gifted his wife with fresh flowers. Daily. Alyn had thought it romantic. The cottage always smelled like a florist shop.
An unexpected heart attack had taken his life six months earlier. Holding on to his memory, Martha had kept the electricity on in the hothouse. She couldn’t bear to turn it off. It was filled with equipment: screening installations, heating, cooling, and lighting, and an automatic watering system controlled by a computer to maximize potential growth.
Martha’s trips to gather flowers were few and far between. The plants that survived grew wild. The greenhouse was a jungle. Another few months, and they’d need a machete to cut a path. Alyn made a mental note to do some pruning. Perhaps she’d be able to coax her mother to help her. Memories were therapeutic.
“Sit here.” Danny drew Halo to the chair beside him.
Alyn wasn’t certain the narrow ladder-back chair would hold the man’s weight. It was meant for a smaller person. The chair creaked and the spindle legs bowed when he dropped down. She crossed her fingers they wouldn’t break.
Quigley waited for her, his “snack face” expectant. She crossed to the counter and removed the lid from his treat jar, shaped like a pug. Three small Milk Bones in hand, she returned to the table. The dog barked excitedly. He spun his cart in a circle.
Alyn knelt, set the biscuits on the floor. She unhooked the straps on the wheelchair and lifted him out. He stretched on his belly, and she arranged his back legs in a position that was familiar to him, and would’ve made him comfortable had there been feeling in his lower spine. He nuzzled her hand. She rose, and he enjoyed his treats.
Halo looked down at the dog, asked her, “Can he crawl or scoot on his butt? Wag his tail?” Logical questions.
“No wagging.” She missed the swish of his curly tail. “His chest and front legs are strong. He’s quite fast at both. I try and change his position throughout the day. For circulation.”
“Is the paralysis permanent?”
“Could be temporary, could be long-term,” she told him. “Two lower vertebrae were crushed in the accident. He’s had surgery. The nerve endings haven’t fully healed.”
“Pffft, pffft.” Danny made a sparking sound. “The endings sometimes flicker like hot wires.”
“He gets tingly,” Alyn added. “His body twitches as if there’s feeling. He’s yet to put weight on his back legs. Still,” she sighed, “we’re hopeful.”
“You should call him Sparky.”
“Or not.” Alyn stared at Halo. Was the man serious? Joking? She wasn’t certain. He raised an eyebrow as if the name was a perfect fit. To him, anyway.
Martha got his humor, even if it fell flat with Alyn. Her mom’s eyes twinkled, but she swallowed her smile. She added a spoonful of sugar to her coffee instead.
Danny liked Halo’s suggestion. A lot. “How about Quiggie Sparks? What do you think, sis?”
Alyn was hesitant. She didn’t want to dash their bonding moment, but neither did she want to consent to a name change. “Let me give it some thought. He responds to Quigley—”
“Quiggie Sparks,” Danny called to the dog.
The pug barked back.
Danny pumped his arm. “He likes it.”
So it seemed. Traitor. “Quigley for now,” she gently said. Danny’s disappointment was expressed in an apologetic whisper to Halo. A whisper Alyn couldn’t help but hear. He didn’t have a low indoor voice. “Do you mind that we stick with Quigs? He is Alyn’s dog.”
The man lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Alyn can keep Quigley, but he’ll always be Quiggie Sparks to us guys.”
“Us guys.” Danny beamed.
The ballplayer had the power to shift alliances. She and Danny had always been tight, despite their age difference. Yet Danny now looked and listened to Halo as if the man could do no wrong. No one was perfect, Alyn knew from experience. She’d been dumped by a lover who’d promised her the world. Further deceived by a close friend. She was not a good judge of character. She refused to let Halo charm her, as he had her brother and mother. They’d warmed to him immediately.
She had liked him better as Harold.
Alyn kept her eye on him as she took a seat between Danny and her mom. Halo stared openly back at her while Martha circled the table, pouring orange juice and coffee, then cutting the cinnamon coffee cake. She gave Halo a large piece. He turned his full attention to the morning treat. The Rogue took big bites. Ate hungrily. He must have missed breakfast. He held his plate out for seconds before Alyn was halfway through her own slice.
Danny imitated Halo, stuffing his mouth. Crumbs flecked his lips, and he choked. Halo thumped him on the back, then passed him a glass of orange juice. “Wash it down,” he said.
Her brother drank deeply. He looked sheepish with his second bite. Much smaller this time.
“Better?” Halo asked him.
Danny nodded. “I could go for a second piece.” He wanted to keep up with Halo.
His mother raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t finished your first.” Still, she cut him a small square. Danny was all smiles.
Alyn dabbed her forefinger along the edge of the plate, collecting the last of the cinnamon sugar. She licked her fingertip, happened to glance up, and found Halo’s gaze on her. His green eyes were as dark as the leaf on an angel face rose. Yet his expression was anything but angelic.
Wicked came to mind. As did indecent. The slight curve of his lip was a turn-on. His dimples flashed. His look alone promised racing hearts, sweat-slick bodies, and tangled sheets. Orgasms. He scared her breathless.
Self-conscious of the tightening of her nipples and the sweet heat between her thighs, she looked away. Concentrated on Danny instead. “Wipe your mouth.” There were more crumbs on his face than coffee cake in his mouth.
He rolled his eyes, swiped a napkin. He missed a few crumbs. Alyn brushed them off his cheek with her thumb. Danny pulled a face.
Martha took a sip of her coffee, and requested, “Tell us about spring training, Halo.”
Halo leaned back on his chair, tilting on two legs. He crossed his arms over his chest. Said, “The Rogues have a new facility in Barefoot William. Nice clubhouse—”
Danny bounced on his seat, all energy and excitement. “Will I get to see your locker?”
Halo nodded. “That can be arranged. We’ll schedule a tour before practice starts. I’ll take you out on the playing field—”
“Can I run the bases?” The boy’s eyes were round, hopeful. “Slide into home?”
“Your cast,” reminded his mother. “No sliding.”
“What about the batting cages?” Danny wanted to know.
Halo’s brow creased. “A one-handed hitter?”
“I’d manage,” Danny reassured him. “I’d be real careful. Swear.”
Halo gave it some thought. “The speed on the ball machine could be regulated. Maybe use wiffle balls instead of regulation baseballs,” he added, tongue in cheek.
“Wiffle?” Danny gaped. His disappointment was evident. “I want fastballs. Power alley. I can burn ’em.”
Halo ruffled the boy’s hair. “We’ll see when the time comes. I don’t want you to reinjure your arm.”
Danny sat up straighter, and assured him, “I’m getting stronger every day. My cast won’t interfere with our fun.”
“The beachside town has a great boardwalk, carnival rides, and an amusement arcade. There’s something to do twenty-four-seven.”
Danny’s eyes widened. “I never have to sleep.”
Halo put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Even ballplayers catch a few hours each night.”
Very few hours, Alyn imagined. Bars, women, sex. Halo wouldn’t lack for entertainment.
“We’ll be there for ten whole days.” Clearly, it sounded like forever to Danny. He turned to Halo. “Can Mommy and Alyn come, too?”
“Only one of us,” Alyn was quick to say. “Mom should chaperone.”
“Me?” Surprise showed on Martha’s face. “I was thinking you, Alyn.”
“You go, Mom,” she insisted. “When was the last time you had a vacation?”
Her mother looked thoughtful. “It’s been a few years.”
“A lot of years,” Alyn reminded her. “Not since Danny was born.”
Martha poured herself another cup of coffee. “I’m content at home. Truly, I am.”
“You’d make me happy if you went with Danny.” Alyn said, and meant it.
Halo’s iPhone rang. Dun dun da-da da-da, the great white shark tone was realistic. Scary.
“Jaws?” asked Danny.
“No, Jillian Mac-Cates,” Halo said. “She’s the team’s community liaison. Nice enough, when she’s not trying to take a bite out of me.”
“Does she bite hard?” From Danny.
“Hardest when I’m running late or not paying attention to her.”
“That happens how often?” Alyn wondered aloud, certain it was a regular occurrence.
“Often enough.” Halo was truthful. He tapped the screen. “She has travel details. Hold on.” He dropped the chair back on four legs, rose, and took the call in the mirrored hallway.
Alyn was sitting closest to the hall, and she could hear parts of his conversation.
“Boy, age eight.” Pause, followed by a clearing of his throat. “Three instead of two.” Indistinguishable mumbling. “Give me a break.” Some male finagling. “An alternative. . .” Next, “I’ll take care of it.” His voice lowered even more. “I need you to do me a favor. . . .”
He returned to the kitchen shortly thereafter. His expression was unreadable.
Danny hopped off his chair, and met Halo by the refrigerator. Curiosity and anticipation had him bouncing on his toes. “My mommy or my sister? Who gets to go?” he rushed to ask. “When do we leave? Are we flying? I’ve never been on an airplane.”
Alyn sat very still. If truth be told, she would’ve loved to make the trip. However, her mother was a priority. She was still grieving her husband’s death. She would for a long time to come. Alyn hoped the sunshine would lift her spirits. No one deserved it more.
She glanced at Halo, who was eyeing her. Or evaluating her, she thought. His brow was creased and his lips were pursed. She had no idea why. He went on to pinch the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, then rub the back of his neck before saying, “All three of you can come to spring training.”
Danny whooped, pumped his good arm.
Grateful, Martha’s eyes watered; her smile was soft.
Alyn contemplated his decision. When they’d spoken privately in the living room, Halo had indicated Danny and a chaperone would travel to Florida. Two people only. Yet now the entire family was headed south. How had he managed that?
He hadn’t taken her dog into account. “I can’t leave Quigley,” she said.
Danny jumped in with, “Cadbury and Merlin would have to come, too.”
Halo looked uneasy. “They are . . . ?”
“My bunny and goldfish,” her brother was quick to say.
One corner of Halo’s mouth tightened. Alyn figured he was getting in deeper than he’d expected with the trip. Family travel became a whole different ballgame with pets included. She cut him some slack. Gave him room to back out. “No worries. I’ll stay behind, feed Cads and Merlin.”
Halo shook his head. “I want you with us,” ended their debate. He then took a moment and considered their options. “Airline won’t accept a bunny or fish. So . . .”
“So . . .” Danny echoed him.
“How do you feel about a road trip?” was his solution.
Alyn did her best not to laugh out loud. Did this hotshot ballplayer have any idea what he was getting himself into? What it would be like traveling with three people he barely knew along with their pets?
A handicapped dog was very hands-on.
An eight-year-old boy couldn’t sit still for more than a few hours at a time.
Her mother mapped out every rest stop.
His patience would be tested.