Chapter 6

Despite his annoyance at the chump who was chatting up Quinn, Rock smiled at Max, who was waving and calling out for them to come sit with him.

“I didn’t know they’d be here,” he said quietly to his mom.

She turned back to him, an innocent smile on her face. “Oh, didn’t I mention it? Logan plays on the team with Colt.”

“No. It must have slipped your mind.”

Yeah right. Nothing slips that woman’s mind. He’d wager a hundred dollars that she knew Quinn and Max would be here, and double down that their presence was the main reason she’d encouraged him to come along.

Mason climbed the two rows in front of them and spread out the blanket their mom had him carry in from the truck. Vivi sat down, conveniently leaving plenty of room for Rock to sit next to Quinn, and Max clamored across the bleachers to sit next to Mason and Vivi.

“I’ll see ya later,” the cowboy was saying as Rock dropped onto the bleachers next to Quinn.

He didn’t know if his angry glare had anything to do with the guy leaving or not, and he didn’t really care. “Who was that guy?” he asked, the question coming out a little harsher than he’d intended.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Well, hello, Rock. Nice to see you too. Yes, the weather is lovely tonight, and oh yeah, it’s none of your business.”

Yeah, definitely came out too harsh. He held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. You’re right. What I meant to say was ‘Hey, Quinn, how you doing? Isn’t it a great night for some softball?’ Is that better?”

“Barely.”

He shifted in his seat, setting his drink on the bleachers in front of him and trying not to stare at her amazingly long legs. “So really, who was that guy?”

She let out a laugh and shook her head. “You are terrible. He’s just a customer from the coffee shop where I work.”

He huffed. “A customer that seems interested in more than just your coffee-making skills. So, did he ask you out?”

“Why, Rockford James, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”

He shrugged. “What if I am? Or what if I just felt like punching that guy in his fat, stupid nose?”

Her eyes widened. “Wow. That is so mature. I can tell that you’ve really grown up.”

He ignored the jab, used to their verbal sparring. “You didn’t answer the question.”

This time, it was her turn to shrug. “No. He didn’t ask me out. But he asked for my number.”

His blood boiled, and he tried to rein in the sparks of jealousy that were firing through his veins. “I hope you told him to shove it.”

“No, I didn’t. Because I’m a civilized person who doesn’t go around telling perfectly nice people to shove it.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“But I also didn’t give him my number.”

A smug smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and the fire in his veins cooled.

He was working on a witty comeback, when another person walked up the bleachers to talk to Quinn.

This time it was a girl, probably in her midtwenties. Her hair was mousy brown and unkempt, her bangs too long and hanging in her eyes. She wore faded jeans and a black tank top with a marijuana leaf embossed on the front. Real classy.

Rock felt Quinn stiffen next to him as the girl warily approached. She looked familiar but he couldn’t quite place her, more like he’d known her as a kid instead of as an adult. He shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth and watched their exchange.

“Hi, Quinn. How you doing? How’s Max?” She was too thin, her bare arms skinny, and she picked at a scab on her wrist, her gaze bouncing from Quinn to Rock to Max and back to Quinn.

“Hi, Megan. We’re doing fine. Is one of your brothers playing in the game tonight?”

Her tone was purposefully light, but Rock knew her well enough to hear the tension in her voice.

The girl squinted toward the field. “Yeah. Merle is playing third base.”

He looked out and spotted the third basemen. Another rush of anger hit him as he saw the last name Hill emblazoned on the back of the guy’s T-shirt, and he scanned the field to see if Monty was also playing. He almost hoped he was. His fantasy of punching the guy in the throat might come true sooner rather than later.

The girl shifted to her other foot. “Well, um, I haven’t seen you in a long time, and I just wanted to come over and say hi.” Her gaze darted to Max again, who was giggling over some joke that Mason was telling him. “He’s getting big. He’s cute too. If you ever need a babysitter, you could call me, or whatever.” She tried for a timid smile, revealing a row of small, crooked teeth, their enamel dull, the product of either poor hygiene or the inability to afford proper dental care.

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. It was nice of you to say hello,” Quinn answered, although she didn’t sound like she really thought it was that nice at all. Her tone stayed cordial though.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” Megan offered her a small, awkward wave, then turned and walked away, leaving the stale scent of smoke behind.

Rock leaned in toward Quinn and lowered his voice. “Was that…?”

She let out a shaky breath, but her body stayed stiff. “Yep.”

“So she’s his…?”

“Yep.”

“And is she part of Max’s…?”

“Nope.”

“That’s what I thought.” He handed her his half-empty tub of popcorn. “Here.”

“What’s this for?”

“I figured since you were finishing all of my sentences, you might want to finish my popcorn as well.”

“Smart.” She offered him an impish grin and popped a piece into her mouth.

He kept his shoulder pressed against hers just in case she needed the support. “You okay?”

She nodded and finally relaxed her shoulders. “Yeah. I knew since we were playing Franklin, that there was a chance some of his family would be here. I don’t have reason to run into them very often, and the majority of them don’t acknowledge us. Megan’s the only one who ever even speaks to us or acts like she wants to be part of his life.”

“Why? It’s not the kid’s fault.”

“Apparently, it’s easier to act like we don’t exist. Especially since that’s what Monty does. Since his father refuses to claim him, none of the rest of the family does either.”

Rock’s hands clenched into fists, and he glanced back at Max to make sure he wasn’t listening. “What the hell is wrong with that guy? How could he not want to be part of his own son’s life? Max is a great kid. Why would he not claim him as his own?”

“Because if he doesn’t claim him, he doesn’t have to pay child support.”

“But you could have a paternity test, take him to court.”

“Why would I? If he doesn’t want to be part of Max’s life, then it’s his loss. And I sure as heck don’t need his money or his interference in how I raise my son.”

He scanned the crowd of people in the opposing bleachers. “Do you think he’s here now?”

She shook her head. “No. Last I heard, he moved to Texas. I think he’s doing the rodeo circuit down there. I haven’t talked to him in years, and even if he were here, he wouldn’t want to talk to me, and I dang sure don’t have anything to say to him.”

Rock’s heart ached for the little boy whose father didn’t want to even acknowledge his existence. He knew what it was like to grow up without a dad, but there was a big difference in having a dad who was taken by an untimely death and a dad who left on purpose.

A loud crack sounded as the first batter whacked the ball out of the field, and the people in the bleachers rose to their feet to cheer.

Quinn’s attention shifted as she looked onto the field and saw who the batter was. “That’s Logan!” She pushed to her feet, cheering along with the crowd as her brother took off at a sprint, rounding first, then second, then third, then sliding into home.

“Yes,” she cried, throwing her arms around Rock’s shoulders in a hug.

He hugged her back, but knew the exact moment she realized she was hugging him, could feel her body stiffen and then pull away.

She pushed her hair back and sat down on the bleachers, ignoring Rock and acting as if she hadn’t just hugged him in celebration as she yelled, “Attaboy, Logan.”

A smile crept across his face.

Hey, it was progress.

In his book, anytime she wasn’t mad at him or lashing out at him with a snarky barb was improvement.

As he sat back down, Max squeezed in between him and Vivi and leaned against Rock’s leg. “Hey, did you see that? My uncle got a home run.”

“He sure did.” Rock held up his hand to give the boy a high-five. “You a big fan of baseball, Max?”

He nodded, his small glasses bobbling on his nose.

“You play on a team?”

“No, I don’t like to play baseball so much. But I like to watch it, and to read about it.”

Rock chuckled. This kid. “What’s your favorite baseball book?” He didn’t want to cause Quinn any more discomfort, so he let the topic of her ex drop and talked to Max about books and the game. The kid was smart and funny and easy to listen to.

Heck, he was a better conversationalist than some of the guys on his team.

He settled in, watching the game, cheering for his brother, and talking with his family and Quinn and Max.

Even though he seemed relaxed, he was still acutely aware of every instance that Quinn’s arm brushed his, or her leg pressed against his thigh. The scent of her hair almost drove him nuts each time she leaned across him to chat with Vivi about something.

Colt’s team won by seven runs, and the atmosphere was excited and happy as the townsfolk of Creedence left the stadium, exchanging high-fives and congratulatory handshakes.

Max giggled every time he slapped someone’s held-out hand. He grinned up at his mom. “Everybody’s so happy, we should celebrate and go out for ice cream.”

Way to go for it while Quinn was in a good mood. The kid was cute and smart.

“We’ll have to ask Uncle Logan when he comes out if he wants to stop on our way home.”

Rock gestured toward the parking lot. “I can give you a lift if you don’t want to wait. I’m heading that way anyway.” He winked at Max. “And I was thinking about stopping for a chocolate-dipped cone on my way home.”

Quinn arched an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

He shrugged, offering her his best innocent smile.

“Can we, Mom? Please? Uncle Logan takes forever to come out.”

“Fine. It seems like I’m outnumbered.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ll just text Logan and let him know we got another ride home.”

* * *

Quinn groaned at the mass of cars filling the parking lot of the Tastee Freez. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones who’d had the idea of stopping for ice cream.

Rock parked and got out, then held the door for Max to scramble out behind him. But Quinn hesitated, her hand on the handle of the door.

It had been bad enough that Rock had sat next to her at the softball game, but now all of these people were going to see them taking Max out for ice cream.

Small towns were notorious for having everyone involved in everyone else’s business, and Creedence was no different. They loved their gossip and could spend hours speculating on what other people were doing.

And her showing up at the hotbed of Creedence’s activity with the hometown hero—and her old boyfriend—Rockford James, could practically guarantee that the town’s tongues would soon be wagging.

Maybe we won’t run into anyone we know.

Ha. Like that was going to happen. Everyone knew Rock. Even if they had never met him, everyone in town claimed that they knew the local celebrity.

This was a bad idea. They should have waited for Logan. Going out for ice cream with her brother wouldn’t cause gossip to flood the community.

Rock didn’t live here anymore. He didn’t know how interfering these people could be. He just got to come home, soak up the glory of a few stops at the grocery store or The Creed, then head back to Denver.

Thinking about that reminded her Rock’s current visit was also temporary. He might be here now, but he was eventually going back.

Usually, she knew when he was back home and could stay out of his way. What the heck had happened this visit, and why was he suddenly so interested in renewing their “friendship”?

And really, that kiss a few days ago had felt like a lot more than “friendly.”

This whole thing, the kiss, the going out for ice cream, the way he’d touched her hand, had her feeling like her tenuous hold on her feelings for Rock were spinning out of control.

And she didn’t like it. Control was the one thing she craved, and she worked to keep her and Max’s life in a steady routine that both of them could count on. Being a single mom left all of their life decisions up to her, and she did her best to make good choices and keep their world on an even keel.

And Rock James was not a good choice. Nothing about him or how she felt when he was around her was anywhere close to an even keel. In fact, most of the time, she felt like she was sliding off her axis and clinging to normalcy by the ends of her fingernails.

Just watching him walk up to the ice cream parlor caused her anxiety to ramp up. He was so dang good-looking. He was funny and easygoing, and everybody loved him. Everyone wanted to give him a high-five, to talk to him, to touch him.

Even her. Lord help her, she wanted to touch him too.

Thoughts of touching him, and of his big hands touching her, had kept her awake, tossing and turning for the better part of the last two nights. And being tired was not helping. If anything, it was weakening her resolve to stay away from him, or at least drawing clear boundary lines.

She couldn’t sit in the truck all night. Opening the door, she stepped out, and he turned and offered her a grin. A grin that had her resolve melting and those boundary lines blurring like watercolor paints.

“You still like mint chocolate chip?” he asked as she joined him in line.

“I’m surprised you remember,” she answered drily.

“No you’re not. For cripes’ sake, Quinn, we’ve known each other most of our lives and grew up together. We’ve been here hundreds of times, and you always get the same thing. I know what your favorite ice cream flavor is, what your favorite color is, I know how much salt you like on your fries, and that you don’t like mustard on your hot dogs. I know your favorite book, your favorite band, and that you don’t like your food to touch or the color orange.”

Her body had stilled as he rattled off the list of things he knew about her, surprise and pleasure filling her at what he recalled.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice, and his warm breath tickled her neck. “I know you, Quinn Rivers.”

She bristled a little at his arrogance. “You don’t know everything. For your information, I do eat mustard now.”

His lips curled in an impish grin. “But I nailed everything else, didn’t I, darlin’?”

She shrugged.

His expression turned serious, and he kept his voice low and close to her ear. It felt intimate, him whispering private things to her while they stood in such a public place. “I remember, because we used to be inseparable; you were like my other half. You weren’t just my girl; you were my best friend. And I remember everything.”

She swallowed at the sudden emotion clogging her throat.

Because she remembered everything too. Remembered what it felt like to ride around beside him in his truck, to be the first person he looked for in the stands after he’d scored a goal, to have his warm, naked body wrapped around hers. But she also remembered the indescribable pain of her broken heart when he’d left her behind.

When he went off to be a hotshot star and left his country-bumpkin girlfriend in the dust of the dirt road heading out of their small town.

“I remember everything too,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to betray the intensity of the feelings he’d just brought to the surface.

“Quinn—” he started to say, but Max jumped up, pulling on his arm and telling him it was their turn at the window.

What would he have said? she wondered as she listened to him place their order. How would he have possibly explained away his actions? Would he have apologized? More to the point, would she, could she forgive him?

Did she even want to? Would it make any difference?

Really, it had been nine years ago, a lifetime. Max’s lifetime, at least. Did it even matter? Who was it helping to hold on to this grudge?

They said that forgiveness could set you free. Whoever the elusive they were. But had they had their hearts broken by the guy they thought they were going to spend the rest of their lives with?

It sounded so easy—just let it go. Like the song said. But could she just let it go? Let go of her outrage, her righteous indignation, her bitterness at the decisions of a teenage boy who’d been seduced by the bright lights of his hockey dreams coming true?

Rock handed her a cone, interrupting her thoughts. A drop of the minty green ice cream had dripped on his knuckle, and she had the sudden urge to pull his hand toward her and lick it off.

She grinned. Now that would get the local gossips talking.

“What’s that grin about?”

Shoot—she’d been caught fantasizing about slurping ice cream off him. But she sure as heck wasn’t going to admit that to him.

He didn’t really know everything about her—it’s not like he could read her dang mind. “I was just thinking that us being here together was going to give the locals something to talk about tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Heck, they’re probably already burning up the phone lines right now.” He leaned down, his face close enough to hers that she could smell the chocolate on his breath. “We could really give ’em something to talk about.”

Her body stilled, mesmerized by the nearness of his lips to hers.

Holy cow—snap out of it, girl.

She reared back, thwarting his attempt at stealing another kiss. “Don’t even try it, mister. Just because we’re not on the ice doesn’t mean you can’t still earn a punch in the nose.”

Rock threw his head back and laughed. “That would get them talking too.”

The sound of his laughter eased some of the tension building in her chest, and she let out a breath and licked the melting ice cream from around her cone.

He led them to a bench away from the center of the crowd, and they sat down with Max between them. Rock threw an arm easily around the back of the bench and stretched out his long legs in front of him.

Quinn had to turn away, the sight of him relaxed and licking an ice cream cone was causing a different kind of tension to build, and sparks of heat to swirl in her belly.

She needed to get ahold of herself and focus on Max. He’d ordered a chocolate-dipped cone, and the ice cream was already melting and dripping down the front of his shirt.

He didn’t often get dirty, and she loved this adorable, messy side of her little boy. She sometimes wondered if he picked up on her need for control and order, and that’s why he kept his room tidy and his toys organized.

Ruffling his hair, she dropped a kiss on his forehead, then handed him a napkin.

They talked easily about the softball game and spent time catching up on the news of the town and people from their school. Their school had been small, and they knew everyone in their classes and most everyone in the classes around them.

Finished with their treats, they got back in the truck, and Max fell asleep within a few minutes. His body slumped against her side, held up by the strap of the seat belt as she stroked his hair.

“You’re a good mom,” Rock told her, a wistful smile on his face.

“How do you know? You’ve only been around us a few days.” He might have been sweet-talking her, but the praise warmed her just the same.

“I just know. It doesn’t take long to be able to tell.”

“Maybe you can tell because you have such a great mom as an example.”

“True. But it’s also obvious how much you love Max, and he seems like a bright, well-adjusted kid.”

“He is. He’s the best. I love him so much sometimes the magnitude of it hurts my chest. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“See, it’s saying stuff like that.” He took his eyes off the road for a second to give her a meaningful glance. “I’m proud of you.”

She turned her head away, looking out the window so he wouldn’t see the sudden tears that had sprung to her eyes. Sheesh. She must be tired; she wasn’t usually this emotional, but Rock’s words and the fact that he noticed meant something to her. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“I mean it. I think you’re amazing. And I have the utmost respect for what you do. Sometimes I feel like my whole life is about hockey, that everything I do surrounds the team, the schedule, the next game. Someone tells me where to go, when to be there, what to wear. I don’t make any of the decisions, I just show up and play the best I can.”

“That’s not entirely true. And a lot of people depend on you to play well. You also have people watching you, judging you, scrutinizing your every action. If I screw up and feed Max a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast, or don’t get three fruit servings in him during the day, nobody knows but me.”

“I have a feeling you don’t screw up very often. It sure seems to me like you’ve got this whole ‘mom’ thing pretty well figured out.”

“That’s nice of you to say. But I think you’ve got this whole ‘millionaire superstar hockey player’ life pretty well figured out too. You drive a fancy car, and I imagine that you live in a gorgeous house. I’ve seen what you’ve done for your family’s ranch and for the town. It doesn’t seem like life is too rough for you.”

He shrugged. “I’m not saying my life isn’t good. You know I dreamed of playing professional hockey since I put on my first pair of skates, and I’m lucky I get to do what I love every day and get paid well to do it. But this life isn’t going to last forever. And sometimes I think about what I gave up in order to follow my dreams. Who I gave up.”

They pulled into the driveway of Rivers Gulch. He stopped the truck in front of the house but didn’t get out.

Instead, he turned to face her and stretched his arm out along the back of the seat. “I was an idiot. A stupid teenage kid who was only thinking about himself. I got caught up in being a big shot hero, but I didn’t act heroic. I acted selfish, and I’m sorry. I should have tried harder to make us work, should have given you a chance to be part of my new life. That one decision has always haunted me, and I’ve often wondered how things could have been if I hadn’t broken things off with you that summer. If I’d only had you come with me and tried to make a place for you in my world.”

Instead of choosing your career over me and breaking my heart.

The words were there, on the tip of her tongue, ready to be spewed with the bitterness and anger that usually hit her when she thought about it. But tonight she didn’t want to feel angry and sour. All night she’d been thinking about forgiveness and letting that resentment go.

Her dad liked to tell her that things happen for a reason. She didn’t always have to know the reason, and a lot of times the reason may never be clear, but it’s there just the same.

And her reason was lying on the seat next to her. She looked down at her son, who was still sound asleep, his body curled against her, his breathing even.

She let out a small sigh. “I was a stupid teenager too. And I made a few dumb decisions myself, but they resulted in the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If all of that old stuff hadn’t happened the way it did, I wouldn’t have Max.”

He smiled down at the boy. Not a phony smile like some of the guys who’d tried to ask her out gave her son, but a real smile that told her Rock really did care about Max. “I know. I think about that sometimes too. And I don’t want to bring up all the old hurts of the past, beyond the point of telling you that I’m sorry. I can’t take back what I did or change what happened back then. But I can change what I do today and tomorrow. I’m tired of fighting with you, of being enemies, I want to be your friend, if nothing else.”

He picked up a loose strand of her hair and twisted it between his fingers. “You were the best part of my life, and for the past eight years, I feel like a piece of me has been missing. And that piece is you. I want you back in my life, Q.”

“I don’t know what to say.” She didn’t know how to even process what he was saying or why her body had responded with warmth at hearing him use the old nickname.

“I know I hurt you, but damn it, I’m tired of us being enemies. I don’t want to push, but I want you back. And I know that I’m gonna catch hell from Ham and your brother, but I’m willing to risk it.” He offered her a grin and a quick wink. “How about we start with something easy, like you let me take you out to dinner? Tomorrow night?”

Her heart lifted at his offer, but she shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t.”