Loving Him Off the Field (Santa Fe Bobcats #2)(50)

She sighed. “If you’re losing interest—”

“Don’t,” he said harshly. “Stop right now before you say something we’re both going to regret. Charlie deserves better than either of us throwing around stupid accusations and fighting over nothing.” He reached up and pulled at his hair while paused at a red light. Co-parenting was truly the evil of all evils.

He heard the lecture coming by the tone of her voice. That I’m older than you so I know better way she spoke was like driving spikes through his head. Yes, she was nearly ten years older, but they were both first-time parents. It didn’t make her an expert any more than him. “He’s missing you so badly, and you did blow him off last weekend. Now you’re ignoring his calls.”

“I didn’t blow him off,” Killian said through his teeth. “Is he in another room?”

“Of course he is.” He’d assumed, but had to know. “You know I wouldn’t speak about important things in front of him. He’s watching a movie in the living room.”

Killian thought of Emma’s simple three-bedroom ranch home, and the warmth and life she’d infused through the walls. Stark contrast to his bland two-bedroom apartment. The apartment he lived in so his son could have that three-bedroom home and a mother without any money worries.

“Is something else going on, Emma?”

There was a slight pause, then a cautious, “No.”

“Because you’ve never had a problem with my schedule before. In fact, you’ve usually bent over backward during the last few weeks and play-offs, giving me a lot of leeway and not crawling up my ass because I didn’t answer on the first ring.”

“Language,” she said primly, which was a joke given the way she’d answered the phone.

“What’s changed, Emma?”

“Nothing,” she said sharply.

“I’ll come out there as soon as the season’s over. I always do.”

“You also always let him come to away games if we can manage it.” Emma was starting to get hotter, he could hear it. He imagined her porcelain skin flushing with anger and frustration, her blonde hair slowly escaping whatever prissy updo she’d pulled it into that morning. “You come out here more often. You let him visit you over long weekends. Where have those visits been?”

“I’m not doing this right now. Hand the phone to Charlie, and I’ll talk now.”

“He’s watching a—”

“Now, Emma.”

He heard her huff, then her muffled voice as she called for their son to come to the phone. While he had a moment, he let out a groan of frustration and hit his hand once against the steering wheel.

Five minutes later, his heart rate back down to a normal speed, he felt refreshed from his chat with Charlie. Hearing about his son’s day always made him smile, even at the worst of times. And he wished again, just for a minute, he and Emma could have made a more conventional parenting pair for their awesome kid.

But some things just didn’t work out the way they were meant to. He breathed deeply, caught a lingering whiff of clean linen from Aileen, and thought about the feisty freckled reporter once more.

Yeah, some things just didn’t work out.

*

Aileen felt like an idiot. She’d put on makeup. Makeup, for God’s sake, to go to bowling league. Fortunately, two of her three teammates seemed indifferent to the change. Cindy had said she’d looked nice, in an offhand manner, before going back to looking up new team shirts on her phone. Al hadn’t noticed at all. But Ernie was watching her with an eagle eye, as if waiting for any sign of weakness or desire to spill her guts, so he could pounce on it.

And to top it all off, she was bowling like crap. She finished her round, disgusted with the two pins she’d left behind, and walked back to the seating area to flop down by Ernie.

“Kid, you couldn’t bowl worse if you were blindfolded.”

“Thanks, Ernie. Your pep talks are always treasured.” She reached down and fiddled with the lace of her bowling shoe. Yeah. As if that were her problem tonight.

“Want me to get you some kiddie bumpers?”

“Har, har.”

He sniffed. “I could probably find one of those stands the toddlers use to perch the ball on and then roll it down the lane.”

“Okay, Ernie. What’s going on?” She straightened, pushed the hair out of her face, and found herself looking at Killian instead. He stood, hands in his jacket pockets, behind Ernie, grinning. “Oh. Hi.”

“Oh, hi,” Ernie mocked under his breath, standing to take his turn at the lane.

Killian took his seat. “Having a bad night?”

“Not my best,” she agreed, embarrassed. Then suddenly felt the most ridiculous urge to amp up her game to eleven and kick some serious ass. What the hell was that all about? Bowling had always been a fun activity, social more than competitive. A way to get out of the house and see the world besides reporting on it. And now she wanted to show off? She was worse than a high school quarterback, hot dogging for his girlfriend in the stands.

That was the real embarrassment. The way Killian affected her so intensely.

They watched as Ernie bowled a spare and stopped to speak with Al a moment. “Should I get up?”

“It’s okay. He’ll sit somewhere else. No assigned seating.” She shifted, letting her slick-soled shoes slide over the cracked linoleum floor. “So, what’d you do after practice?”