Sway (Landry Family #1)(29)

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” I mutter.

Hux grabs my arm, jerking it up and down. “Let’s go!”

Lincoln watches with amusement as Huxley drags me down the stands and to the gate, jabbering endlessly the entire time. I pretend to follow along with his all-out fanboy antics, but I try to play it cool. To pretend like Barrett isn’t waiting for me.

My heart strikes against my ribs, pounding out of control. I hear Hux’s voice, but not the words, over the roar of blood in my ears.

Whether I want to be or not, I’m excited to see him again. Even if it’s in a dugout full of baseball players and a star-struck little boy, I can’t deny it.

As if he were expecting us, a giant of a man lets us right through and tells us to stay on the gravel and not get into the line of play.

“A real dugout, Mom!” Hux exclaims as we get closer. “So cool! My friends at school will never believe me!”

“It’s awesome, huh?” I smile.

“So awesome.” He gives me a wide grin, one showcasing his missing tooth. Pure happiness drips off of him and, for a moment, I don’t feel like I’m failing him. He’s not with a babysitter while I work or missing out on activities that little boys with fathers get to do. For once, I’m with him in a moment he’ll never forget, a moment he can brag to his little friends about.

The steps leading below are dirty and the air smells of sweat and salt. I try not to breathe it in, but as I shudder, I catch the notes of his cologne.

As Hux gasps, “Wow,” I look up and into the face of Barrett.

He’s smiling with more than a drop of hesitation, like he’s afraid I’m going to be mad. How can I be, though, when he just made Hux’s year? Twice.

The effects of my return smile are immediate and obvious. His shoulders relax and he visibly blows out a deep breath.

“Hey, there!” Lincoln says, coming over to Hux. He grabs his shoulders and shakes them in some sort of a guy welcome gesture. “Well, what do you think?”

“This is cool,” Hux says, taking everything in.

“It is, right? Do you play?”

“Yeah. I play second base,” he says proudly. “My arm isn’t as strong as it needs to be to play pitcher or center.”

“I’ll show you some exercises before you go that’ll help, if you want.”

“For real?” Hux asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, for real,” Lincoln chuckles. He looks up at me and extends a hand. “I’m Lincoln Landry.”

We shake, his hand a bit smaller but more calloused than Barrett’s. “I’m Alison Baker.”

“Guys, this is Alison and Hux Baker. This is my brother, Graham, and my oldest brother, the mayor, Barrett.”

“I knew you weren’t a baseball player,” Huxley says.

“Hux!” I exclaim, my cheeks reddening as Graham and Lincoln burst into laughter. Barrett just grins and shakes his head.

“You didn’t even make it to the plate,” Hux points out.

“You are now officially my favorite kid ever,” Lincoln says, catching his breath. “Come on. Let’s go play catch in the bullpen.”

“Can I?” Hux pleads. “Please, Mom?”

I hesitate, but before I can think it through, Lincoln puts me at ease.

“It’s safe. No one can get in there. And there aren’t any balls that will hit him or anything. I promise I’ll take care of him. I mean, after that crack at Barrett, I owe him one.”

“Please?” Hux begs.

I glance at Barrett. He’s standing with his back to the wall, his arms over his chest. He watches the interaction, purposefully staying out of it, letting me make the decision with no pressure from him.

“Sure,” I relent. “I can wait in my seat.”

“You can wait here,” Barrett interjects. “There’s a room in the back so you don’t get trampled when the guys come in. Linc can bring him back there, right?”

“Sure thing,” Lincoln says. He grabs Hux’s shoulder and off they go, Graham trailing behind them, muttering under his breath.

I’m left standing with the mayor.

He starts to speak, but thinks better of it. Instead, he touches me lightly on the small of my back, a gesture that would seem innocuous to a bystander, but feels anything but. The warmth of his palm, the zing of the contact, makes my jaw slack and my knees weak.

Guiding me through a doorway in the back of the dugout, we enter a hallway. He leads me into a small room with a desk and a water cooler. The door is pulled shut behind him and when I turn around, his chest is rising and falling just like mine.

“I was going to ask what you’re doing here, but you know what? I really don’t care,” he marvels. “I’m just glad you are.”

He closes the distance between us and stops right in front of me. If I reached out, I could touch his face, run my fingers down his freshly-shaven cheeks. I could kiss his lips, the one his tongue is skimming over as I watch nervously, anxiously . . . breathlessly.

“Thank you,” I say, getting lost in his emerald eyes. “I know you set that whole thing up with Lincoln and Huxley, and I can’t thank you enough. This after the tickets today? You just made his year.”

“It was my pleasure. But can I tell you a secret?”