Unforgettable (Cloverleigh Farms #5)(29)

“That was your fault. You made good spaghetti sauce.”

“In those days, I could make two things reliably—spaghetti and chicken parmesan casserole.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that.” Tyler picked up his coffee. “I used to eat it for breakfast the next day.”

“What? Ew!”

He shrugged. “I liked it.”

I sipped my coffee. “Do you cook?”

“The only thing I can make reliably in the kitchen is a mess. Yet another reason why my sister should think twice about putting me in charge of her kid. The poor thing would probably starve.”

“Hey, you guys!” Frannie called, making her way toward our table.

“Hey, Frannie.” Setting my cup down, I stood up and gave her a hug before gesturing across the table. “Do you remember Sadie’s brother, Tyler Shaw? Tyler, this is my youngest sister, Frannie.”

Tyler rose to his feet and extended his hand. “Nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too.” Frannie beamed at him. “My husband Mack played baseball with you in high school, and he’s always talking about how good that team was.”

“We were pretty damn good,” Tyler said with a shrug.

“You should come by while you’re in town if you can. But don’t be surprised if he drags you outside to play catch or something.” Frannie rolled her eyes. “None of his girls are too into sports and he’s always begging for someone to go with him to games or toss a ball around in the yard or even just watch the playoffs on TV.” She giggled. “One time, before we were married, they said they would watch with him as long as he’d let them paint his nails.”

I laughed. “And did he?”

“Totally,” she said gleefully. “Then they pretended they didn’t have any remover, and he had to go to the store to buy some with hot pink fingernails.”

Tyler looked at me but gestured at Frannie. “Did you hear that? This is why I don’t want kids.”

Frannie grinned. “They’re really not that bad. I should get back to work. You guys enjoy breakfast. Nice seeing you, Tyler.”

“You too,” he said, taking his seat.

“Call me later, April.”

I said I would and sat down, but we’d barely started to eat when my phone started blowing up with texts. I glanced at the screen to make sure there wasn’t some kind of emergency at work and saw they were all from Frannie.

OMG!!!!

He’s SO HOT.

Is this a date?

I’m dying.

Call me ASAP!!!!

Shaking my head, I dropped my phone back into my bag.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing. My sister is ridiculous.”

“So is mine. Did I tell you that in addition to believing I am a responsible adult, she’s insisting I dance with her at this wedding?”

I smiled and licked some icing from my finger. “You don’t like dancing?”

He gave me his grumpy old man face. “No.”

“Well, the father-daughter dance is a tradition,” I said gently. “You’re playing that role for her. And it’s two minutes—three at the most. You can get through one song for her, right?”

He stabbed a potato with his fork and stuck it in his mouth.

“Right?” I repeated forcefully.

“She wants me to pick the song,” he complained. “I don’t know any songs that would be right for that.”

“I’ll help you.”

“Everyone will be watching me.”

“Everyone watched you for years on the field and it never bothered you. In fact, I am pretty sure you enjoyed it.”

“That’s different.” He picked up his coffee and took a drink. “I was good at baseball. I have never been good at dancing.”

I tore off a doughy piece of cinnamon roll and popped it into my mouth. “Will it make you feel better if I show you a few simple moves to show her off so no one focuses on you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can teach you a few easy, partnered dance steps so you feel like you know what you’re doing. I’ve done it for brides and grooms before.”

He looked confused. “Like, twirls and shit?”

Laughing, I took another bite. “Something like that.”

“Excuse me,” said a scratchy voice to my right.

I looked up to see an elderly man standing to the side of our table. He looked like he might be in his eighties or close to it—his posture was stooped, his belly was round, he needed suspenders to hold up his pants, and he wore thick glasses. His ears looked too big for his head, on which he wore a bright red ball cap. Tufts of white hair stuck out beneath it.

“Coach?” Tyler blinked at the old timer.

“Is that you, Shaw?”

“It’s me.”

“I thought so. But my wife says I can’t see shit, so I wasn’t sure. Came to take a closer look.”

Tyler laughed as he rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Good to see you, Coach.”

The old guy shook it but pulled him in for a hug too. Whacked his back a few times. “Good to see you too, son. You playing any ball?”

“Nah, I’m retired.”