Anything for Her(60)

Sean gaped.

Nolan let out a hearty laugh and went inside.

Allie retrieved the ball, dribbled away from the garage, turned and shot. Swish.

“You conned me.”

“No,” she said. “If I’d suggested putting some money on whether I could make a free throw, then I’d have been conning you.”

“You can’t have played basketball.”

“Because I’m a girl?” She shot right over his head. Swish.

His mouth dropped open again. He closed it with a snap. “Because you’re short,” he said indignantly.

Allie relented enough to smile at him. “No, I didn’t play varsity or anything, because I am too short. But we had to play in PE, and for some reason I always had a really good shot.” She shrugged. “I’m good at bat, too.”

His eyes grew calculating. “You wanna play horse?”

“What do I win if I beat you?”

“You don’t have a lawn I could mow.”

“I could teach you to cut out fabric. Saturdays are busy in the store. A little extra help would be great.”

The appalled expression on his face made her day.

“No way I’m going to be seen in a fabric store!”

“Well, then?”

“Five bucks.”

“Five bucks it is.”

She won the first game. Grimly determined, Sean shot from farther and farther out during the second game, eventually beyond her reach. “Horse!” he declared triumphantly.

“No fair,” she said. “Play-off, and you can’t use your height advantage that way.”

“Fine. You start.” He bounced the ball to her.

They were midgame when she heard a car in the driveway. Sean had been dribbling in preparation for a tricky side-court shot when he heard it, too, and stopped with the ball in his hands.

Her mother parked behind Allie’s Toyota and got out to survey them in mild surprise. “You’re playing basketball?”

“Yes, and kicking Sean’s butt.” She grinned at him. “Sean, this is my mother, Cheryl Wright. Mom, Sean Kearney.” Thank goodness she remembered his last name.

Her mother walked to them, her hand out. “It’s a pleasure, Sean. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yeah, um, hi.” He looked down at his hand as if checking to be sure it was there, then shook. The screen door banged, and he turned in relief. “There’s Nolan.”

“I see,” Mom murmured.

Allie felt really strange watching these two people size each other up. Mom was her usual stylish self, her dark blond hair cut in a wavy cap, her makeup perfect but not overdone. She wore slacks, an open-weave, elbow-length sweater over a camisole and flat shoes—nothing that should have stood out, but it struck Allie suddenly how attractive her mother was.

Petite, like Allie—the dancer’s body had definitely come from her mom. Why hadn’t she remarried? She’d have only been—Allie had to think—forty-five when they left Dad and Jason behind and moved to Washington. Did she feel so betrayed by Dad’s abandonment she wasn’t interested in trusting a man again?

Like mother, like daughter?

Allie swiveled her gaze to Nolan, who, in his usual jeans and athletic shoes and T-shirt, long-sleeved in deference to the changing weather, stood at the top of the steps, smiling at her mother. Allie realized again that he wasn’t handsome, exactly. Mom wouldn’t think so, anyway. At the moment Allie was very much reminded of his stone man statue. This was a strong man. His dark hair was ruffled, the sleeves of his shirt were pushed up to reveal muscular forearms, and the blue of his eyes seemed more vivid than ever.

“I’m glad you could come, Mrs. Wright.” He sounded warm, as if they were old friends. “Why don’t you come on in? Unless you want to watch the tiebreaker game.”

“Cheryl, please,” Mom said. “Tiebreaker, is it?”

Sean snorted. “I’m going easy on her.”

Allie tilted her head. “You wish.”

Laughing, Mom started up the steps. “I’d be glad to help you instead of refereeing, Nolan.”

Allie was aghast to see her mother disappear into the house with Nolan. Alone. What would they talk about?

“Maybe we should quit,” she said to Sean.

“Not a chance.” He shot the ball from where he was standing, and danced in place when it dropped through the hoop. “Match that!”