Page 12 of Catching the Coach
“It’s just a couple of small adjustments,” Kessler says, stepping out from behind Hudson. “Take your position.”
I look at him for a second before doing as he asks. He comes up behind me, placing his arms over mine. I suck in a breath and his scent fills my nose. It’s a mixture of leather and spice. “Rotate this hand like this,” he says into my ear, rotating my left hand inward. “You’re also lifting your right shoulder a bit before you swing. Make sure you keep it level as you swing through.” He places a hand on my shoulder and gently pushes it down. He softly traces his fingertips from my shoulder to my elbow, giving me goosebumps. “Cold?” he asks with amusement in his voice.
I clear my throat. “Nope, I’m good. Let’s do this.” I step away from him and back into the batter’s box. I hear him chuckle as he walks back behind Hudson. I set up my stance and make the minor adjustments Kessler gave me. Joey launches a pitch at me and I take a swing.
Crack.
I launch the ball into center field. Dropping the bat, I take off towards first, making it in plenty of time before the ball reaches my first baseman.
“Wooo,” I yell, jumping up, “looks like you boys owe me some laps!” Groans ensue, so I add, “Not today though. Maybe next practice.” Walking over to Hudson, I hold my fist up for a bump.
“Nice job today bud.” He returns my bump and gives me a big grin.
“Today was awesome,” he says and starts to take his catcher’s gear off. Seeing him this happy makes me happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him, and thanks to Kessler, he’s had a day he will never forget.
I look at Kessler and hold my hand out for a shake. “Thank you for doing this. The boys… this is a day they will remember forever.” He takes my hand and gives it a slight shake. I notice again how warm and comforting it is, like a hug. A slight roughness to it from years of use.
“I enjoyed today. It reminded me why I fell in love with the game in the first place.” He stares into my sunglasses like he can see my eyes. I stare back, still holding onto his hand. The air between us crackling. Neither of us pulls our hands away. In the distance, I hear the distinct music of an ice cream truck. Something clicks in my brain, breaking the trance. Pulling my hand away, I look over my shoulder at the increasing sound of the music. An ice cream truck is entering the parking lot. I look back at Kessler.
“Did–did you have an ice cream truck come to us?” I ask in disbelief.
His smirk turns into a big grin. “I know a guy.”
“You know an Ice Cream guy?” Not believing him because from what I’ve seen of this man’s body, he does not eat ice cream. Period. End of story.
He nods his head. “My best friend growing up opened up an ice cream shop a few years ago after he retired from the military. I gave him the start-up money. He recently expanded by adding a truck. It was a smart investment. Who doesn’t love ice cream?”
“Lactose intolerant people?” I answer.
That gets a chuckle out of Kessler. “I guarantee they still love it, it just doesn’t love them back. Plus Garrett has a variety of lactose-free options, so they’re included too.”
“Inclusion at its finest,” I say, getting another chuckle out of Kessler. I find myself liking the sound of the deep rumble in his chest. Which raises the alarms in my brain that I need to get away from this man before I develop… feelings.
“I uh, need to talk to the parents about the truck,” I say pointing to the truck behind me and backing away. I’m not looking where I’m going of course, because I’m too busy trying to get away from the man currently doing things to my body that I don’t want. My foot lands on something round. Kessler moves forward just as I feel my foot roll out from under me, making me land square on my ass.
“Ooof,” I say as the breath rushes out of me.
Kessler rushes forward and kneels down next to me. “Are you ok?” Concern on his face.
“Mom!” Hudson yells running up to me and landing on his knees next to me. “Are you ok?”
I hold up my hands. “I’m fine.” I pick up the damn ball I tripped over and hand it to Hudson. “I just wasn’t watching where I was going.” I get to my feet and I feel Kessler’s hand land on the small of my back, lighting my skin on fire.
“Are you sure you’re ok?” His green eyes bore into me.
“I’m good. Just a bruised ego.” I joke, brushing myself off and walking over to the group of parents that have formed at the bleachers. I explain the bet with Kessler and ask if it’s okay if we treat their kids to ice cream. Everyone agrees, kids line up at the truck and ice cream is distributed.
Kara walks up to me, an amused look on her face. “You good?”
“Peachy.” I deadpan her. “Of course that would happen to me.”
She laughs and grabs me by the elbow dragging me to the back on the line with our boys “Come on, Ice cream fixes everything.”
All the kids have gotten their ice cream and left by the time Kara and I have gotten up to the window with our boys. Kessler is at the window talking with his ice cream man friend.
The boys are ahead of us ordering their ice creams. Kara turns to me, eyes wide, mouthing the letters O M G. I side-eye her with raised eyebrows.
I mouth back to her “I know.” This man was not the ice cream man we had when we were kids. It was like Zeus and Fabio had a baby and gave him the gift of creating creamy, sweet treats. His chiseled jaw was lightly dusted with a five o’clock shadow, I don’t even mind the dirty blond man bun sitting atop his head, and I’m usually not attracted to long hair. It gives his face a more defined, viking look. Tattoos are everywhere you look, down his neck, over his knuckles, up his arms. Instead of taking away from his looks, they only enhance them. He looks at us after giving our kids their chosen sugar rush and flashes us what I will forever refer to as a ‘fuck me’ smile. “Oh holy Jesus,” I whisper, glacier blue eyes piercing my retinas.
