Page 20 of Big Catch
“Thomas,” I say. “You need to be careful, bud.”
“Sorry, lady,” the eight-year-old boy says and drops to his knees in front of Aly. He angles his head sideways to see her, putting his face right in front of hers. It would have been funny if she weren’t hurt. “You okay, lady?” he asks.
She sucks in a shaky breath and says, “You have three seconds.”
The boy stiffens and glances at me, worry dancing in his big brown eyes. “Three seconds. Why do I have three seconds?” Thomas asks, his voice quivering slightly.
“To form a defense,” she says. “Because Braydon, Tyler, and I are going to score on your team if you don’t.”
She jumps up and drops the ball, holding it with her foot as the kids squeal and rush down the street to the makeshift net put together with sticks and fishing line. Relief washes through me. Ty and I exchange a look, and in that instant my chest swells, consumed with need for this fun, loving woman, and I don’t think I’m the only one.
“You sure?” I ask Alyssa as she refills her lungs.
“Yeah. Let’s show them how it’s done.”
She kicks the ball to me, and the three of us pass the ball back and forth as we close the distance. The boys are jumping with excitement and waving their hands to distract us. Thomas protects the net, darting from one side to the other. A few of the locals come from the stores to see what the ruckus is all about.
Since Ty and I played on the varsity team in college, we easily kick the ball back and forth, and I can’t stop grinning. Ty makes a run for it, and the kids hurry to catch up. I kick it to him, and he slides it in the net. Alyssa claps, and the boys grumble.
“More,” one of the boys says.
“Switch places,” I say. “Ty, you get in the net.”
I kick the ball a distance away, and the boys run after it as the three of us position up. The big grin on Aly’s face is like a punch to the gut. I stand there and stare at her for a moment, my heart pounding against my rib cage as I think about the possibilities, but when one of the kids circles her, and she picks him up and spins him around to stop him from scoring, my whole world shifts.
Motherfucker.
As Aly and the boy laugh, her eyes bright with childlike enthusiasm, the sweet sound of her voice triggers something foreign inside me. I need to be with her again, to touch her all over and give her pleasure. I turn and look at Ty, life as I know it changing before my eyes. Amazing. Terrifying. As we exchange a look, I get it. I totally fucking get what Ty was talking about that morning on the beach. I look back at Aly, and visions of coaching the soccer team, the little league team, race through my mind.
Get your shit together, dude.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head. What the fuck is going on with me? Aly is here for two short weeks—on a vacation for epic sex for Christ’s sake—and that’s all that’s between us. Sex. So why the hell am I thinking about soccer teams and little league and long-fucking-term with her?
“Bray,” Aly screams as the boy wiggles free.
I snap out of it and steal the ball from the kid. He rushes around me, and I toy with him as I do tricks with the ball.
“Nice moves,” Aly calls out.
“I could teach you, if you like.”
A blush forms on her face because, yeah, we’re not really talking about soccer here.
I eventually let the boy take the ball from me, and he kicks it to his friend who is lined up at the net. Ty fakes a play, and the ball goes in. The boys start cheering. On the sidewalk, I see Becca with her youngest son, Cecil.
“Boys, it’s time to head home,” she says, waving for them to come over.
“Hey, Becca,” I say and walk toward her as the boys groan and complain about leaving. She looks worried, and my stomach tightens. So far, her pregnancy has been going well, and I hope she’s not ill. “Everything okay?” My gaze goes to Cecil, who has a bright red rash on his face. “Cecil okay?”
“He hasn’t been feeling well.”
“What are his symptoms?” Alyssa asks, coming up beside me.
“Becca, this is Alyssa. I’m sure you remember checking her in,” I say, “but did you know she was a doctor?”
Becca’s eyes go wide as Alyssa drops to her knees. “Hey, Cecil,” she says softly. “How are you feeling?” My throat tightens with pride as I watch her slip into doctor mode.
“Bad,” he says and snuggles in close to his mother’s leg.
