Blame It on the Rodeo (18 page)

Bob cleared his throat. “The school nurse says, other than an impressive shiner, Dylan will be fine.”

Courtney blinked away the tears that shimmered in her eyes. “I'm very sorry for Josh's behavior. I'm sure he'll tell you the same thing. Do you know what started the fight?”

“Coach Oak here was the one who intervened. Travis, why don't you tell her what you told me.”

At Bob's signal Travis rose. He gave the brim of his baseball hat a tug. “Ms. Smith,” he said, aiming a wide smile in her direction. An effort that apparently had no effect on Josh's mom. He chalked her grudging “Courtney” up to a mild irritation at having to repeat herself and plunged into the task he'd been given.

“Neither boy would say much,” he admitted. “From the little I was able to piece together, it had something to do with baseball.”

The baby in her arms whimpered, and Courtney's posture slumped. Without a word, she reached into the big bag that hung from one shoulder and came up with a bottle. Bob waited until she cradled the little one before he launched into a review of the school's no-fighting policy.

Travis only half listened, his attention riveted on the slim blonde, who said “Yes” and “I understand” in all the right places without glancing up from the baby. He frowned, recalling one of a thousand nights when his own mom had juggled his demands as well as his brother's while she set dinner on the table. He made a mental note to send her some flowers. Raising two boys without help had to have been harder than he'd ever imagined, but at least their dad had waited until he and Cal were in their teens before he'd split. The challenges Courtney Smith faced in trying to care for a baby and a young son had to be much worse. An urge to help her and her boy stirred in his chest and he smiled, glad he'd found a way to do that.

“I understand what a tough year this has been,” Bob said at last. Sympathy clouded his eyes. “For you and the rest of your family. Ordinarily, I'd expel Josh, but Coach Oak has come up with a solution we think will help your son stay in school.”

At his cue Travis summoned his most disarming smile.

“Courtney.” He paused, half expecting the flicker of interest he usually got from members of the opposite sex. His self-confidence took a small hit when the prettiest pair of blue eyes he'd seen in a long time remained indifferent. He countered her reaction with a quick reminder that his plans for the future didn't include a single mom with two children.

Back on track, he continued, “I understand that Josh's old school didn't have the same high expectations for its students that we require here at OBE, so he meets with a tutor instead of taking Phys Ed.”

In an oddly endearing move, Courtney tugged her bottom lip between even white teeth. She nodded.

“Now, I wouldn't dare suggest we change that.” Out of the corner of one eye, he aimed a pointed glance toward the principal. Academics always came first at Orange Blossom. “But I'm sure you're aware of how important exercise and sports are for growing youngsters. Your son apparently has quite the passion for baseball. I'd like a chance to see if I can channel it into something that won't get him into so much trouble.”

He'd have sworn he caught Courtney's attention when he mentioned the game in which he'd spent his life trying to excel. Taking her reaction as a good sign, he carried on. “Little League tryouts are this weekend. If you'll make sure Josh is there, I'll draft him to my team, the Sluggers. The sportsmanship and camaraderie he'll learn this season will go a long way toward turning around his attitude.”

He frowned when Courtney shook her head.

“Baseball?” Her eyes darkened. “Thanks, Coach. But no thanks.”

Travis fought the urge to scratch his head. What could the woman possibly have against baseball? He started to argue, but Bob beat him to the punch.

“Now, Ms. Smith, I can assure you that Coach Oak will take good care of your son. I've known him most of his life, and though this is only his third year at OBE, he's already earned the respect of our entire school and community. He's great at encouraging young boys to achieve their potential. No one in Cocoa Village knows more about baseball than he does. Why, he'd be pitching for the Norfolk Cannons right now if he hadn't broken a couple of ribs his last year in the minors.”

Bob made such a good wingman that Travis promised to buy the man a beer the next time the teaching staff met for happy hour. But enough was enough. He held up a hand to stop the flow of compliments and get the focus back where it belonged, on Josh. He glanced at Courtney Smith, hoping the principal had made the right impression.

“Josh doesn't play organized sports,” she coolly insisted. She stared at Travis as if he had the plague. “And he most assuredly does not play—” her lips formed what looked an awful lot like a sneer “—baseball.”

Never? Never played catch? Never ran around the bases?

Travis clenched his teeth. Every one of his returning players had started with T-ball when they were six, followed by two or three years in the lower levels before he drafted them. Josh Smith would fit in with them like a fish out of water. He opened his mouth to tell Bob he'd changed his mind about putting the boy on his team. One look at Courtney's pale face renewed his resolve to do what was right by her son.

“Last year my Little League team won the district tournament. We're hoping to do even better this year. That might be harder to accomplish if I draft such an inexperienced player.” He paused, giving the single mom a chance to appreciate the sacrifice everyone was making for her boy. “But I believe baseball will give Josh's passion for the game a healthy outlet. From what I've seen, he's a sturdy little scrapper. Who knows?” he asked, prepared to dangle the carrot every parent wanted for their child. “He might just be a superstar waiting to be discovered.”

From the color that filled Courtney's cheeks, Travis knew he'd scored a home run. He studied her, waiting for the effusive thanks that came whenever he chose a boy for his team.

Courtney's lips firmed. Her shoulders straightened. Travis swore the temperature in the room dropped when she pinned him with an icy stare.

“Absolutely not,” she issued through clenched teeth. “I will not allow my son to have anything to do with Little League. Or with you.”

In her arms, the baby wailed.

Copyright © 2014 by Linda Duke Duncan

ISBN-13: 9781460326008

BLAME IT ON THE RODEO

Copyright © 2014 by Amanda Renee

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