Playing for Keeps (18 page)

Noah gave her a lopsided grin. “I would say it’s simply your lucky day, but I admit that I have an agenda.”

“Imagine that,” Olivia responded. She nodded toward the uniform. “Aren’t you a bit over the hill?”

“I’ve still got some game,” he said, drawing a laugh from the students. “Actually, the team gave me this uniform yesterday. Even has my old number—fifteen.” He turned around to display the number, bringing a round of applause and some whistles.

“Should have been retired,” Jimmy shouted over the cheers.

“Thanks. Pass that thought on to the powers that be. But that’s not why I’m here interrupting class,” he said with a cute expression of apology to Olivia, who tried her best not to blush. “I’m going from classroom to classroom to encourage you guys to come to the game today.”

“Miss Lawson already encouraged us,” Chrissie announced with an I-had-something-to-do-with-it grin. “She even said we could turn in our homework on Monday if we went to the game.”

“No kidding?” Noah looked at Olivia with pleased surprise. “Wow, you could knock me over with a feather.”

“I fully support extracurricular activities,” she said primly and dearly hoped that everything she said sounded suggestive only to her own ears. “And this is a big game.”

“Sure is, so I hope to see y’all there. You too, Miss Lawson.” He slapped his cap back on his head and gave her a wink as he moved on down the hall.

She was met with openmouthed stares.

“Wow,” Jackie cooed with a shake of her head, “Noah Falcon sure is into you, Miss Lawson.”

“Well, we are starring in a play together,” Olivia reminded them, hoping that her breezy tone hid the flutter in her stomach. “Let’s get back to our essays, shall we?”

After her students returned to their assignment Olivia pulled out another quiz, but all she could see when she stared at the paper was Noah Falcon’s handsome face floating in front of her.

And there it was again—the smile that would not go away.

M
adison’s mind kept wandering to thoughts of Jason while she filled napkin holders at the diner. She smiled, thinking that a few months ago she would never have believed that she would be going on a date to a high school baseball game, much less looking forward to it. But then again, it wasn’t so much where she was going as who she was going with. She glanced at the clock and sighed. Time seemed to be crawling at a snail’s pace. The lunch rush was well over, and the dinner crowd would be small since the Cricket Creek Tigers were playing a home game.

When the bell on the door jingled, she looked up from her task. “Well, hello, Mr. Lawson.”

“Hi, there, Madison.”

Madison smiled when Owen Lawson walked to the front counter and sat down. “What brings you here this time of day?”

“I trimmed some trees and bushes over at the library, but I worked through lunch so I could go to the game. Olivia reminded me that the Tigers are playing Morgan County. I try to make as many home games as I can.”

“Good for you. Sweet tea?”

“Yes, please. I’m parched. What are you doin’ workin’ here this afternoon? Don’t you have enough to do with the play coming up?”

“I’m filling in for my mother. She has a rare afternoon off for some retail therapy.”

“Retail therapy?”

Madison grinned. “Shopping, but Mom will relieve me so I can go to the baseball game too. Apparently it’s the popular thing to do.”

“In Cricket Creek it’s still our favorite pastime,” he said with a ghost of a grin. “Nice of you to cover for her. I know how busy you’ve been. She raised you right.”

Madison inclined her head. “Thank you, Mr. Lawson. I got a good start here in Cricket Creek,” she acknowledged, but then she leaned in close and said, “Mom sure did have her work cut out for her, but we were lucky to have Aunt Myra help us out. Speaking of, are you here for Aunt Myra’s famous meat loaf special?”

Just as she spoke those words, Aunt Myra breezed in through the double doors with a tray laden with salt and pepper shakers. “I think you mean ‘
famous
Myra’s meat loaf.’ That’s how I told Jessica to put it on the new menu. I think it should have my picture by it too.”

Madison came back with, “You’re a legend in your own mind.”

“Uh, I think you meant ‘infamous,’ Myra,” Owen quipped with dry humor. Like his daughter, he had a quiet, funny way about him without trying. But there was an edge of sadness around his mouth that tugged at Madison’s heart.

“Oh, go on with ya,” Myra said with a wave of her hand, but Madison noticed that color was high in her aunt’s cheeks and she had to hide her smile. This was good stuff.

“Would you start me off with a tossed salad too?” Owen requested. “With Olivia rehearsing every night she hasn’t been bringing me her leftovers and my diet has suffered sorely. ’Course, I should learn to cook for myself,” he added, but then he shrugged.

“But if you cooked we wouldn’t have you in here as often,” Madison commented, reaching over to pat his hand. Owen Lawson was one of the nicest men she knew, but it sure was hard to coax a smile out of him.

“True enough. And the food don’t get any better.”

“Doesn’t,” Myra corrected from where she was busy setting out the salt and pepper shakers.

“Who are you, the grammar police?” Madison called to her aunt. She rolled her eyes at Owen and tried to squeeze a smile out of him.

“That’s Olivia’s job,” Owen said. “Sometimes I say ‘ain’t’ just to get her goin’.” He glanced over at Myra, who was concentrating on her task. “Myra’s meat loaf is one of my favorites, but your mama sure does have some really good fancy fixin’s. She talked me into trying that chicken something or other . . .”

“Chicken cordon bleu?”

Owen snapped his fingers. “That was it.”

“Did you like it?” Madison asked with interest. Her mother was worried that some of the regulars would balk at menu changes.

Owen nodded. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t think I would, but it was real tasty. I’m sure this place will be hoppin’ after the renovations are complete. Draw in a fancy-pants crowd but keep the regulars as well.” He tapped his temple. “Smart thinkin’. And Jason sure does a bang-up job.”

“He certainly does,” Madison acknowledged with a smile. She thought to herself that Owen Lawson was a ruggedly handsome man with his jet-black hair threaded with silver. His light blue eyes were accentuated by a deep tan, and she admired the way his white shirt stretched across his wide shoulders. Yeah, he was pretty darn ripped for an older dude, but she guessed that his lawn care business kept him fit. Madison knew that her aunt Myra was sweet on him and got all aflutter whenever he came in, but disguised it with a sassy attitude. Maybe it was Olivia rubbing off on her, but Madison wondered if there would ever be a chance of Aunt Myra and Owen Lawson hooking up. She angled her head, thinking it would do both of them a world of good. “The renovations should be done by the opening of the play. Jason is working overtime to make it happen.”

“Is he here now?”

Madison shook her head. “He was laying tile earlier. But now he’s over at the community center finishing up the sets.”

“He’s a hard worker, that one,” Owen commented in his quiet way, lifting his glass of tea for a sip, but then he paused and frowned. He pulled out a sprig of green and held it up. “What the devil is this?” he asked, catching Myra’s attention.

“That would be a sprig of mint,” Myra told him in a voice that suggested no argument. “Put it right back in there and take a swig before you go complaining.”

“I wasn’t complaining, Myra. Just askin’. Never had anything green stickin’ out of my tea here before tonight.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“And a last,” he commented and placed the mint on his napkin.

Uh-oh.
Madison stood back and watched her aunt sashay over and pick up the sprig. “We’re throwing in classy touches here and there in preparation for Wine and Diner. The mint, I will have you know, is in honor of the upcoming Kentucky Derby. You might just enjoy it, Owen.” She shoved the mint in his direction.

“Maybe I would if it was a mint julep instead of sweet tea. Now that’s Derby Day.” He winked at Madison.

“Now you’re talking, Mr. Lawson.”

Myra shook her head. “We don’t have our liquor license yet, so I can’t make you one.” She propped one hand on her slim hip and said, “I do fully admit, though, that I can make one kick-ass mint julep with some single-barrel bourbon. But whatever. Quit being as stubborn as a mule and try the mint in your tea.”

“Me stubborn?” Owen put his palms on the counter and leaned forward. “That’s like the pot callin’ the kettle black.”

“I’m not at all stubborn,” Myra argued stubbornly, causing Madison to hide her snort behind a cough. When her aunt glanced her way, she concentrated on wiping down the already clean counter.

“Really, now?” Owen shook his head slowly. “Have you already been hitting some of that Wild Turkey?”

“I prefer smooth twelve-year-old Weller. Turkey has too much bite for me. But to answer your question, no, I have not,” she said with a flip of her braid and a jingle of her hoop earrings. “Not that it isn’t a pretty darned good idea, now that you’ve planted that seed in my brain, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Owen countered with an edge of humor, and yet he failed to smile.

“Well . . .” Madison began, deciding that she needed to step in, “Aunt Myra, why don’t you knock off early? Head over to Sully’s and ask Pete to make a couple of mint juleps for you and Mr. Lawson.” She suggested in the same innocent voice that Olivia used when she was in matchmaking mode. “I just bet he makes a good one.”

Myra put her hand to her chest. “Sugar pie, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon.”

Madison gave her a wide-eyed look. “Since when do you follow the rules?”

“I . . .” Myra sputtered, at a rare loss for words.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Owen answered in a deadpan tone that had Madison laughing.

“Just what are you sayin’, Owen?” Myra asked with a hint of a challenge. “Surely you’re not thinkin’ of sippin’ on a mint julep in the middle of the afternoon?”

Madison held her breath and waited.

“Well?” Owen picked up the sprig of mint and studied it. “What if I was?” His blue eyes suddenly lifted and zoned in on Myra, who seemed frozen in her tracks.

Ask her to join you,
Madison shouted in her head. She wished she could telepathically send the message to Owen but thought she had a better chance of bending the spoon in her hand. Ugh! “We have plenty of mint,” Madison offered brightly. She reached beneath the counter and held up a bunch.

Myra glanced at the mint and then back at Owen.

“Well?” he persisted. “What do you think?”

Madison barely refrained from pounding her fist in her palm.
So close, Owen . . . Go for it, dude!

“I think you’ve taken leave of your senses,” Myra finally sputtered.

“Asking Pete Sully to make me a mint julep? Yep, I do believe you’re right.” He arched one dark eyebrow. “So, you wouldn’t join me?”

“Of course I would. I never claimed to have any sense. Welcome to the dark side, Owen Lawson,” Myra replied with a big grin.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I think.” He tossed the silly sprig into his tea and started to lift the glass to his mouth but then set it down with a thump.

And then he laughed.

At first it was simply a small, rusty chuckle, but then it turned into a deep belly laugh that shook Owen’s shoulders and had him clinging to the counter for support. Myra’s tinkling laughter joined his guffaws. “Oh . . . my.” Owen slapped his leg and looked so carefree and happy that Madison put her hand over her mouth and had to turn around so as not to show her tears. No one ever spoke of it, but Madison knew that his wife had left him with a young daughter to raise on his own and she had heard Aunt Myra say that he had never complained. She headed to the kitchen for the meat loaf before they could see her emotions get the better of her. No wonder Olivia liked setting people up. It was so satisfying!

When she reentered the dining room, Myra and Owen were still laughing. She set his food in front of him, but he barely noticed.

When he came up for a breath Myra said, “So you like the dark side? Sweet!”

Her comment had him laughing again. “Apparently.”

“So are we on?” Myra asked in a shy tone that Madison had never before heard from her feisty aunt.

“Soon as I get done eating famous Myra’s meat loaf,” he answered, taking a bite of his salad.

“Well, then, eat up.” She shooed him with her fingers.

“You always this bossy?”

“Yes.”

“Aunt Myra, why don’t you go on upstairs and freshen up? I’ll hold the fort. That way Owen can enjoy his food without you hounding him.”

“Good idea,” Owen teased and he tucked into his mashed potatoes.

“Whatever,” Myra answered, but Madison could see the fluttery feminine excitement in her aunt’s eyes. She wanted to grab her and hug her hard. It occurred to Madison that her mother and her aunt had worked so hard to make her life special, but not without sacrifice, and she suddenly wanted to burst into noisy tears. She braced herself against the counter and swallowed hard as she watched her aunt exit the room and head up to the modest but comfortable apartment above the diner that had been her home for so many years. And then she felt a warm, callused hand fold over hers.

She turned to Owen with tearful eyes. “You know, my life wasn’t traditional in any sense of the word, but I sure am lucky.” When she blinked at him, he squeezed her hand.

“Love comes in all shapes and forms,” she said, “and one isn’t better than the other. I think we all lose sight of that sometimes.”

“Madison, you have quite a bit of insight for one so young.”