Playing For Keeps (6 page)

“Are you kidding? Your mama cried when he
left.”

Natives of Georgia, his parents resided in
Buckland every summer and fall to be with Mike and watch him play
football and then coach the team. Two years ago, he’d bought them a
nice little patio home near the stadium. During the worst of New
York State winters, they returned to the South, where two of his
brothers lived. Logan, the oldest and technically his half-brother,
never stayed put, so they didn’t see him often. Ironically, Mike
was closest to him.

“How come Ma didn’t come with you?”

Having laid his head on Mike’s shoulder,
Tyler relaxed into his father’s hold. Mike could smell soap and
licorice. “Nana’s sick.”

“Nothing serious, is it?”

“No,” Jim said. “She sprained her ankle
jogging.” Mike’s mom was sixty going on sixteen.

“Seems to be a lot of that going around.” He
kissed Tyler’s head. “Can you stay a while, Pa?”

“I’ll have coffee, but I gotta get back. That
woman will overdo it if I’m not around to keep her down.”

Briefly, Mike wondered if Jacelyn was staying
off her sprained ankle, too.

The three Kingston men settled together in
the sunny kitchen at a scarred oak table that had come with the
partially furnished home. Warm July air drifted in through the
window; sounds from the canal—ducks quacking and an occasional boat
buzzing by—also floated in. After Mike got coffee for him and his
dad and juice for Tyler, Jim Kingston asked, “How’re things going
up here for you, son?”

Mike shrugged. “Just gettin’ my feet
wet.”

“Good. You got a lot to offer in the way of
knowledge gained through experience.”

Mike stirred his coffee. “I think so. The
Business Department chair is not a big fan of athletics,
though.”

You don’t much like us bein’ here, do
you?

No.

Jim shook his head. “What’s that got to do
with anything?”

“I love coaching, as much as I loved playing,
Pa. But I need something more.” He ruffled Tyler’s hair. “And I
gotta think about the future now.”

“Money-wise, you’re set for life.”

“Yeah, but not up here.” He tapped an index
finger on his temple. “I need a challenge. I think I’d like to do
some teaching in the Sports Studies program that’s having its
rookie year at the college.”

His pa sighed and sat back. “You always did
want to do more with your mind. Remember how the teachers at school
used to tick you off when they assumed you
couldn’t
do the
math or write those long papers?” He scowled. “Made me pretty damn
mad, too.”

“Yeah. I liked sports more than academics,
but I hated being stereotyped as a dumb jock.” Especially since his
brothers, Luke and Nick, were in Honor Society, on the debating
team and got into good colleges.

As if reading his mind, his dad said,
“Despite the other boys’ accomplishments, I never saw you as dumb,
Mikey.”

“I know, Dad. And I appreciated that as much
as the support I got from you and mom about football.”

“We loved your athletic success, and you did
decent enough in school.”

“I never really applied myself, though.”

Tyler, who had asked for paper and markers,
sat happily drawing next to Mike. “I like school, Daddy. Mrs. Shank
said I’m smart.”

“Course you are, boy. Don’t ever let anybody
convince you different.” He’d be damned if his kid suffered any
kind of negativity.

When Jim Kingston left with a promise to come
up for the opening day of camp and the parade, Mike said to Tyler,
“Wanna see your room?”

Big dark eyes filled with guarded pleasure.
“Yeah, sure.”

“How ‘bout a ride?”

Tyler nodded enthusiastically. He scrambled
onto the chair and stood. When Mike rose, too, and turned his back,
the boy hopped on. “Ugh. You’re getting big, kid.”

“Nana says I’m growing like a weed.”

Making a game of it Mike took the boy on a
tour of the small A-frame he’d rented. First they checked out the
ground floor, then Mike trundled up the curved staircase to a loft
which accommodated two bedrooms and a bath. To the right he stopped
in a doorway. He felt his son freeze. “What’s wrong, Ty?”

“This for me?”

“Yeah, I fixed it all up myself, with a
little help from somebody who’s gonna be your good buddy.” True to
his word, Kyle had come by to paint and move in furniture. Mike and
the boy had had a good time working and shooting the breeze about
football and other sports. Now
that
guy was smart Just
like his mother.

“Is that...is that my bed?”

Tyler’s openmouthed reaction was
understandable; the bed was in the shape of a football, and the
headboard actually looked like a pigskin, complete with stitching.
Mike had paid an arm and a leg for it He let the boy slide to the
floor then squatted down to face him. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, sure.” He crossed to the bed and
examined the quilt on top. “Holy cow, Daddy. All these guys are
football players.”

Mike couldn’t resist. “Check underneath the
pillow, son.”

Tyler followed instructions. “That’s
you.”

“Yep, I made the cut.” When Mike had sought
something special out on the Internet for Tyler’s covers, he’d been
surprised and pleased to find his own face on the bedding.

“Can I sit on it?” Tyler asked.

Mike placed his hand on Tyler’s shoulder.
“You can even jump on it if you want, Champ.”

The child’s smile rivaled the sun on a hot
day. “Honest?”

“Honest. Nobody’s here but you and me, so if
I say you can jump on it you can.”

It was a weak little bounce that damn near
broke Mike’s heart. The kid seemed to expect so little and took
nothing for granted. From the time he’d been Tyler’s age, Mike had
had sports to boost his self-esteem and give him high expectations
in life. He needed to help his son develop that.

Mike sat on the floor and watched Tyler
explore the room. There was a good-size closet which Mike had
filled with the boy’s summer clothes, a low window taking up the
back wall faced the canal, and the dresser was decorated with a
football lamp and a boom box. He didn’t want Tyler to have a TV in
here.

After Tyler made the rounds, he faced his
father. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Who helped you?”

“Huh?”

“You said somebody was gonna be my
buddy.”

“That I did.” He patted the floor beside him.
“Come sit here.” Tyler flopped down next to him. Close, which
tickled Mike. “Remember we discussed that I’d be busy at camp, but
I wanted you here with me?”

“Uh-huh. You
gotta teach those guys how
to catch a ball.”
Mike smiled at Tyler mimicking his
words.

“Well, I got somebody to watch you.”

“Okay.” He pointed to a crate where Mike had
stacked some toys. “Can I play with these?”

“Yeah, they’re yours.”

Tyler picked up a miniature fire track.
“What’s she like?”

Where I come from, Kyle’s a girl’s
name.
Man, Mike had almost blown it with Jacelyn. But he’d
redeemed himself Monday by taking care of her foot. He still
remembered how good she’d felt snuggled up to his chest when he’d
carried her. All soft and feminine and womanly. Not that he was
thinking along those lines about Jacelyn Ross. Well, maybe it had
crossed his mind because of the unsnap-me-please garter belt that
spiked his blood pressure when it had peeked out from her
skirt.

“Daddy?”

“It’s a he. His name is Kyle.”

“I got a boy babysitter?”

“Well, I’m hopin’ he’ll be your friend.”

“Is he nice?”

“Right nice.”

“Rummm.” Tyler took the truck across the
floor and bumped into Mike’s leg. “Oops.”

Mike smiled.

“When’ll I meet him?”

“How ‘bout today?”

“Okay.”

“Tyler, stop playin’ a minute.”

The boy obeyed immediately. Owl eyes stared
up at him.

“I promise we’ll spend time together. I just
can’t watch you all the time. Camp gets real busy, especially the
second half. And there’ll be a couple of nights when I’ll be
away.”

“I know. You gotta work.”

“I signed you up for a morning summer camp so
you’ll have kids your age to play with. Kyle’s friend Kay works at
it.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Just so we’re straight. You’re my
priority.”

“What’s that mean?”

“That I love you and you’re the most
important thing in the world to me.”

“More than football?”

Mike kissed Tyler’s head. “Yeah, Champ, more
than football.”

Drawing back, Mike fished in his pocket for
his cell phone; he found Kyle’s number in his speed dial and
punched it out. They’d arranged to get together sometime today so
Kyle could meet Tyler.

Mike wondered whether he’d get to see Kyle’s
mother, too.

o0o

“Mom?” Kyle covered the phone with his hand
as he walked out into the backyard. His dark hair and shirt were a
bit damp from the heat. “Is it okay if Coach comes over here now so
I can meet Tyler?”

Jacelyn shifted uneasily in her lawn chaise.
Stretched out with her foot elevated as she’d been ordered to do,
she looked up at her son. “Honey, you don’t have to stay with me.
You can go over to their house.”

“Nope. If I do, you’ll start walking on that
again.” He nodded to her foot. “Like you did yesterday—which is why
you’re laid up,
Mother.”

“All right.”

While he spoke into the phone, Jacelyn
privately admitted her son was right. After she’d gone into school
yesterday to meet with Lew about staffing, then put in some hours
at the Outreach office, her foot had swelled badly again. Still,
Kyle didn’t have to stay with her, and she didn’t really want to
see Mike Kingston. For one thing, she was embarrassed at having
been carried all over campus by him.

Hal had had a fit about that....

Jacelyn, what were you thinking? Do you
have any idea what it looked like?

She’d winced in embarrassment. But said
anyway,
Hal, I couldn’t walk. And no one saw us. Even if they
did, nothing was wrong with I did.

He could have gotten a wheelchair from
the infirmary instead of playing out the caveman thing.

She remembered thinking the “caveman thing”
had felt pretty good at the time...

“Mo-om.” Kyle was off the phone. “Where’d you
go?”

“No place. I’ll have to get changed if the
Kingstons are coming over.”

“You look okay.”

Glancing down, she frowned at her yellow
T-shirt and flowered capris. She’d been bored so she painted her
toenails and fingernails a bright red. “I suppose I do.”

Kyle left, saying he’d told Coach to come
around back, and he’d watch for them from has room upstairs.

Jacelyn picked up the
Cosmopolitan
magazine her friend Millie had brought her, with an admonishment to
relax for a change. Millie had even done Jacelyn’s hair in an updo,
like the cover model’s. Leafing through the pages, Jacelyn’s mind
went back to Monday.

She’d been flustered when Mike had caught a
glimpse of her garter belt and smiled with masculine interest. And
she’d been in pain, not thinking clearly, or she wouldn’t have let
him carry her halfway across campus. Then there was the encounter
with the trainer who’d checked out her foot, which was indeed just
sprained.

Gage Garrison had been flirty and fun…

“Well, this is the end of a perfect day,”
he’d said, picking up her foot and examining it. He, too, was big
and broad-shouldered, with a shock of thick gray hair and a
friendly smile. “Usually I get to check out hairy skin and stinky
feet.” His hands slid up her calf. “Hurt here?”

“No.”

He wiggled her toes. “Here?”

“A bit.”

After a few minutes, he’d declared she was
okay. “It’s sprained. Let’s ice it here, then you need to do the
same at home.” He gave her specific directions. “Stay off it for a
day or two. If you wrap it, it’ll feel better when you put weight
on it But you aren’t gonna do any dancin’ for a while,
sweetheart.”

“Oh, dear. I love to dance.”

Gage had smiled back. “So do I.”

She’d sent Kyle off to walk Kay to her car
and bring his around, and had sat in the trainer’s office and
sipped water from their fridge. Gage had wrapped her foot and he
and Mike waited with her for Kyle. It was fun listening to their
banter—so different from the teachers’ conversations at social
events.

Jacelyn focused back on
Cosmo,
which
lay open to a picture of a blond-haired man with bulging muscles.
The caption read, Why We Like Those Jocks!

Rolling her eyes, she closed the magazine and
reached down to pick up a textbook from the stack on the patio. She
was thinking of changing texts for her Macroeconomics course and
had narrowed her choice to two. When Mike arrived, she was still
reading.

“Hi,” he said easily, calling her attention
to the fence. He stood at the open back gate, dressed in a black
T-shirt with beltless jeans and sandals. He looked fit and
virile.

She sat up straighter. “Hi.”

“Kyle told us to mosey on back, that you’d
both be here.”

“Yes, I know. Come on in.”

He stepped into the yard. A small boy clung
to his leg. Mike circled his arm around Tyler’s shoulders and led
him across the grass to the patio. The child was beautiful, with
huge brown eyes and dark hair. Kyle had told her Tyler’s mother had
died recently, and her heart went out to the boy. “Who is
this?”

“This is my son, Tyler Kingston. Tyler, this
is Dr. Ross. She teaches at the college where we’re holding camp.
Her son is—”

“Hey, Coach.”

Mike turned and smiled warmly at Kyle. “Hey,
Kyle.” He glanced down. “This is Tyler. Ty, this is Kyle
Worthington.”