I couldn’t help but glance at the ceiling for a split second.
I knew this man remembered me, just as I remembered him.
“Did you hear me, Gunner?” Foster asked.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts and vicious memories. “No. Sorry, man.”
“This is Ridge Sanders. He works with me at the fire station.”
“You’re a firefighter?” I asked, stunned, and suddenly Foster’s earlier comments came back and made much more sense.
“Yeah, since that night. I had to be. Ridge was actually there that night.”
I nodded. “I remember.” I stuck out my hand. Ridge shook it and looked me in the eye with the same honesty as that night.
“It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too.”
“And this pretty little lady,” Foster said, pointing at Delilah, “is Delilah Moreland. She’s Colt’s sister and Makenna’s best friend. She makes the best—”
“Cookies,” I said, cutting him off.
“Yes!” Foster said. “Have y’all met?”
“I’m staying at the inn. We’ve run into each other.”
“And Tucker accosted him as soon as he saw him,” Delilah said.
I grinned. I liked that kid. It didn’t bother me when he came up to see me, and I liked it even more since I’d met Delilah. But she was a distraction I shouldn’t have right now. My focus needed to be on my mom and making sure that I signed a contract with the Rattlers.
I scanned Delilah from head to toe. She was in skin-tight jeans that hugged every part of her that I wished I could run my hands over. I shook my head, clearing those thoughts. She was with Foster; I couldn’t think of her that way.
“She’s single,” Foster whispered in my ear and then said more loudly, “Let me buy you a drink. Whatcha want?”
I muttered the name of a Texas beer as my gaze connected with Delilah’s. So I’d read the situation wrong. She wasn’t with him, but they were friends. It was weird the way this girl was popping up in all areas of my life.
“Want a shot of tequila, Delilah?” I asked as a grin spread across my face.
She blushed. “You’re not getting any of my secrets tonight, slugger.”
I laughed and moved to stand next to her. “I’ll keep working on it then. You said I just need to buy you some tequila. Want me to buy you a bottle?”
She chuckled and took a sip of her beer. “I’m good with this right here.”
“When did you two meet?” Colt asked as he shoved his way into the small space between us. He hadn’t lost the glare yet, and I wasn’t sure he would anytime soon.
Chapter 11
Delilah
“Why can’t I stay here? I swear I’ll help!”
Tucker collapsed onto the barstool at the kitchen island, and his head fell into his hands. He’d been like this all morning. Frazzled and frustrated that he wasn’t going to be here when Gunner was.
“Do you remember what happened the last time you decided to help me?”
Tucker’s ears turned red, and he grinned slyly before covering them up and giving me his most innocent expression. “That was an accident.”
I snorted. “Putting a handful of marshmallows in the microwave to watch them explode isn’t an accident, Tuck.”
“It was an experiment. I was learning! A hippothis!”
“Hypothesis,” I corrected.
I didn’t believe him for one second. I’d scrubbed the microwave for so long, I’d almost chucked the whole thing in the trash and gone out to buy a new one. I’d scrubbed and scrubbed until every last gooey piece of marshmallow was wiped away.
I wasn’t even using marshmallows that day. He was supposed to help me make meatloaf. What kind of meatloaf needed marshmallows?
“I won’t do that today! I’ll help! I want to be here.”
“You’re going with Uncle Colt and that’s final. You love hanging with Colt.”
“Uncle Colt can help too! Oh, man! He’s going to freak when he finds out who’s over here! Do you think Gunner will get here before him? Can I go across the street and get him? I want to surprise Uncle Colt!”
Gunner wasn’t only Tucker’s favorite baseball player, but Colt’s too. Though based on the permanent glare on his face last week at The Watering Hole, that might change. Once Colt saw Makenna and Gunner knew each other, he wasn’t a happy camper, and it got even worse when Gunner took me out to the dance floor.
I couldn’t believe Makenna knew Gunner. She was private about some parts of her past. I knew all about her childhood and most of her twenties, but there were a few years in high school that she refused to speak about. She’d tucked Tucker into his bed many nights, and it was impossible to miss Gunner’s face on the poster in his room. She’d known and she’d never said anything.
She’d been ducking my calls for the past week. Avoiding the questions I had for her.
The doorbell rang. Tucker launched himself from the barstool, and it skidded across the tile floor. “I got it! I got it! I got it!”
I heard the door bounce off the wall as he flung it open. I winced. And waited to find out which male voice I would hear first.
“Gunner!” Tucker shouted. “Come in! Mom’s in the kitchen.”
“Hey, Tucker.” I heard Gunner say. I’d only known him a few weeks, but I could hear the smile in his voice. A relieved sigh brushed through me. Gunner was the first professional baseball player Tucker had met, and I was glad Gunner hadn’t been an ass to him.
My head popped up, waiting for them to round the corner. Tucker had Gunner’s wrist in his hand as he dragged Gunner behind him. Tucker was speaking so fast I could hardly understand him, but Gunner was smiling and nodding along like he understood every word the kid was saying.
The doorbell rang again. Tucker jumped up and down. “Gunner, can you hide in the pantry?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Do what now?”
“Hide in the pantry.” Tucker opened the door and waited for Gunner to walk inside. Gunner looked at me, and I shrugged while chuckling.
Gunner walked into the pantry. “How long do I have to stay in here?”
“Just for a minute! I’m getting my Uncle Colt. When I say ‘guess what,’ jump out!”
Tucker slammed the door closed in Gunner’s face. “It’s been a long time since I had to hide at a girl’s house,” I heard him mutter.
I clapped a hand over my mouth as I burst out laughing. Tucker and Colt rounded the corner coming into the kitchen. Tucker was practically vibrating, and I prayed that Colt wouldn’t be rude and ruin this moment for him.
“What are you laughing at?” Colt asked, looking around the kitchen, eyeing the TV, which was off, and the phone on the counter, which was facedown.
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Uncle Colt!”
“What’s up, kid? Ready to go?”
“If you could meet a baseball player or a rock star, which would you choose?”
“Ballplayer,” Colt said and grinned at his nephew. “Want to go to the park and play?”