Chapter 4

I'd resisted contacting Jameson for as long as I could. I was focused on getting the kitchen fixed and dealing with insurance adjusters and contractors. It was a headache, but I needed to have a working kitchen so we could stop eating out so much.

It wasn't easy because Owen had been asking if he could throw with Jameson again, and football tryouts were coming up next week. By Friday, I couldn't take it anymore. So when Owen came in the door and asked if I texted Jameson yet, I said, "I can do it now."

I pulled out my phone and let out a breath. Had he already forgotten his offer to play catch with Owen? Had he already moved onto someone else who didn't have a kid or was in a less complicated situation?

Any chance you have time to throw a ball with Owen this weekend? He has tryouts soon, and he's stressed about it.

The reply came instantly.

When were you thinking?

"When do you want to play?" I asked Owen, who'd dumped his bag on the bench by the door and kicked off his shoes.

"Now."

"I don't know if he's available, but I'll ask him." I pushed down the nerves that erupted at the thought of seeing him again.

Are you around tonight?

I am.

I can cook if you play with Owen.

Now that's a deal I can't pass up. Be there soon.

"He's on his way," I said trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach that Jameson was going to be here soon.

Owen pumped his fist in the air. "Yes."

"Do your homework," I said, reminding him out of habit.

Owen gave me a look. "We don't have homework on the weekends."

I sighed. "Then put away your clothes. I left them on your bed."

"I don't know why I have to do it. Dad has a housekeeper."

I couldn't afford a cleaner, but I didn't mention that to him. "It's good for you to put your things away. It teaches you to be responsible and self-sufficient."

I got a job when I was fifteen and saved money for school. I'd always prided myself on being independent. I wanted the same for Owen.

Owen grumbled, but he went upstairs without protesting further.

I rushed into my room to change into jeans and a nice shirt. This wasn't a date, but I didn't want to be caught in my work clothes or sweats. I wanted to look good without looking like I put any effort into it. It took a bit more time than I was anticipating. When I went downstairs, Owen was outside in the front yard throwing a ball in the air.

Again, I tried to ignore the fluttering of my stomach and the buzzing in my ears. Jameson was just a nice guy who enjoyed helping others. He wasn't interested in me. He wanted to throw a ball with my son. It was no big deal. The fact that Owen's father wouldn't do the same wasn't part of the reason why I felt so jittery and out of sorts.

I tried to focus on the options for dinner, finally pulling out noodles, marinara sauce, and meat. It was a hardy meal that Owen enjoyed, and I suspected Jameson would too. It was nothing fancy, but then again, tonight was about football.

I was straining the noodles when I heard talking in the front yard. When I peeked out the window of my office, Jameson looked good in a department-issued, navy-blue hoodie, worn jeans, and boots. He cradled the ball in his hands while he talked to Owen, probably giving him pointers.

It was a sweet moment, one I never thought I'd see. The only thing was, Jameson wasn't Owen's father.

I forced myself to focus on dinner so I wouldn't end up burning the meatballs. I might not always have time to make the fanciest recipes, but I tried to make things special when I could.

While the meatballs cooked, I got the fixings out for a salad and tossed everything into a large bowl. Our kitchen table was underwhelming, but we'd never needed room for more than me and Owen. At least you could fit four around the table if you squeezed, and we only had three tonight. I didn't need to worry about what Jameson thought of me. He was here for my son, not me.

The front door opened when I pulled the meatballs out of the oven.

"Spaghetti and meatballs?" Owen asked when he reached the kitchen.

I smiled at him. "That's right."

"Yum."

Pleasure flowed through me that my son was happy. It had nothing to do with the man standing behind him, the one that had red cheeks from the cold, and his amused eyes fixated on me. "I can't believe you cooked for me."

"I cook every night. It's nice to have more than two people to cook for." Then I looked away, because it felt like I was admitting something that was personal.

"I'm always happy to help," Jameson said with a wink as if he hadn't noticed my slip.

Owen and Jameson set the table, and I quickly dished up the noodles and meat. At the last second, I remembered to grab bowls for the salad, but the boys were already digging into the spaghetti.

"This is delicious," Jameson said between bites. "I didn't realize how hungry I was."

"I bet you worked up an appetite playing outside," I said.

Jameson nodded as he chewed, then swallowed. "Owen kept me running out there. He's quick."

"He has tryouts coming up, and he's worried about his odds," I admitted.

Owen shook his head. "Mom. Don't."

My forehead wrinkled. "That's why Jameson is here. To help you."

"I told Owen that he should start a workout regimen. It's perfectly safe for him to lift weights as long as he uses good form and doesn't overdo it."

"Do you really think it's necessary?" I hadn't thought of anything beyond working on his football skills: passing and catching.

"He's at that age where it will make a difference. Besides, it never hurts to take care of your body."

That made me wonder how well Jameson took care of his body. He'd taken his sweatshirt off outside, and I could see the outline of muscles in his arms, and the hint of a flat stomach through his T-shirt. I wondered if his abs were well defined. I had the sudden urge to push up his shirt and trace the muscles with my fingers, then my tongue.

My face heated. I couldn't remember the last time I had such a visceral reaction to someone. It must be because the divorce had been final for a while, and my body was ready to start dating again. I told myself I'd have the same reaction to anyone. Jameson wasn't special.

Besides, I was suspicious that he was younger than me. It was either that, or I felt older than my age since I had a middle-school-aged child. I'd met Eric in college, he was a senior and I was a freshman. We'd gotten pregnant before the end of my freshman year. We'd married and moved in together. It was hard, but I managed to finish school.

"Do you have suggestions on what to do? I wouldn't know where to start." I asked as I moved the lettuce around my bowl.

"I can take him to the gym and show him around."

"Couldn't he do some things here?" I asked, nervous about what a gym membership would entail.

"He could get some dumbbells, but the gym will have more. I looked into one nearby, and they have a student membership. It's cheap." Jameson mentioned a figure, and I nodded. It wasn't much more than the cost of a subscription channel on TV. I could swing that if it meant that Owen would be more prepared for sports.

Owen finished his meal and reached for seconds.

"He's a growing boy. He needs to start thinking about eating food that will give him energy and exercising his body so that it works for him."

"Yeah, Mom. I'm a growing boy," Owen said with his mouth full of meatball.

"Please close your mouth when you're eating," I reminded him, earning an eyeroll. "And I've noticed that." My grocery bill had exploded in the last year. It was like his stomach was a bottomless pit, and there was no hope of ever filling it.

"Homework is just as important. You can't go to practice or games if you're neglecting your schoolwork."

Owen raised a brow. "Now you sound like Mom."

Jameson grimaced. "Any good coach will tell you the same thing. School comes first. Sports are fun, and they can teach you a lot of things, including mindset and discipline. But the most important thing you'll learn is how to juggle your schoolwork with your sports schedule."

"I can do it," Owen insisted.

"He hasn't made the team yet. That's why we asked you to come over. He's not sure what to expect. He's played sporadically over the years."

"I can help with that. I'll come over a few times a week until tryouts. How does that sound?"

"Yes," Owen said at the same time I said, "We can't ask you to do that."

Jameson's expression was soft, like he'd anticipated my protest. "You didn't. I offered."

"Come on, Mom. He wants to help me."

"Are you sure?" I asked Jameson.

"Absolutely. I love football. I have two nieces, one who I don't see as much as I'd like and another that's too young for sports. I'm happy to help."

"If you're sure," I said, still feeling uncertain and confused about why this single man would want to sign up to help a kid practice football. Especially when Owen's own father couldn't find the time.

"I'm positive. Especially if you continue to cook for me." Jameson flashed a smile that had my insides heating up.

"That won't be a problem. I'm grateful that you're here." I felt like I was failing Owen. He wanted things that I couldn't provide for him. There was a facility that offered lessons, but it was private coaching and cost a hundred dollars an hour. That was something I couldn't afford. Jameson was helping me in more ways than he knew.

"It's fun. Besides, I had four brothers to play with. I can't imagine not having any."

I shook my head. "I can't imagine sharing a bathroom with four brothers."

"Yeah, my poor mother. She was always complaining about how messy we were. No matter how hard we tried, we weren't as clean as our sisters." Jameson winked at me.

"I remember you saying that your sister was a single mom. But you have another?" I asked him, curious to know more about him.

"Four brothers and two sisters. Fiona is the oldest and Daphne is the youngest."

"I can't even imagine growing up with so many siblings."

"It was great. Especially living on a tree farm. We had plenty of space to explore and run around."

"I bet that was fun." I thought I was doing a good job by living in a development where Owen had friends to play with. I couldn't even imagine growing up where there was a lot of property to roam.

"We were adventurous kids. We were always getting into something and coming home dirty. Mom would make us hose off outside."

Owen was hanging on his every word. Sometimes I felt bad that he was an only child. I just couldn't justify having more kids with Eric when he wasn't an engaged father. But I think it would have been nice for Owen to have a sibling who was close in age. Someone he could throw a ball with or even just watch TV with.

"But we were expected to work on the farm. Everyone pitched in to help out. Daphne preferred the kitchen. She loved baking. Now she owns her own bakery. She's the one who sells the minipies around town."

"Oh, I've grabbed one of those on my way home from the store. They're so good." They were the perfect cure when you needed a pie fix but couldn't eat an entire one.

"Daphne recently got that deal with the local grocery stores. She's excited about the possibilities."

"That's wonderful."

"Do you think I could see the farm?" Owen asked.

Jameson nodded. "Just let me know when you want to come out. I'll give you the whole experience."

There was something about the way he said give me the whole experience that felt like he was talking about more than cutting down a tree, but there was no way that was possible. Not with my son sitting at the table with us. I was so desperate for male attention; I was looking for things that weren't there.

Jameson was just being nice. I was positive he already had a girlfriend or would be hooking up with someone when he hit the bar later tonight.

I stood to clear the table. I didn't want Jameson to feel like he had to spend the entire evening with us. And I was surprised when Jameson stood to help. "Clear your dishes. Then we can throw some more."

Owen actually did it without any grumbling. It was nice to see him respond favorably to a male in the house.

"When they were done helping with the dishes, I grabbed a washcloth and cleaned the table. Owen was already outside, and Jameson paused in the doorway. "When you're done, come outside with us."

"Okay," I said, unsure why he would need me to be there. But I wanted to see them interact without being caught sneaking a peek through the window.

When I was finished, I slipped on my white sneakers and headed outside to the porch. I brought water bottles that I set on the railing for them.

Jameson was explaining a formation to him, and Owen was listening intently.

When Jameson saw me, he said, "Come out here. We need another body."

"I don't like the sound of that." I cautiously stood and made my way to them.

"I'm going to throw to Owen, and you're going to be D."

"You want me to be defense?" I knew enough about football to understand the reference.

Jameson grinned down at me. "It will be fun. You have to cover him so it's hard for him to catch the pass. Having someone in the way is enough to throw the receiver off-balance. This will be good practice for him."

"There won't be any tackling?" I asked him, still nervous.

Jameson winked. "Not today."

Before I could ask what he meant by that, he'd placed a hand on my shoulder and moved me in front of Owen. "Now when he runs, you follow him. Have you played any sports?"

I was a little distracted because his hand was still on my shoulder. "I played basketball."

Jameson nodded. "It's the same concept as man-to-man defense."

Jameson's hand dropped away, and he stepped back, the ball in his right hand. He slapped the ball once, and Owen took off. I was feeling every bit of my age when I raced to keep up with my son. I felt a little ridiculous, but the basics of defense came back to me, and I raised my hands just as Jameson let loose with the ball.

When I batted it down, I raised my hands in the air. "Yes." Then I did a little dance. "Did you see that?"

Jameson was watching me intently. Finally, he cleared his throat. "That was good. Do it exactly like that."

Each time, I blocked the pass, I did a little dance. Even Owen cracked a smile. The more we practiced, the better Owen got at eluding me.

We ran through it several more times until l was out of breath, and we stopped to drink some water. Owen sat on the grass, his knees bent, and Jameson sat on the porch steps.

The sun was starting to set.

Jameson stood. "I should probably head home so you can take a shower and get to bed."

For once, Owen didn't grumble about someone telling him to shower. "Thanks for playing with me."

"It was fun," Jameson said as Owen went inside and closed the door.

"I can't thank you enough for helping him. I can play catch, but that's about it. I don't know much about football."

Jameson leaned a shoulder on the column of the railing. "I told you I'm happy to help."

I stiffened when I remembered that Jameson probably had someone to go home to or friends to meet. "I don't want to keep you any longer. I'm sure you have places to be."

Jameson's eyes flashed with amusement. "Where do you think I'd go?"

"A bar. A hot date?" I asked, shifting on my feet.

"I don't go out to the bars very often unless it's with my coworkers. And even then, it's not my favorite thing to do. I enjoy working out and playing basketball with friends at the station."

"You're young. I don't want to occupy all your time."

"You're not. I'd tell you if I had something else to do." Jameson drained his water bottle.

That had me wondering what else he did in his spare time.

"And how young do you think I am?" Jameson set his bottle on the table next to me.

"Younger than me. I'm thirty-one."

"I'm twenty-seven. I hardly call that young."

I shouldn't have been talking about our ages. Because this wasn't a date. We weren't getting to know each other. But it felt like something.

"I enjoyed dinner. Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said softly, my heart thudding.

"I can take Owen to the gym tomorrow to check it out if that's okay with you."

I moved to follow him to his truck. "He'd love that, and we don't have anything scheduled tomorrow."

"Great. I'll be by at nine."

I raised a brow. "I'll make sure he's awake."

"If Owen is serious about playing sports, there's a certain amount of discipline that comes with it. The determination to work out often, to improve and get better. He's already interested in practicing, and that's great. But he needs to get stronger."

"Are you sure it's necessary to work out at his age?" I assumed that wouldn't come until later. Maybe high school.

When we reached his truck, Jameson turned to face me. "It will give him confidence. That's the best thing you can give a kid his age. And it has the added bonus of being good for his health. You might want to buy more food though. It's only going to increase his appetite."

I sighed. "I'm not sure I'll survive that."

"I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night." He opened his truck and climbed inside.

I tried not to think about how sexy he looked in those jeans or how they hugged his ass. Jameson glanced at me through the window, and as if he'd caught me ogling him, a smile spread over his face, and he winked at me.

Jameson was dangerous because he knew the effect he had on women. The problem was, I wasn't special or different. He was just a charming man, and I needed to keep my distance if I was going to avoid falling for him.