The crush of people surrounding Chase pressed in. The TV reporter got jostled in the pack and stumbled. Chase caught her with a powerful arm.
The supermodel didn’t seem impressed with Chase’s chivalry. She looked as if she’d just eaten a slice of lemon pie—minus the sugar.
“Careful there,” Chase said to the reporter. The reporter fixed him with a huge, beaming smile. Chase smiled back at the woman as she regained her balance.
Yep, Jess thought, he definitely still has it.
“Chase always did love the spotlight,” Jess said. Glancing over at her son, she didn’t miss how Wes was also glued to the coverage of one of his favorite sports heroes.
“Okay, guys, no more questions.” Chase was able, somehow, to exit gracefully from the throng of press.
Nina leered at the screen a little. “He still looks great.”
Jessica shook her head, wondering why she was giving old-news Chase Taynor any headspace when she should be worried about the slump in the diner’s business. She surveyed the near-empty place.
“Empty restaurant, staff glued to the TV.” No one seemed to hear her except Wes. She smiled at him, pointing to his lunchbox and backpack. “Wesley, hon, let’s get that order of milk to go. Come on. Time for baseball practice.”
Wesley gathered his things, Jessica tossed off her apron, and the pair of them strolled out of the diner, leaving Cal to watch the rest of the news and Nina still fiddling with her wonky new glasses. Once outside, they headed to their car, which Jess knew had seen better days. Wesley pointed to a colorful sign announcing the upcoming Spring Fling festival.
“Hey, Mom, look! That’s a new sign. We should drive around town and see where else they put them up.”
Jess narrowed her eyes at him. “That has been up all week.”
Wesley said, “Are you sure it’s okay for you to leave early?” He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the diner. There could have been a mad afternoon stampede for pie and coffee, and it still wouldn’t have convinced Jess that Wes’s real concern was for the employees who were holding down the fort while they went to practice.
Jessica shrugged. “Like you said, I own the place.”
“Great! How about some laser tag? There’s that new place that opened up off the highway.”
She shook her head. Not this again. “How about baseball practice and then homework time?”
“But, Mom, I can’t practice today.”
She opened his car door, and he climbed into the passenger’s seat, buckling his seatbelt with a huff.
Jessica said tenderly, “And what is it this time?”
Wesley said, “Batter’s elbow?”
She clicked her tongue reproachfully. “I may not know baseball, kiddo, but I know that isn’t a thing. Let’s go.”
Maybe Wes wasn’t thrilled about practice because she wasn’t exactly the best coach. She was doing her best, but sports weren’t her forte. Chase Taynor may be losing sleep over his future big-league contracts, but all Jessica was worried about was helping Wesley learn how to actually hit a ball.
Chapter 2
The crack of a bat hitting a ball echoed through the park. Disappointingly, it wasn’t Wesley who had hit that ball—rather, the solid thwack had been the triumph of some other kid playing close by. A group of parents watching cheered, and Jess tried to ignore the smiling, eager dads who pressed their faces to the chain link fence and offered tips to the team of children. She also tried to ignore the sign that hung over the field, emblazoned with the name she’d been attempting to push out of her mind ever since that distracting news report.
Chase Taynor Field, my tail end, she thought. He’d barely even set foot back in the town where they’d named a whole public sports park after him, and he’d certainly never looked her up if he had.
Not that she ever thought about that. Nope, not at all.
Jessica stood on the pitcher’s mound, preparing. “Are you ready?” she asked Wes.
Wes nodded, and Jess sent a wobbling pitch his way. She waited until the ball neared what she thought was the sweet spot, and then she shouted, “And…swing!”
Wesley swung and missed, big time. Jessica frowned.
Holding up a finger, she signaled for Wes to wait. “Hang on a sec, honey. I think I may need to adjust my technique. Let me see.”
She dug her phone out of her pocket and loaded up the mobile coaching app that she’d been studying. She peeked down at her iPhone and then back up at Wesley. He looked as though his patience was about as strong as her coaching.
“Okay, easy does it. So, what you need to do is”—she scrolled down—“choke up on the bat.”
Wesley sighed and rolled his eyes. The eye rolling was becoming a major day-to-day occurrence, something that Jess was not a huge fan of.
“Like some kid on the internet?” he muttered.
Jessica, ignoring his attitude, served up another gentle pitch. Wesley swung and missed. There were muffled snickers from the group who practiced near them. The kids in the group had paused in their game to gawk at Jess and Wesley.
One of them faux whispered loudly, “Look, his mom is teaching him!”
The group burst into juvenile laughter.
His face flushed with embarrassment, Wesley said, “I’m gonna go get some water.”
He jogged off the field and moped to the water fountain. Jessica gathered up their baseball gear, shot a dirty look at the group—who all quieted almost immediately—and started to haul everything toward the car.
On the way, she spotted Mayor Fletcher walking his dog. The friendly older man changed course slightly and came over to Jess. In his sixties and well-liked around town, he was one of Jess’s remaining regulars at the diner. His wife had recently put him on a diet, and he’d sworn to Jess that he would strictly be ordering from the healthiest options on the menu. But he still snuck a sweet treat in after lunch every once in a while. In fact, her baked goods were some of her best sellers lately and something she’d been experimenting with in her ever-growing free time.
“Hey, Jess,” Mayor Fletcher said. “How’s practice going?”
Jessica squinted over at Wes, who had finished dawdling at the water fountain and was now crouched down at the edge of the field, inspecting the toe of his baseball cleats.
“Truthfully, Mayor, not great,” she admitted. “Wesley’s team has a big game coming up soon. But he’s thinking of quitting baseball for good.”
The mayor said, “Well, maybe baseball’s just not Wesley’s sport.”
Jessica sighed. “What other sport is there in this town? Wesley’s dad gave him the baseball bug but not the training.”
He tutted sympathetically. “And how is Wesley’s dad? Davis is off in California, I hear.”
Jessica was practiced at not reacting to the mention of Davis’s name. It was a small town, and folks were notoriously cavalier about what was off-limits—personal business not being on the short list. Mayor Fletcher wasn’t the type to gossip, and Jess fought back the bitter urge to bad-mouth her irresponsible ex, knowing that the mayor was just making conversation.
She could do that, push down the anger—the anger and the pang of hurt that still surprised her whenever anyone mentioned Wes’s