Page 114 of Holding On To Good

Finally, Urban stepped back and picked up his equipment bag.

Willow ducked her head, averted her gaze, back to pretending to be enthralled by her tiny screen. Pretending she didn’t know the exact moment he headed toward her. Pretending she wasn’t weak with relief he was walking away from his past, that he was coming to her.

“Hey,” Urban said, stopping a few feet from her and she lifted her.

“Hi.” She tucked her phone into her pocket and forced herself to smile at him. She gave him a we’re-just-a-couple-of-buddies swat on the arm. “Good game, Coach.”

He studied her, gaze skimming her features in a way he never used to. “We lost.”

“If you had fun,” she told him solemnly, “you won.”

He set the bag on the ground. “Winning’s more fun. Ask anyone.”

“Wow. The pep talks you give the team must be super inspirational.”

Not that he’d shown any signs of his deeply ingrained competitive streak to the kids. He was a great coach—knowledgeable and patient, kind and encouraging and yes, even fun.

“Ian had a good hit in the third inning,” she said.

“He got a piece of it,” Urban murmured, still staring at her, his thoughts obviously elsewhere and not on their current, extremely scintillating conversation.

It was making her nervous as hell, that look. As if he was trying to figure something out. Figure her out. Her thoughts and secrets.

And that wouldn’t do. Hadn’t she shared enough with this man? Her friendship and history? Her life and business? He couldn’t have any more.

The last time she’d given him her secrets, he broke her heart.

“Anyway,” she said, all cheery and bright and fake as can be. “I’d better get going. I’m meeting Hayden for lunch.”

She wasn’t meeting her for another hour—Hayden didn’t get up before noon, two weekends ago helping Willow through her hangover being the exception—and the Mexican restaurant was only a ten-minute drive from the park, but that was neither here nor there.

There was no room for technicalities when it came to emotional survival.

“I’ll see you Monday,” she said.

“Don’t you want to know what Miranda and I were talking about?”

“I’ve decided to curb any and all inquisitiveness into areas that are none of my concern.”

His mouth quirked, all cocky and arrogant. “That so?”

“Absolutely.”

He didn’t thank her. Didn’t applaud her restraint.

He stood there, that half smile on his face, as if patiently waiting for her to break.

Which she did. But she’d like it noted it took a good thirty seconds.

“If I was to indulge in a bit of nosiness,” she said, “and inject myself into your…” She couldn’t get the word romantic out so she settled on, “… personal life, I would gently remind you that Miranda cheated on you, left you for another man and smashed your heart into a million pieces.”

“Miranda didn’t—”

“—I would also tell you that although she’s here now, without her husband, she’s still married. For all you know this entire trip to Mount Laurel might be some game she’s playing to get Matt’s attention.”

“Might be,” Urban conceded. “But I don’t think it is. She asked me to help get her son on a baseball team.”

Only one thing that could mean.

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