Page 21 of The Swap Masquerade

“Thanks.” I reached for the cup he held out to me and took a sip, touched that he’d remembered my drink preference. It proved to me he had been paying attention to what I said and damn, if that didn’t make me feel good. “Mmm. That’s delicious.”

“The secret is to add a splash of vanilla creamer to it. Takes any bitterness out of the tea. Pumpkin spice creamer is my personal favorite, but it’s a seasonal thing.”

I grinned at him. “I’ll have to give that a try next fall.”

“I see you brought your own supplies this time.” He gestured toward my toolbelt.

I shrugged. “Yeah. It’s easier than trying to find a hammer around here when you need it.”

“True enough. You ready to get started?”

I peered up at the house. “Yeah. It’s really coming along, isn’t it?”

Professor Holt smiled. “It sure is. We’re going to try and finish getting the walls up today and then we can start on the roof. Soon, there will be someone living here. They’ll have a home and a fresh start, thanks to you and so many other volunteers. That’s something to be proud of.”

I felt my face flush under his praise. “Well, I probably never would have thought to do something like this if it hadn’t been for you, so thanks for the opportunity.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see if you still feel like thanking me after you’ve hung about fifty sheets of plywood.” He laughed as he clapped a hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his hand soaked through my cotton shirt and sent a shiver skittering down my spine.

I’d spent most of my life keeping a proper distance between myself and other guys. I was careful to avoid looking at anyone in the locker room too long, I never sat too close to any of my teammates on the bus. Hell, I didn’t even slap other players on the butt the way most athletes tended to do or show any sort of emotion when they did it to me, all for fear of having my actions interpreted the wrong way. Yet somehow, over the past few weeks, I’d managed to meet two different men who had broken through my barriers and could set my heart to racing with even the most casual of touches.

The next few hours flew by as we worked together, hammering plywood sheathing to the frame of the house. It was tiring work, our muscles straining as we lifted the heavy sheets and held them in place, but by the time we finally stopped for lunch, we’d made significant progress.

After a quick clean up, we headed over to where one of the local churches had set up tables full of delicious, homemade food. Fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, and about twenty different salads and casseroles, not to mention all the pies and cakes they’d brought with them. Our plates were piled high by the time we walked over and sat down under a shady tree.

“Man, nobody cooks like church women.” I watched as he took a bite of macaroni then sighed happily.

“I shouldn’t be eating so many carbs. Coach would kill me if he saw this plate, but I couldn’t help myself. It all looked so good.”

“Eh, you’re young. Your body will bounce back quick enough. It’s not until you get to be around my age that you have to worry about watching your figure,” he joked.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You look amazing.” I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth as I realized what I’d said. My eyes darted to his. He was looking back at me with a thoughtful look on his face. “Uh, I only meant you look amazing for an old guy. What are you? Like forty-something?”

The professor’s jaw dropped, pretending to be wounded by my teasing. “I beg your pardon. I’m only thirty-four.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Seriously? I guess you must look older because of all the gray hairs.”

Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face despite the horrified expression on his, but when he set his plate down, yanked his phone out of his pocket, and began checking his hair in the camera, I lost it. I doubled over with laughter then laughed even harder when he turned to me with a scowl, realizing I’d only been kidding.

He put his phone down and picked up his plate again, pointing his fork at me. “Hahaha! Laugh it up, but one day it’ll be you. Only you’ll probably go bald long before you see any gray hairs since you’re always wearing those ballcaps.”

“Whatever,” I chuckled as I turned my attention back to my lunch. A few minutes later, I reached up and jerked my ballcap off. When I glanced up, he was staring at me with a knowing grin. “Shut up,” I grumbled.

His laughter was deep, rumbling up from his chest. The sound of it did crazy things to my pulse. He wasn’t like other professors, most of whom would never be caught joking around with one of their students. But Professor Holt was different. He was fun and so easy to talk to, like a regular guy. The more time I spent with him, the better I liked him.

Already, I felt more comfortable around him than I did my teammates who I’d known for years. Probably because with the professor, I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. I didn’t have to be Elliott the star pitcher, or “Stoner” the big man on campus. I could just be me, Elliott Stone, future architect, and possible world traveler.

“So, how’s your season going?”

I swallowed my bite of food before answering. “Pretty good, so far. We have a strong team, and we work well together. We won our first two games, but I expect we’ll go all the way again this year.” The practiced words carried a small edge to them as they tumbled out of my mouth because it was the same rote answer I gave everyone: journalists, classmates, the guy who changed the oil in my car, and of course, my father. All anyone ever asked me was how the season was going. I often wondered if they’d bother to speak to me at all if it weren’t for baseball. Like that was the only part of me that interested them.

The professor had stopped eating and was staring at me, a small frown marring his stunning features. Several long moments passed before he spoke. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“Okay,” I responded cautiously.

“Do you enjoy it? Baseball, I mean. Is it fun for you?” I must have looked like a deer in the headlights because he held a hand up. “You’re allowed to tell me to mind my own business if you don’t want to answer, or if I’m out of line. There was just something in your voice…it made me wonder.”

Maybe it was the fact that he’d seen something in me no one else had ever bothered to see, or maybe it was simply because I was so tired of pretending, but the next thing I knew, words were spilling out of my mouth. Words I’d never shared with another living soul. “No. No, I don’t. I used to. You know, when I was a kid. My dad and I would play catch in the back yard on Saturdays. Sometimes he would even take me to the field where he and his firemen buddies played, and he’d let me run the bases. I had a great coach for my first year of T-ball and my best friend at the time, Timmy, was on the same team. After every game, my parents would take the two of us to get ice cream whether we’d won or lost.” I smiled at the memory, but the smile faded as I went on.

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