Page 37 of Mom Ball

“He’s not . . .” I shake my head.

She winks, and my face heats up. Then she rushes inside before I can protest.

I’m the last one inside, except for Georgia. She had some trouble rolling the golf bag down the hill. I wait on her to be polite and help her drag it over the threshold.

Timothy waves at me from the batting cage. I wave back and scan the area. Even though there are ten different families in here now, I still have jitters since I’m in Nate territory.

Families.

That word alone makes me more nervous. Technically my family is here too, but neither of them know they’re family.

Within five minutes, Nate has the boys at three different stations. Ethan is running one and Morgan another, while he mans the third.

For the first time, I appreciate him as a baseball coach. Until today, I’ve looked at him as a baseball player. As someone who wanted to be a teacher for most of my life, I can sense he has a real knack for it.

The kids rotate through the stations. I make it a point to talk to all the parents and welcome everyone. I’m still much more suited for the role of cheerleader than anything to do with baseball.

An hour later, I’m helping Georgia pick up balls scattered across the floor. I mindlessly reach for one in the corner and a hand falls on mine. My eyes lift to Nate. He grins, and I drop my gaze to our hands.

I curl my fingers around the ball. His hand slips away when I lift mine. “Here,” I say.

“Thanks.” He takes the ball, causing our hands to touch again.

This time I’m sure it’s intentional because he takes his dear time removing his hand. I clear my throat and stand. “Thanks for...” I gesture around at everyone.

“You’re welcome.” He smirks at Morgan talking to the parents, then narrows his eyes. “What’s up with the kid in the cape?”

“His mom mentioned something like Quidditch.”

“Ah, Harry Potter.”

I laugh. “I forgot you’re a fan.”

“Only of the books and movies. Not the sport or wardrobe.” He nods toward the boy. “But I can work with that now that I know.”

Some of the people exit the building, including Morgan. She must have officially ended practice. I attempt to leave, but my feet won’t budge. Nate isn’t leaving either.

“So I can pay you for this.”

He lifts one brow.

“For using your facilities.”

He laughs. My face warms. When there’s awkward silence, I tend to try and say something helpful or kind.

“Y’all can use this place anytime.”

“I know you said Timothy could come, but a whole team and all these parents is another level.”

He tosses the ball and catches it, then looks at me. “Seriously, I enjoyed tonight.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. It’s fun to teach baseball, especially when so many kids are brand new to the sport. It’s like I get to introduce them to something I love.”

My throat catches when he uses the word “love.” It’s a word I’ve heard him say countless times—mostly to me, about me.

I sway uncomfortably, as if doing so will loosen my cemented stance and allow me to walk away.

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