Page 41 of Takes Two to Tango

And Henry swung.

The ball connected and went sailing... right over the fence.

The crowd erupted as her son dropped the bat to the ground and took his jog around the bases. Rayne stood and clapped as Aunt Fran unleashed the air horn yet again. No one seemed to mind this time.

Brent's eyes met hers from across the field. He mouthed, "Wow."

And just like that, Rayne knew Nellie had been very wrong. Most of Oak Stand had been very wrong. Brent wasn't a gigolo looking to get into every girl's pants. He wasn't some dumb jock with multiple passing records. He wasn't perverted, irresponsible, or callous. He wasn't what he was painted to be at all.

She didn't know exactly how she knew it. She simply did. And she wasn't ready to put to words what she knew him to be exactly. But right then, she was content to believe Brent was better than everyone had given him credit for.

But she still wanted to know about the panties. For good measure.

Her son crossed home plate and his team met him for a good old-fashioned dog pile. Brent jogged toward the dugout entrance for some knucks. Henry's smile could run the town on its wattage. He ducked his head under all the praise, but the smile stayed.

A crazy bubble of joy rose in Rayne.

"I think I want some nachos," she murmured to Aunt Frances. "Withextra jalapenos."

Aunt Fran stopped clapping and stared at her. "What did you say?"

Rayne laughed. "I'm going to get nachos. You want something?"

"You're going to let people see you eat processed cheese? This isn't Pop-Tarts in the closet. We're in public." Aunt Fran didn't meet her eyes. Instead she gave Henry a fist pump.

Rayne blinked before waving to her glowing son and mimicking Aunt Fran with the fist pump gesture. "How'd you know?"

"I found the foil wrappers. You can't fool me, Rayne Rose."

"Guess I never could," she said, grabbing her wallet from the depths of her purse and fishing out a twenty dollar bill.

Aunt Frances pushed a curl from Rayne's face. "You know, sometimes what you think is bad for you turns out to be good."

Rayne frowned. "You're not talking about Pop-Tarts or nachos, are you?"

Aunt Frances gave her a wink. "You always were a smart girl."

Rayne rolled her eyes and slid out from the bleachers. She waved to Stacy and Brandi, who'd had the foresight to bring camp chairs. She'd written them each a thank-you note for her welcome-home party, but would stop by after the game to make another personal gesture of appreciation, even if she didn't care for them much. Being nice meant keeping their boys from pestering Henry. She looked out at the field of play and caught Brent's glance as the new batter stepped to the plate. He winked.

The gesture made her tummy flutter, and she wondered if they sold candy bars in the concession stand.

BRENT LOADEDTHE EMPTY cooler and bucket of balls into the back of his truck, glad they'd pulled off the first win of the season. The boys had whooped, hollered and then ran for the bathrooms. They'd drunk all the Gatorade he'd mixed and put out.

Henry popped up at his elbow. "Thanks for coaching me. It was awesome."

"You're welcome. I had fun, too. Good play you made to get that out. Your throw to first was right on target."

Henry nodded. "Mom wanted to know if you want to join us for a burger at the Dairy Barn. She wants some onion rings."

"Seriously?" Brent looked up and saw Rayne talking with a few other mothers. Something caught in his chest at the way her hands moved as she talked. At the tilt of her chin. The animation in her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. She never eats fried stuff." Henry joined him in staring at his mom. "You don't think aliens adducted her, do you?"

"Abducted. And, no, I don't think they exist."

"I saw some in a magazine. They had big heads and weird eyes. It said they suck people's brains out of their ears," Henrysaid, looking as if he totally believed everything he'd read in the pages of the magazine.

"You're a funny kid," Brent said, tossing the catcher's equipment bag over the side of the truck bed and pushing up the tailgate.

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