Page 28 of Second Chance for the Single Mom

Sara stamped her foot. “Why not!”

“Because I don’t want you whispering in my ear about how this is fate,” I replied. “I just want to watch my son attend a baseball practice for the first time.”

“Fine,” Sara said unhappily. “But if he joins, I get to come to the next practice.”

“Deal,” I agreed.

Bran was a bundle of energy as we loaded up the car and drove to the baseball field. As we walked across the parking lot, I smiled at the house on the corner. The for-sale sign now said: “UNDER CONTRACT.” Fingers crossed the inspection went fine.

Jordan was easy to spot on the field—he was already a tall man, but he absolutely towered above the five- and six-year-olds that were gathered around him. His gaze collided with mine from across the space, and a sexy shiver ran up my spine. It reminded me of the way he’d gazed down at me when we were…

“Coach Jordy!” Bran shouted, then took off running in that direction.

“Put your gear in the dugout,” Jordan commanded. “We always start practice by warming up.”

I sat in the nearby bleachers, which were occupied by a scattering of other parents. Most of them were on their phones. I pulled my own phone out and idly began returning some emails.

But as practice began, I couldn’t focus on anything other than the grown-up version of Jordan Mayfield.

He led the kids in a warm-up that involved jumping jacks, then static stretching. “All right! Grab your gloves and line up for soft toss!” he shouted.

The kids formed two lines about twenty feet apart, and began throwing baseballs back and forth. Bran was on the end; there was an uneven number of kids, so he didn’t have anyone to throw to.

“With me, Bran,” Jordan said, standing across from my son. “Soft toss just means we’re playing catch.”

I winced as Bran’s first throw went high, but Jordan was quick with his glove and snatched the ball out of the air. “Careful there, slugger,” Jordan said with a laugh. “Aim for my chest.”

Bran’s next throw was better, and he quickly settled into a rhythm as they threw the baseball back and forth. After a few minutes, Jordan barked a wordless command, and everyone took two big steps backwards, lengthening the distance they had to throw the ball. Bran had to lean into it a little more, but was still able to send the ball across the space with more accuracy than I expected.

After soft toss, Jordan had them take positions in the infield. He hit ground balls to each position, rotating the kids out after every play. Bran struggled more with this—we had only practiced his throwing in the past week.

“Get your body in front of it!” Jordan instructed. “Go again, Bran.”

He hit another ground ball to him, but Bran couldn’t get his glove out in time.

After fielding ground balls, the kids practiced batting. Jordan stood in front of the pitcher’s mound and lightly tossed a ball to each kid underhand. Some of the boys struggled with this part, but most were able to at least make contact with the ball.

Except for Bran, who whiffed every time.

“Good practice everyone!” Jordan announced when the hour was over. “Wednesday night we’re going to work on running the bases and sliding, so make sure you wear long pants. I’ll send out an email reminder, but make sure you tell your parents, just in case they forget.”

The kids gathered their things and went running off to their parents, except for Bran, who was still standing at the edge of the field with his head hung low.

“What’s the matter, kiddo?” Jordan asked.

“I’m not good,” Bran said.

“Sure you are,” Jordan said. “You’ve only been to one practice, and you’re already throwing heat like Felix Hernandez.”

“But I couldn’t field the ball,” Bran stubbornly insisted. “And I didn’t hit the ball when I was batting. Not evenonce.”

Jordan glanced over at me, then crouched down to look Bran in the eyes. “Let me tell you a secret. Are you listening?”

Bran nodded.

“Everyone is bad at everything when they first start,” he explained. “It takes practice. Who’s your favorite player?”

“Randy Arozarena,” Bran muttered.

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