No Matter What (The Billionaires of Sawgrass #4) - Delaney Cameron Page 0,87
for a Day (Finding Love, Book 8)
The Gift of Love (Finding Love, Book 9)
Waiting for a Girl Like You (Finding Love, Book 10)
A New Year's Kiss (Finding Love, Book 11)
Tybee Island Series:
Meant for Each Other (Tybee Island, Book 1)
Dream of Me (Tybee Island, Book 2)
Standalones:
Finding Allie: A Sweet Regency Romance Novella
Preview of Team Mom
The scent of freshly mowed grass filled the air. Julie smiled reassuringly at the boy getting out of the car, all the while hoping she’d done the right thing. Would baseball provide the diversion he so badly needed? As they emerged from the rows of parked vehicles, a large metal sign proclaimed their arrival at Lakeside Park. A winding sidewalk took them past bleachers partially filled with parents, all eyes glued to the action taking place on the field.
“Let’s find the office first,” Julie said. “Someone there will know where we’re supposed to go.” Resisting the urge to take his hand, she walked around to the back of the green-roofed concession stand and stopped before an open door. “Wait for me here, Jordan. I’ll be right back.”
Her entrance into the tiny room halted the animated conversation taking place between the two men standing on either side of a desk.
“Can I help you?” the one closest to her asked.
She smiled faintly. “I hope so. I need to find Coach Gibson.”
The men exchanged a look. “I’m heading that way now. I’ll show you.”
“Thank you.” She followed him out the door, stopping to speak to Jordan. “This nice man is going to show us where to go.”
Jordan slipped his arms through the straps of a bat bag that was almost as big as he was.
The man turned to Julie. “I’m Coach Tillerson. I’ll be helping Coach Gibson with the team.”
“I’m Julie Evans and this is Jordan.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. The practice fields for the younger boys are in the back. If you want to avoid the long walk, you can park at the rec center. It’s a lot closer.”
She laughed. “Thanks for the tip. We’ll do that next time.”
He led them past two more fields and a pavilion jammed with people sitting at picnic tables. To Julie’s dismay, the sidewalk ended at this point. Ruefully contemplating her high heeled sandals, she walked gingerly on the patchy surface that was more dirt than actual grass.
Coach Tillerson looked back and noticed her difficulty. “They hope to extend the sidewalk this summer. In the meantime, we have to put up with muddy shoes.”
“I’d normally be wearing tennis shoes, but I was late leaving work. I’ll try to have Jordan here on time from now on.”
“No problem. Has he played before?”
“He played tee ball, but that was several years ago.”
“How old is he?”
She’d been expecting this question. Jordan was small for his age; a state of affairs Julie was positive would pass as he grew older. His father was well over six foot. “He just turned nine.”
Turning to look at Jordan, Coach Tillerson asked, “What position would you like to play?”
“Outfield or first base.”
“We definitely need outfielders.”
Julie blew out an exasperated breath as one of her spiked heels sank so far into the soft ground that it stuck. Hobbling on one foot, she reached down and pulled the shoe free. How much further could they possibly have to go? And whose grand idea was it to put practice fields in a flood plain? This area probably never dried out.
Her jovial mood had taken a beating by the time Coach Tillerson stopped and waved a hand toward a rickety set of weather-beaten bleachers. Surely he didn’t expect her to sit on that. The metal frame was twisted, and the wood was splintered so badly in places it should be considered a health hazard. Did the little league officials ever bother to walk back here and check this out?
Coach Tillerson grinned at her horrified expression. “It looks worse than it is. I’ll throw with Jordan to get him warmed up and then take him to Coach Gibson.”
Julie didn’t bother to argue the point about the bleachers. Instead, she slid her purse from her shoulder and put it down gingerly on the bottom row as if she didn’t expect it to hold even that much weight. Her eyes fell to her feet, and she sighed again.
“Jason, Will and Robert will be hitting first. The rest of you go to the outfield to shag balls.”
The deep, attractive voice cut across Julie’s contemplation of her ruined shoes. To her left another man was making his way across