That was their pattern for the next hour. Occasionally Bobby would hit the ball and let Lucas try to catch it, but after each ball Lucas would ask if he could be the batter again. Rather than push, he figured it wasn’t a big deal to let him get comfortable with one skill at a time. Maybe next time they’d work on playing catch.
Next time? Was he seriously standing here thinking of when he could hang out and play ball again? Sure, he wasn’t opposed to it and he really was having a great time, plus he really wanted to get to know Teagan better…
No, he wasn’t going to use Lucas in an attempt to win over Teagan. It was wrong on so many levels. What he really wanted was to find a way to see her again in a bit of a different setting—one that didn’t involve a big family gathering or babysitting. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? Maybe if he could just—
Whack!
The next thing he knew, something hit him hard, his eye was stinging like it was on fire, and he was stumbling back.
“Oh my God!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
Eyes slammed shut, Bobby bent at the waist as he hissed out a breath. It didn’t take long to realize Lucas was on one side of him and Teagan on the other.
When had she gotten back?
His eye stung like a…well, he wanted to let loose a string of curses, but was mindful of the five-year-old beside him. No doubt if Bobby could get it together, he’d see Lucas’s big brown eyes looking scared.
Pull it together, Hannigan, he chided himself. You were shot, for crying out loud. This was a plastic ball to the eye! Man up!
Slowly, he straightened and let out a long breath, forcing himself to open his eye—which was now tearing up wildly.
Awesome.
Teagan stepped in front of him and cupped his cheek in her hand while she looked at his eye. “We’re going to have to put ice on that. Come on.” She took him gently by the hand and led him back to the house. Lucas grabbed his other hand and Bobby had to fight the urge to pull away from them both because they were treating him like an invalid.
Or maybe he was just acting like one.
They stepped through the back door and into the kitchen. Bobby sat down on one of the bar stools while Teagan prepared an ice pack. Between the pain and the tearing, his vision was slightly blurred, but not enough that he couldn’t tell that the woman fussing over him had received a bit of a makeover. She had different makeup on, her nails were painted a bold, bright pink, and her hair was full of curls that looked like they had been kissed by the sun. He knew enough about women to know how to compliment a good haircut and highlights, but this was the first time he’d been stunned speechless by the sight of them.
She looked younger and more carefree than he’d seen her before.
Except now she was frowning at him.
“Here,” she said softly, lifting the ice pack over his eye. “Hold this on there for a few minutes. Can I get you something for the pain?”
“No. I’m fine, really. It looks worse than it feels.”
Even though it felt pretty painful, he had to remember that he’d been hit by a plastic ball, not another bullet.
“It’s my fault, Mom,” Lucas said, his small voice coming from the stool beside Bobby. “I hit the ball before he asked if I was ready.” Bobby could hear the tremor in his voice and had a feeling the kid was going to start crying any minute.
Resting one arm on the counter, Bobby turned and mussed up Lucas’s hair. “It wasn’t your fault, Lucas. I wasn’t paying attention. You’ve got nothing to be upset about, okay?”
Lucas’s eyes went wide. “But—but you got hurt and—”
“And that’s what happens when you don’t pay attention,” Bobby said firmly but gently. “It’s an important lesson to remember when you’re playing sports. You always need to be paying attention or you could get hurt.” Then he pointed to his eye and gave a lopsided grin. “Just like this.”
Lucas studied him and then looked at his mother before turning his attention back to Bobby. “So…you’re not mad at me?”
Bobby shook his head. “Nope.”
“And maybe you still want to play ball with me?”
“Any time,” he said with a nod.
“Like right now?”
“Lucas,” Teagan quickly interrupted. “I think Bobby needs to rest for a little while. Why don’t you go and read for a bit, okay?”
“But Mom—”
Before Teagan could respond, Bobby leaned close to Lucas and whispered, loud enough for her to hear, “This is another important lesson to remember—don’t argue with your mom.”
“Oooh,” Lucas said, dragging out the word. “Okay.” Then he hopped down and ran to his room.
When they were alone, Bobby found Teagan looking at him. For the life of him, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Should he apologize for interrupting her when she was talking to her son? Or maybe apologize for teaching the kid how to hit a ball? Her expression was mild and a little unreadable, and it made him feel sort of uncomfortable.
“Teagan, listen. I know I should have—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “Can I just say something first?” she asked gently, glancing over her shoulder at the door to Lucas’s room.
He nodded.
“You handled that very well and I appreciate it. And while I hate that you ended up getting hurt, I’m very thankful you didn’t take it out on Lucas.”
Placing the ice pack on the counter, he looked at her like she was crazy. Had someone else done that to the kid? Had his father been abusive? Was that why they were willing to move so far away from him? Then another thought hit him—had this unknown, unnamed man been abusive to Teagan, as well?
Swallowing the rage he was feeling, Bobby took a minute to gather his thoughts. “First of all, I meant what I said. I was the one at fault, not Lucas. And yeah, it stung like son of a—” He stopped when he saw that Lucas’s bedroom door was open. “Anyway, it hurt. But there was no reason to get mad at anyone except myself.”
Teagan laughed and gently touched the skin right under his eye. “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage, but you’ll probably have at least a bit of a bruise there. Sorry.”
Unable to help himself, Bobby captured her wrist to keep her hand on his cheek. He heard her soft gasp, saw the surprised look on her face.
He had so many questions that he was dying to ask—about her life, about Lucas’s father—but he couldn’t make himself form the words. Now wasn’t the time. His gaze lingered on her face. “Your spa day agreed with you. You look beautiful.” And even that felt awkward coming out of his mouth. Normally, he could sweet-talk his way around any girl. He was good at it. But right now with Teagan, he felt like a teenager around his first crush.
She blushed. “Thank you.”
He swallowed. “It’s true. Not that you didn’t look beautiful before,” he quickly corrected. “But right now, you just look…amazing.”
He almost groaned at how lame he sounded.
Slowly, Teagan pulled her hand from his and took a step back. “You, um, you should really keep the ice on your eye for a little longer.”