Bad Traveler Read online

  Baffled by the strange array of stuff, she muttered, “Who gives a baby stuff like this?” and “Where on earth am I going to put this?”

  Questions jumbled in her mind, leaving her confused and angry. She didn’t know where he got the money. He made decent tips tending bar at his family’s pub, but most ended up back in the till. When she’d demanded his financial help, he claimed his inconsistent income offered no guarantees he could pay his share of the rent, much less child care.

  The notes in his gifts to Chloe expressed a desire to spend time with her—a doubtful proposition, in her opinion. In their last big fight, he’d said he didn’t want to be a father. He’d accused her of tricking him into an unwanted commitment. By leaving with Chloe, she’d made life easier for both of them. He wouldn’t have to be involved, and she wouldn’t have to risk running into an emotionally unavailable, cheating louse. Moving home to pursue her dreams with the support of her family had seemed like a win-win situation.

  Two boxes remained, both addressed to her. They might explain his intentions, but whether they made sense was another matter. Not wanting to start another conversation about her past decisions, she excused herself and retreated to the bathroom—the one place she could go without interruptions.

  The first cardboard box had a small silver package inside. Gwen opened it to find a gold, heart-shaped necklace. The card stated “Thank you for giving us Chloe. I am sorry I wasn’t there for you in the hospital.” His apology skirted his infidelity. Perhaps his mother had threatened to disinherit him if he didn’t make nice by the end of the year.

  She opened the second package, the one with the handwritten label and return address. From the layers of crumpled-up newspaper and tissue paper, she extracted a see-through red baby doll with a crotchless red G-string and a pair of matching red high-heeled feathered sandals. The garments burned holes in her retinas. As she dropped them, she noticed the card. Her hands trembled. “I can’t wait to see you in this! Miss you, babe. Love, Cody.” The bathroom grew claustrophobic. Her stomach lurched. She needed air.

  ***

  After bundling Chloe for a walk, Gwen sought clarity in the cool night air. Anxiety, not the chill, caused her muscles to tremble. The lightly falling snow elicited giggles from Chloe. Although she knew no more beautiful, joyous sound in the world, it couldn’t stop the negativity. There was no way out. Cody had found them, and worse, he wanted them.

  She stomped her feet hard on the front porch before going inside. Unbundling Chloe, she noticed Keira’s wild gesturing too late. Her father stomped through the hall, red-faced and cardboard box in hand.

  “It’s bad enough my unmarried daughter moved back home with her baby and no father in sight, but to you have leave your risqué underwear in the bathroom where anyone could find it?” His thunderous voice frightened Chloe. “No wonder you messed up. If this is how you act, you’ll have to find somewhere else to live!”

  Her legs collapsed. Braced against the wall for support, she sank to the floor, Chloe cradled in her arms as she murmured soft words of reassurance. She wasn’t sure if they were for herself or Chloe.

  The front door swung open, assaulting her with cool air.

  She feared looking up to see her father with a cold look and pointing into the street, but through the sound of her soft sobbing came “Ahem” in Mom’s soothing voice. “James, why don’t you put the groceries away for me, and I’ll help with Chloe.”

  Mom spoke to Dad in private. Soon, she returned triumphant. “Well, that’s settled. Your father knows that the lingerie wasn’t your idea. He sometimes has a hard time accepting that you girls are all grown up. He offered to stay home with Chloe, so the three of us girls can get out of the house.”

  “I thought you all were going to the basketball game tonight.”

  “Now it will be just the girls.” Mom stood taller than usual, her posture a reflection of her pride.

  She forced a smile to her lips even though hiding under the covers in her warm bed sounded preferable. Basketball was not her idea of fun. Dad’s rabid fandom embarrassed her; even worse, Kyle might see her after a crying bender. Not that he’d care, or offer the right comfort.

  ***

  Keira insisted she dress up and look cute, threatening her with a mascara wand, when she protested. Dad wouldn’t be able to get Chloe to sleep for him because only she knew how. Mom refused to take two cars, assuring that, in a true emergency, they, “Would all leave together. Besides if anything horrible does happen, James will need a vehicle, too.”

  Mom and Keira offered solutions for every disaster scenario she presented until there was nothing left but to go to the game.

  Instead of the rowdy student crowd, plenty of empty seats greeted them. She welcomed the more sedate atmosphere. Last time she went to a game, they sat in the nosebleed section, but her parents had upgraded at some point. Juggling sodas and oversize pretzels snowy with kosher salt, they walked down the arena steps until they were five rows behind the home bench. As the teams were introduced, she caught sight of Kyle. Her anger over Keira’s insistence on makeup dissipated.

  She remembered he made the ROTC uniform a highly anticipated event in her undergrad life, but the sight of him in a suit sent her belly quivering. The clean lines of the dark blue suit accentuated his broad shoulders. He exuded cool confidence as he walked across the court, focusing on the players from both teams getting ready to play. He reached the bench, set down his clipboard, and turned to the crowd. Their eyes met, and the corner of his mouth lifted. For the first time all day, her scowl faded. She had an ally. A player tapped him on the arm, and he turned his attention back to the game.

  The first half seemed to go well. The Ravens were winning, which was a good sign. Her mom attempted to explain the rules, but the action distracted her. She tried to cheer when she saw her sister and mother clapping, but mostly, she watched Kyle. As the teams headed toward their locker rooms at halftime, he winked her direction.

  She and her sister took advantage of the break to stop by the bathroom. Keira cornered her as she applied a fresh coat of lip balm.

  “You look great, sis, but you really should go talk to him. If we hurry, you might catch him before the second half starts.”

  “Who?”

  “That dishy coach, duh. Remember two weeks ago when I ran the shop so you could take Chloe in for her checkup?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, he seemed disappointed not to see you. He worried Chloe was sick when I said you were at the doctor. He likes you. You should totally go for it. I could babysit. Heck, you could even borrow my apartment if you need to.”

  She didn’t need a mirror check to know how red her cheeks were. “I can’t believe you said that! First Dad. Now you. Just because I had a baby out of wedlock doesn’t mean I’m easy. Besides, Kyle is too…too honorable to do something like that.”

  “That’s not what I meant. It’s just…. Look, as a grown-up in this town who dates, there aren’t a lot of places to go that aren’t also student hangouts. I saw how people approached him in your shop. He’s like a celebrity. I meant you could go there if you wanted to fix him dinner or watch a movie or escape Mom and Dad a bit. Oh, is it true he’s got robotic legs? Can he even, you know? Because if he ca—”

  “What?”

  “Just something I heard. Stupid bathroom gossip.” Keira came up with the wackiest stories and relished sharing.

  “Let’s go back.”

  ***

  The second half was a nightmare. Their opponents, the Redhawks fought their way back into the game, forcing the Ravens to the line to shoot free throws, which was their known weakness. The home crowd expressed their dislike of this tactic by booing at every foul committed by the other team.

  Kyle hated that noise. Maybe for an egregious foul, but for the home crowd to boo so much…. The sound got into the kids heads, defeating them before they had a chance to lose on the court. Coach Meyer dismissed his idea on how to turn the game around. Ther
e was no point in stewing about it. He had morale to boost.

  The Redhawks committed another hard foul, throwing the Raven’s shooting guard onto the floor. The crowd silenced at the horrible thunk of his head hitting the floor. Along with the rest of the coaching staff, he rushed to the floor to help their injured player. At least their boy was alert. After several minutes, he stood and walked off the court to the sound of applause.

  When the referees didn’t call a flagrant foul, Coach grew livid. Even the bald spot on his head turned red. His considerable girth bounced up and down as he stomped toward the head referee and yelled in the man’s face. Kyle did his best to keep the players calm on the sidelines as war raged at the half-court. The referee made a telltale thumb jerk, ejecting Coach from the game.

  Meyer stormed off, working the crowd into a frenzy, pausing long enough to point at Kyle. This was his chance to act as head coach. He wanted to win this game, not for his injured player, and not for Coach Meyer or the Raven’s overall record. He had to prove to himself he could make the right calls and, if he was honest, to impress Gwen. When he saw her before the game, she looked sad, even as she mustered a smile. She might not come to another game, so she deserved to see a victory.

  In the huddle, he encouraged his team to keep their cool. They couldn’t afford to let the Redhawks get cheap points. He reminded them of the skills he saw every day in practice. Lastly, he made the substitution Coach Meyer had rejected earlier. The team lost speed and size with their third-string point guard, but the undersized sophomore could sink the threes and, more importantly, was a ninety-two percent free-throw shooter. In response to the raised eyebrows from his players, he explained his plan to move the other point to shooting guard, and the team got on board. The whistle blew, and the players regrouped. Don’t blow this.

  The game became a lot more nerve-racking and less fun once Kyle took over. The crowd’s initial reaction seemed mean, but he appeared unfazed, looking only at the court. She leaned forward in her seat, covering her ears with her hands.

  Mom muttered how it was a good thing James wasn’t here to see this. He would not have approved. Gwen didn’t understand why people were upset or why they took out their anger on Kyle. They booed, but he was an oasis of calm. He kept his shoulders squared and his gaze even, looking every inch like the elite soldier he once was. She was nervous enough for both of them. Her leg bounced as the Ravens fell further and further behind. The shortest player on the court, number fifty-seven, turned to the bench, eyes wide. Kyle nodded his head, a stark contrast to the screaming, stomping Coach Meyer.

  She couldn’t watch, but she couldn’t look away. The action shifted, players moved about the floor, whistles blew, and balls went through hoops. Fifty-seven started sinking shots, drawing a crowd of defenders. The Ravens appeared to be everywhere at once. Mom told her this was a good sign because options opened up for other players as the Redhawks struggled with who to guard.

  The final buzzer sounded: Ravens 76, Redhawks 64.

  When the game ended, fans crowded toward the bench, shouting encouragement and congratulations for the players and the coach. If she joined them, to congratulate Kyle in person, her family would have to wait. Mom nudged her as she tugged her hat over her hair.

  “Go on, dear. He’s your friend. I’m in no hurry.”

  As she neared the floor, the sound of her name broke through the din as Kyle called to her and asked the crowd to make way. The attention embarrassed her, as the mostly male crowd parted.

  He leaned in so close, his light perspiration made her swoon, or at least want to take a long, deep breath, so she did.

  “I’m glad you came. Can you stay a little longer, or do you need to hurry back?”

  “I came with my mom and sister….”

  “I’ll take you home, if you’re able to wait a little bit.”

  She glanced back at her family, but Mom waved her hand in a go-on gesture. Something had shifted in the way he looked at her tonight and, maybe if she stayed, she’d figure out what. “Sure.”

  Waiting in the empty corridor where the security guard directed her seemed like the closest she’d ever come to being a rock-and-roll groupie. Motherhood had brought an end to her late nights. The clock on her phone proved only fifteen minutes had passed since Mom and Keira said good-bye. Her foot drummed against the floor. The little game on her phone failed to amuse her. She was about to check the time when his footsteps, with their distinctive uneven thuds, echoed. Robotic? No way.

  Kyle in a suit should be against the law. And if it were a crime, she would have to do her duty and make a citizen’s arrest, and he might even resist. She forced her mind to stop playing out this scenario. It was far too dangerous and stupid to think such thoughts. Then again, maybe something mutual existed since he’d asked her to stay, or maybe he was being the same good friend he’d always been. He met her gaze. There was nothing casual in the way he looked at her. And she liked it.

  His cheeks hurt from grinning like an idiot. The substitution strategy had worked. He’d gotten the right personnel on the court at the right time. The players did the hard work, and they chalked up another victory. That was his excuse, but Gwen was the real reason. Leaning against the tiled wall, she oozed sex appeal in her dark jeans and the snug-fit Ravens T-shirt he’d given her for Christmas. The letters curved around the edges of her breasts, inviting a second look. Her glossy hair fanned out over the collar of her pale pink parka, begging for a touch. Tonight, confidence soaring, he planned to do just that.

  “Thanks for waiting.” His voice caught, emerging husky. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

  “It was fun. You were great out there.” She tugged at her scarf, strands of hair caught in the weave.

  “Thanks.” When he moved closer, an irresistible strawberry scent beckoned. His hand slid underneath her hair to liberate the shiny silk from the scarf. His fingers grazed the soft warmth of her neck. With a tilt of his head, he could guide her lips to his, but a sharp intake of breath caught him off guard.

  Were his hands cold? Had he offended her? “Sorry. I—”

  “Don’t be. You surprised me.”

  What would induce that throaty gasp again? Several ideas—well, most of them—involved a distinct lack of clothing. Fear of rejection had cost him the chance to be with Gwen once. He refused to make that mistake again even though she had more reason than ever to dismiss his advances. But tonight was his night. Failure would not occur. He would make her gasp and groan even if they stayed fully clothed.

  They walked to his Jeep, and she chatted about the game she didn’t fully understand. Her efforts charmed him. Their breath made small clouds in front of them as they crossed the parking lot. Once inside, he started the engine and cranked up the heat.

  “Where to? It’s too cold to go out to the covered bridge.” Her blush was worth naming the notorious isolated bridge where romantic couples sought quality time in their cars. “We’ll avoid the sport bars, too, I think. I’m not in the mood to talk about the game. Are you hungry? We could go to Pablo’s?” He wasn’t hungry, not for food anyway, but an invitation to his apartment carried too much risk. When he told her about his injuries, she’d leave. Nothing would spoil this night, not even him.

  “Or we could go to my shop, drink some coffee or have cookies and milk. I have my keys.”

  “Perfect.” His heart thumped as he put the car in gear. No one would bother them. They would be alone in a cozy space she’d created. The absence of students left the streets virtually empty. Her gloved hand covered his for the five-minute drive. After a few turns, they parked behind the store and entered through the kitchen.

  “What will you have? Unfortunately, I have tons of inventory left from today.” She opened the back side of the display counter, revealing about a dozen or so of six different types of cookies. “I swore I wouldn’t sell day-old cookies, but I may bundle up some at a discount rate tomorrow since there are so many.” The touch of sadness in her voice made him wa
nt to whip out his wallet and buy them all up.

  “I’ll take an oatmeal raisin, a chocolate chip, and…. Are those ginger snaps?”

  “Actually, those are molasses cookies. They are spicy like a ginger snap, but different.” She stacked an assortment of cookies on a plate. “It’s my nana’s recipe. See what you think. Coffee?”

  “Don’t make coffee on my account. I’m too wired already. I’d rather have milk.”

  “Me, too.” She poured milk into a couple of mugs and started toward the corner table, which featured a plush, secondhand love seat. He followed with the cookies. A rapping on the window drew their attention to a couple outside. Gwen pointed to the Closed sign, but the couple persisted.

  He walked to the door. “We’re closed.”

  She rushed to his side, adding, “We’ll be open Tuesday at seven a.m. We hope to open in the evenings starting in late January.”

  The couple walked away.

  “I could have made a sale, but….” She sounded frustrated and tired.

  “I think we should stay in the kitchen. I doubt people will bother us if we have lights on back there.”

  A spark returned to her eyes. “If we sit on the floor behind the counter, no one will know we we’re here. They’ll think someone left the lights on by accident.”

  Sitting side-by-side on the floor, backs against the counter, they set the plate of cookies between them along with their mugs of milk, handy for dunking. He picked up the firm molasses cookie with large pieces of sugar that stuck to his fingers. The crisp outside yielded to a softness that melted in his mouth. Sweet with a hint of saltiness to make it interesting, just like Gwen. Tonight, he’d see if she would melt in his arms, and his mouth. It was his night.