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He gave me an awkward side hug, then dashed down the steps to his bike.
“Marco,” I called out.
He looked up at me, all chubby cheeked and happy once again. I’d forgotten that Chris was ever his size.
I held up one finger. “Can you wait just a minute? I have something for you. For riding your bike.”
“Sure.”
I ran inside and to the back porch and dug into the basket filled with a variety of sports equipment.
“Here,” I said to Marco as I went down the front steps. I handed him a bike helmet. “This belonged to my son, but his head’s too big for it now. It’s really important you wear a helmet when you ride a bike. Okay?”
He looked at the blue helmet with a Maryland flag sticker on the side of it. “Wow, cool! Thanks.”
I helped him adjust the straps so it fit him. It was a little big, but it was better than nothing, and he’d quickly grow into it. “There. If you ever get into trouble again, you can always knock on my door. You can remember it because the door’s red. Okay?” Since the block had about twenty row houses—as they were called in Baltimore—and all were identical brick and white trim, I used the colored door as an easy way to indicate to people which one was mine.
He gave me a big grin, a tooth missing on the bottom. “Thanks, Miss Emory!”
I watched him ride off and around the corner, wounds forgotten.
CHAPTER FOUR
EMORY
Simon and I showed up at the park a little before noon. I didn’t want to seem too eager and I had to do some serious psyching up at home to actually go. I'd even chickened out twice. Committing Simon yesterday had been a smart move; I hadn’t been able to back out. There was no way he was going to miss seeing the guy who’d gotten me all flustered. When we’d met on the sidewalk out front, Simon had given me a once over as usual.
I looked down at myself. Because it was hot and we'd be out in the sun, I wore black shorts and a racer-back tank top that was black-and-white stripe on the front and solid red on the back. A pedicure had been my Saturday night excitement, but at least my toes looked good in my flip-flops. I’d pulled my hair back into a ponytail, the shorter curls framing my face. I wore sunglasses and a thick layer of sunscreen. “It’s a rugby game in a park. I can dress myself for that.”
My slight grumbling tone made Simon’s eyebrows go up, but he didn’t push. I could only assume he could tell how out of sorts I was and didn’t want to either make me run back inside and lock the door or start to cry. Not that I had plans for either, but he didn’t know that.
When we got to the park, guys were out on the field running around with a big white ball, tackling and crushing each other like in football, but without any pads or helmets. Since this was my first rugby game, I didn’t know the rules and there was no scoreboard or time clock. It looked like a complete free-for-all to me. There were about twenty other spectators along the sidelines, some in folding chairs, others on blankets. Kids ran around chasing each other, and babies took naps in their strollers, worn out from the heat.
I spread out a blanket as Simon put down the small cooler I'd packed, then we settled in to watch. He handed me a soda as I sat cross-legged.
“Which one is he?” He popped the lid on his drink.
One team wore black-and-white striped T-shirts like a bunch of convicts, the other wore dark green ones with a yellow collar. As I scanned the men, I realized Faith would have enjoyed this. Watching sweaty, fit men run around and tackle each other, showing off their caveman qualities would spike any woman’s libido. It certainly worked on mine. But when I finally glimpsed Gray on the field, my heart stuttered. The other night wasn’t a fluke. He did something to me. This guy, why this guy? Was I insane? There was one way to find out.
“There.” I pointed.
“The blond?”
I shook my head, took a sip of soda to cool myself down. Gray looked…God, amazing. Manly. He was wearing one of the ridiculous convict shirts, the neckline stretched out by someone’s rough grab. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he had a streak of dirt on his arm that blended in with the tattoo. With his arm exposed, I could see it was large enough to creep up his forearm and over his biceps. Although he was dark complected and tan, the tattoo stood out in stark contrast. I hadn’t been wild about tattoos in general before, but on Gray…it totally melted my butter. I had to wonder if he had any others, and if so, where?
“No, the one with the dark close-cropped hair.”
Simon looked where I pointed, his brows going up. “Holy shit, Em. That’s the guy?”
I nodded.
“I can see why he made you nervous. He’s fucking hot and nothing like a guy you’d normally be interested in.”
There was that word again. Normal.
“I know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what it is about him.” I turned to Simon, hoping he’d truly understand, because I sure didn’t. “I mean, he’s got tattoos! But when I saw him Friday night my heart stopped and my brain went to mush. I swear I had a hot flash.”
He looked at me over the top of his sunglasses, serious. “Maybe he’s the kind of guy you need and just never knew.”
