a deer every year to keep meat in my freezer the way some folks do. If I’d grown up hunting, it might be different. As it is, I like to hike, I’ve done some mountain climbing, I love windsurfing, I play basketball, I run for exercise and do some weight lifting.” He glanced at Jake. “Do you play any sports?”
“I did Little League until this year. And I play basketball. Mom said I might be able to do some sport camps this summer. Did you play college ball?”
“I did. Portland State. If it’s okay with your mother, maybe this weekend we could find a hoop and play some one-on-one.” Maybe Laura would want to play, too, or come watch. Offer to feed him lunch, he thought hopefully.
“I couldn’t defend against you,” the boy said indignantly. “You’re really tall.”
Ethan laughed. “No, but we can play Horse, practice our free throws and layups. Just have fun.”
“Yeah! That would be cool.”
“Good.” He pulled up in front of Jake’s house. “I’ll call. And see you next week, if not before. Ask your mom about this weekend, but be warned that sometimes I end up having to work.”
“You don’t want to come in?” Jake sounded disappointed.
“I’d better not,” Ethan said, even though there was nothing he’d have liked better. But...she’d had him to dinner. She’d blushed a couple of times. Once, their fingers had brushed when she passed him a dish, and she’d stopped talking midsentence and gone very still, a hint of yearning in her eyes.
Or so he’d convinced himself.
No, he wasn’t going to push it.
And...he’d better think long and hard before he spent any more time with Laura Vennetti anyway. He had a hard time picturing her having casual affairs. Anything else—they had some major strikes against them. It really might be smarter not to start anything.
But he waited until Jake let himself in the front door, only then acknowledging how disappointed he was not to catch a glimpse of Laura.
And admitting how much he wanted to see her again.
ETHAN WAITED JUST inside Laura Vennetti’s front door for Jake to change into basketball shoes. She hovered politely, giving him a chance to scan her dirty, ripped jeans and ragged flannel shirt—none of which disguised the lush curves he’d like to linger on but didn’t.
“I’m feeling guilty,” he said after a brief silence that had the potential to become awkward. “I could help scrape the deck instead of taking your helper away from you.”
She sneaked a look over her shoulder toward the hall, and still lowered her voice. “Take him away. Please,” she begged, surprising a laugh from him. “He whines more than he works.”
Still grinning, he said, “Is this where I admit I don’t blame him? It sounds like a crappy job.”
Her freckled nose crinkled. “It is a crappy job, but I think I can mostly finish today. Especially if I’m left alone to do it in peace. Painting is bound to be more fun.”
He looked past her to see Jake approaching. “You set?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah.” The boy sounded eager. “You’re not coming, are you, Mom?”
“And now I feel so welcome.” She stuck out her tongue at him. “No, I’m not. But I was about to invite Ethan to stay to lunch when you get back if he’d like.”
“I’d love to stay,” he said without hesitation.
Her smile was more uncomplicated than any he’d yet seen. It lit her face. And, yes, he’d been right; her eyes were a brighter blue when she was happy.
“Good,” she said, bumping her shoulder against her son’s as he passed. “Have fun.”
Talking idly about nothing in particular, they drove to Jake’s school, which had the closest available outdoor courts. Despite the lack of rain, the sky was sullen enough they could have one hoop to themselves, Ethan was glad to find.
It felt good to palm a basketball, to feel the flow of muscles as he let loose of some long jump shots. He played often enough he hadn’t lost the instincts, the reflexes. Funny, though, how long it had been since he’d played on an asphalt schoolyard court like this.
Ethan shot from way outside and watched as the ball dropped through the rim and Jake snagged it. Hit by memories, he said, “Man, I spent hours at a school near my house when I was your age, doing nothing but shooting. Half the time there wasn’t any net. I was sure I’d be an NBA star.”
“How come you’re not?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know if I’d have made it or not, and I doubt I’d have been a star no matter what. But by then I’d changed my mind. I loved playing college ball, though.”
“You’re tall enough to play pro, aren’t you?”
“Probably. I’m almost six foot four. I played forward for Portland State, but I might have been able to move to guard.” He shrugged. “There are a lot of good college ball players, though, who had the same dreams I did. It’s probably just as well I’d moved on. If nothing else, pro ball isn’t a career that lasts long. One knee injury can end it just like that.” He snapped his fingers, and then beckoned for the ball, which Jake bounced to him. “Can you shoot from the free throw line yet?”
The boy grimaced. “Kind of.”
They worked on it for a while, Ethan offering a few suggestions and Jake noticeably improving, before Ethan asked how his week had gone at school. “You try standing up for yourself?” he asked.
Jake gave a stiff shrug. “I said what you suggested to a couple of people. I don’t know. Mostly people are still looking funny at me.”
“They’ll get over it.” Ethan stole the ball from him, dribbled a couple of times and did an effortless slam dunk. Aware of the openmouthed stare from a group of boys playing a short distance away, Ethan felt some amusement at himself. Showboating, were you? He tipped his head toward the boys. “That anyone you know?”
Jake didn’t look. “One is in my class. Another of those guys used to be a friend. Ron.”
Ethan made an acknowledging sound. “What d’ya say we dazzle ’em, then?”
“Yeah!”
They played hard, Jake’s layups getting smoother, his moves as he tried to steal the ball from Ethan sneakier. When they finally decided to quit, Ethan waited until they were walking past the other boys before he said easily, “Practice, and you’ll play varsity, no problem. You’re good for your age.”
Jake flushed with pleasure. “Thanks. I mean—that’d be cool, you know?”
Ethan tapped him lightly on the back. They were past being in earshot of the little shits who’d snubbed Jake. “Looks like you might get some height from your mom, too. I don’t think your dad was tall enough to seriously play basketball.”
“He played baseball in high school.” His forehead crinkled. “I think football, too, but mostly he was a really great first baseman.”
Hearing how uncertain but also defiant he sounded, Ethan had to wonder how well the boy remembered his father. Ethan’s own memories before age six or seven were pretty skimpy. Did Laura try to keep Matt’s memory alive for his son, or had too much anger gotten in the way?
“I played on a baseball team with your dad one year,” he commented as he buckled his seat belt and put the key in the ignition of his SUV. “You know, just for fun. Our team was made up of firefighters and police officers. You’re right, your dad was dynamite at first base. Hell of a hitter, too. I’d kind of forgotten.”