Out of His League. Cathryn Parry
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was still murmuring into her phone, in a low voice. She was flustered and out of her element with her nephew and him in the house. While she spoke on the phone, she glanced nervously at them, then opened her refrigerator and stared inside.
Jon smiled quietly at Brandon. His experience bringing up rambunctious younger brothers had taught him that if he acted calm, they were more likely to follow his lead and act calm, too.
“So you’re staying here for the night?” he asked Brandon.
The child nodded. “Do you want to see my room?”
“In a minute. For now, I’m wondering why you’re not in your pajamas. It’s pretty late. Do you have school tomorrow?”
Brandon brightened. “I didn’t go today, but Auntie is driving me tomorrow. I’m going to tell everybody I met you.”
“You can do that. But you know, it would really make me happy if you made things easy on your aunt. She works hard. Did you know she took care of a problem with my catching hand today?” Jon held up his bandage.
The kid looked awestruck. Jon’s wound did look impressive, all wrapped up like Frankenstein’s finger. It throbbed, too, but he was going to overlook that for now.
“It’s important you sit still and not bump it,” he told Brandon. “That way it will heal properly. Do you think you can do that?”
Brandon’s eyes widened. “Are you on the D.L?”
Disabled list. Jon smiled to himself. Yeah, this kid was a baseball fan. “I wish. That would mean the season wasn’t over for us yet.”
“I wish the season wasn’t over yet, too. Because then you could get tickets for us. We could sit in the players’ box and watch you pitch, couldn’t we? We could be on TV.”
“Ah...” The kid was a live wire, that was for sure. Jon stood and motioned for Brandon to follow. Jon would do this small act to help her, and then he would leave. Now that he knew Brandon was probably okay, he was feeling much better. “Let’s get you into your pajamas so you can eat dinner and go right to bed afterward for your aunt. Does your mom like you to take a bath at night, or do you do that in the morning?”
“I take a shower in the morning,” Brandon said. “But I don’t have my toothbrush with me. I forgot it.”
“We’ll add one to your aunt’s shopping list. What kind of toothpaste do you like?”
“The blue kind.”
“What’s that? Bubble-gum flavor?”
“Excuse me, Mr. Farell, but the five minutes is over and you’re going to have to leave now.”
He and Brandon stopped talking and stared over at Lizzy.
You’re in my bathroom, she mouthed to Jon, obviously annoyed.
Yeah, he was. But if anybody needed help with the boy, she did. Maybe it was time she removed that bug she carried up her butt.
Slowly, Jon straightened to his full height. “Brandon’s going to get into his pajamas for you, and I’m gonna take your shopping list and grab us all something for dinner. Then I’ll get out of your hair. Is that okay with you?”
She pulled him angrily aside, out of earshot from Brandon. He got that he was overstepping his bounds, and that she was probably going to throw him out the door, into the hallway.
Still, he rather enjoyed the feeling of her palm, curled into a fistful of fabric from his T-shirt and pulling him around the corner into her...bedroom.
It was Spartan. Too Spartan. A plain cotton comforter, beige walls, miniblinds. Not a throw pillow in sight. No television. No comforts or interesting things to look at. Certainly no silk ties, lubricant or sex toys...
“I,” she said, jabbing a finger to his chest, “can take care of my own nephew. Alone.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you can. All I’m doing is helping you.”
“Auntie?” Brandon said, standing plaintively in the doorway.
“In a minute, Brandon. The adults are busy having a conversation.” She shut the door.
He raised a brow at her. “I’m not up for it tonight, Lizzy. I’m still under the weather from all that anesthesia you pumped into my system this morning.”
She gasped. Her face went bright red.
He winked at her. “Kidding. I never sleep with women on the first date, much less women with kids. It sets a bad example.”
“He is my nephew!”
Interesting reaction. She wasn’t denying him access to her bed, just correcting his misstatement about son versus nephew. He would remember that.
“Yep, got it,” he said. “Never in front of the kids.”
She shook her head, obviously flustered. He loved seeing her with her hair messed up like that. He was willing to bet that in her starched-up world, people didn’t tease her. They didn’t come into her house and help her. And they certainly never made it over the threshold into her bedroom.
She ran her hands through her glossy hair. She really was a natural beauty. Lots of players had wives or girlfriends from the television reporting or modeling worlds—typically brassy women who, when all decked out and made-up, were eye-catching and flashy.
That wasn’t Lizzy. He was taken by an urge to draw her close to him. But...that would be a huge mistake.
Don’t push it, something told him. Get too close to her, and she’ll throw you out for good.
He didn’t want her to throw him out. So he hung back, waiting. Kept his hands glued to his side. Didn’t say a word. Let her know that he wasn’t a threat to her.
Finally, a sigh shuddered out of her. “Look, Jon, I have a downstairs neighbor who brings in my deliveries sometimes so they don’t get lost,” she said, like a confession. “She is elderly and doesn’t walk well, so she’s usually at home. I called and asked her to watch Brandon for me while I ran out to the store, but she just called back and said she doesn’t want him down there, bothering her, because she’s watching the baseball game. She doesn’t want to come up here and watch him, either, even if he’s waiting quietly in my bedroom, because I don’t have an HD television.”
“Seriously?”
“I know.” She rolled her eyes. “Who needs high-definition television to watch baseball?”
“Maybe she has a crush on the pitcher.”
A noise burst out of Lizzy, something between a giggle and a snort. She clamped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late.
Aha. So his studious, buttoned-up anesthesiologist had a fun streak in her after all. It was just buried, layers and layers deep.
“Give me your shopping list,” he said gently. “I’ll take care of it. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me. I don’t want you buying things for us. And also...” Lizzy gestured to his bandaged hand. “Did you not read your postoperative instructions? You aren’t supposed to be driving, not with the medication you’re on. I won’t be responsible for that.”
“I’m not on medication,” he said quietly. “Just acetaminophen.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Then you’re in pain.”
Maybe, a little bit.
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to chance messing with my health by taking heavy drugs like that. My body is how I make my living.”
She rolled her eyes again.
He grinned at her. “Lizzy?” he said, at the same time that Brandon whined plaintively through the door, “Auntie?”
Jon