Zoey collapsed on the bench seat like a rag doll. Putting some distance between her and Sutton allowed her to breathe normally. The instant his hand brushed across her breast, it was as if dormant desire detonated and reminded her that she was woman who’d denied her own physical needs for more than a decade. Her breasts felt heavy and she hunched her shoulders to conceal an outline of extended nipples under the white bra and thin tank top.
She knew without a doubt she would be able to get along with Sutton as a friend and neighbor, but nothing beyond that. She had to be careful, very careful, not to succumb to his blatant sensuality that she was aware of but struggled to ignore whenever they shared the same space.
Zoey felt more in control of her body and emotions when Sutton set his coffee on the table and sat opposite her. Light from an overhead pendant illuminated the salt-and-pepper stubble on his recently shaved head. Reaching for the sugar bowl, she spooned two teaspoons into her cup, followed by a liberal splash of cream.
Zoey picked up the knife, cut a slice of cake, placed it on a dish and handed it to Sutton. “As my guest you get the first slice.”
Sutton took the dish, smiling. “It looks too pretty to eat. That’s what I used to say to my grandmother whenever she served dessert after Sunday dinner. Her comeback was, ‘Boy, stop jawing and eat the dadgum cake before I take it from you.’”
Laughing, Zoey cut a piece for herself. “Did she make the quintessential pound or coconut layer cake?”
“Those and many others. Granny Dot was known as the cake lady. I waited all week just to see which one she would make. Each one would become my favorite until the next. After a while I gave up altogether and decided all were equally delicious.”
“Did your grandmother ever enter her cakes in the Fourth of July bakeoff competition?” The celebration had been the highlight of Zoey’s childhood when Wickham Falls and neighboring towns turned out for the annual three-day festivities. Ripples of excitement were tangible with the arrival of food trucks and carnival rides, and the raising of tents, and it was the only time she and her brothers were allowed to stay out well beyond their bedtime.
“No. Granny said she didn’t need someone to judge her cakes, because she knew they were the best.”
“Talk about confidence.”
“That was something Granny never lacked. She’d warn me and my cousins that she would skin us alive if we did anything that would dishonor our ancestors. She’d mentioned the ancestors so often that I went looking for them. That’s when I got a history lesson from Granny about a time in our history when black people were enslaved for hundreds of years yet endured unspeakable acts so we could be free. She told me that my third great-grandmother was a conductor on the Underground Railroad that pieced quilts with designs that were hidden messages that served to guide runaways north to freedom. Her stories fired my imagination, and even before I enrolled in college, I knew I wanted to become a history major.”
“Baseball and history, Sutton?”
“It couldn’t get any better because I was able to indulge in both my passions.”
Zoey picked up a forkful of cake and took a bite, watching Sutton do the same. He had fulfilled his passion to play baseball and earn degrees in history, while she was still waiting to embrace hers. And his talking about his grandmother was a painful reminder that she hadn’t had the privilege of having known her grandparents.
Sutton finished his slice, set his fork beside the dish and touched a napkin to his mouth. “You’ve got the magic, Zoey.”
“Magic?” Her voice rose in surprise.
“Yes. Where did you learn to bake like this?”
Her smile was dazzling. “Charmaine taught me to cook. Her folks owned a restaurant in Morgantown, and by the time she was old enough to look over the prep table, she’d joined the rest of the family in the restaurant’s kitchen. When she was older she was entrusted with making pies and cakes.”
“She taught you well because you’re a definite cake lady.”
“Are you saying I’m as good as Granny Dot?”
“Yes. So, own it.”
Zoey put her palms together and bowed her head with Sutton’s compliment. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m certain if Sasha Manning had to judge a blind taste test with other strawberry shortcakes, she would select yours as the winner.”
Sasha Manning, like so many others who’d grown up in the Falls and left, had come back to open Sasha’s Sweet Shoppe. “I’m like your grandmother, Sutton. I’m not competitive.”
Sutton stared at the coffee in the delicate cup. “You’re not competitive, while I’ve spent more than half my life competing. It began with tryouts in high school and continued through college, then the minor and the major leagues. And I had to bring my A game to prove I wasn’t a fluke once I signed my first multimillion-dollar contract. Fans are fickle because they boo you when you’re in a slump and hail you as a conquering hero whenever you hit a walk-off home run.”
“Why do they call it a walk-off?”
Sutton smiled and attractive lines fanned out around his eyes. “The home team always has the field advantage of batting last whenever they’re losing or the score is tied. The bases can be empty or there can be men on base, and if the next batter hits a home run or gets a hit to score the runner, the opposing pitcher walks off the mound. Therefore, the term walk-off.”
“Which do you find more exciting? A walk-off or a grand slam?”
“So, you do follow baseball?”
Zoey managed to look insulted. “I never said I didn’t follow the game. The minute Harper comes home he turns on the television to the sports channel. The few times I watched with him I did see you hit some moon shots.”
“It was all in a night’s work.”
“There’s no need to be self-effacing, Beast.”
Sutton rolled his eyes upward. It had taken a while for him to accept the soubriquet when a popular sportscaster tagged him with the nickname after he hit home runs in four consecutive games.
“You didn’t like being called Beast?” Zoey questioned.
“Not really.”
“You were never comfortable being a celebrity.”
“Is that a question or an observation?”
Resting her elbow on the table, Zoey cupped her chin on the heel of her hand. “An observation, Sutton. I’ve seen you during interviews, and everything you said appeared measured, as if you’d been following a script. Hanging out with you now I see someone that is the opposite of the high-profile baseball phenom.”
Sutton was amazed at Zoey’s perceptiveness. It was as if he’d been two people in one body. There was the Beast for the fans and sportscasters and Sutton Alexander Reed for his family and close friends. Angell also capitalized on his fame once they were referred to as Beauty and the Beast.
He ran a hand over his face. “You’re right, Zoey, about having to create an alter ego for the public. I had to smile when I didn’t want to and be gracious to rabid fans from opposing teams who would occasionally throw things or spit at me. Becoming a mentor allowed me to be myself. I identified with those kids because most of them came from single-parent homes. I’d lecture them about setting realistic goals for themselves, because eight out of ten wanted to become rappers or play in the NBA. They’d look at me as if I’d taken leave of my senses when I reminded them of the number of rappers that end up in cemeteries, and those who didn’t were able to transition into other careers. Their eyes got big when I reminded them of the successful acting careers of LL Cool J, Ice-T, Ice Cube, Queen Latifah, Ludacris, Will Smith, and the list goes on and on. And if they were looking for a career in the NBA, then they had to stay in school, because scouts did not troll parks or playgrounds but high schools and colleges looking for the next Michael Jordan or LeBron James. Occasionally I’d invite drug counselors and life coaches to chair workshops about the risks of substance abuse and how to cope with problems that accompanied the result of becoming a baby daddy.”
Zoey lowered her hand. “You were more than a mentor. There’s no doubt they saw you as a father figure or even an older brother.”
Sutton wanted to remind Zoey that he wasn’t actually a father figure, but a sports hero and he had no way of knowing whether he had a biological brother. He drained his cup. “It’s getting late, so it’s best I head home.”
“I’m going to cut several slices of cake you can take home with you.”
“Miss Allen, are you trying to sabotage me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve managed to lose twenty pounds by eliminating sugar from my diet, but I have little or no willpower when it comes to homemade cake.”
“You run, so one slice a day shouldn’t wreck your diet.”
Sutton stood up and came around the table and eased Zoey off the bench seat. He cradled her face in his hands. “To avoid temptation, I will come over every day for a single slice of your incredibly delicious strawberry shortcake.” Lowering his head, he kissed the bridge of her nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow, cake lady.” He heard someone clear their throat and he turned to find Harper standing at the entrance to the kitchen, eyes as big as silver dollars.
“Mr. Reed, I… I told Jabari that you were going to coach me so I can try out for the basketball team and…and he said… He asked if he can join us.”
Sutton knew Harper was caught off guard when seeing him kiss his sister, but it wasn’t the time to reassure the kid that he did not plan to take advantage of her. “You can tell Jabari that I’ll look forward to his joining us.”
Harper stared at the floor. “I’ll call and tell him.” He turned on his heel and left.
“Sutton.”
“Zoey.” He smiled when they spoke at the same time. “I suppose Harper and I will have a man-to-man talk tomorrow.”
Zoey rested a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to bring it up if he doesn’t.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“It is what I want, Sutton.”
“Good night again.”
“I’ll walk you to the door.”
* * *
Zoey locked the outer and inner door and when she turned she saw Harper standing in the middle of the living room. “Are you in for the night?”
He took a step. “Yes. Is something going on between you and Mr. Reed?”
Her impassive expression did not change. “No. Mr. Reed and I are friends. Why?”
“Just asking.”
“Is that it?”
“Yup. I’m going to bed now. I have to get up early to run.”
Zoey hadn’t lied to her brother. She and Sutton were friends, and while she had to fight the feelings that made her want more than friendship, she knew nothing would become of it.
It had been ten long years since she’d shared her body not with a man but a boy who was just as inexperienced as she’d been. She’d kept waiting to experience the orgasms other girls bragged about, but they never came. Her boyfriend, who’d hinted he wanted to give her an engagement ring, had no way of knowing that she was relieved when he broke up with her because she could not have imagined being married to a man who failed to bring her to climax.
However, it was different with Sutton. Everything about him turned her on, while she’d perfected an air of indifference to the man who made her fantasize about making love with him. And based on her current emotional well-being, she could not afford to act on her fantasy. She’d planned out her life for the next two years, and there was no room for romance when it was her sole responsibility to shepherd Harper through high school and into college and nursing school for herself.
* * *
Sutton pulled into the driveway, shut off the engine and waited for Harper to exit the Jeep. “Are you getting out or do you want me to drive back to the track so we can jog some more?” It had been three days since the boy saw him kissing his sister and while he’d gone along with Zoey’s suggestion not to bring up the incident with Harper, it apparently had affected him because the teenager was practically monosyllabic.
“Mr. Reed, can we talk?”
Sutton shifted slightly, resting his right arm over the back of the passenger-side headrest. “Of course. What do you want to talk about?”
Harper stared out the side window. “You and my sister.”
A beat passed. “What about me and your sister?”
“Are you getting with her?”
Removing his arm, Sutton ran a hand over his face. He’d barely kissed Zoey, and it was on her nose, and now Harper was referring to his possibly sleeping with her. “No, Harper, I’m not getting with your sister. When you walked in on us I was kissing Zoey on her nose and not her mouth.” Harper turned to stare at him, a flush suffusing his golden-brown complexion, and Sutton successfully hid a grin once he realized he’d embarrassed the teenager.
“I didn’t know.”
Sutton gave Harper a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “It’s okay. And you didn’t have to wait three days to talk to me about something that’s been bothering you.”
Harper lowered his eyes. “Okay. But I need to know something else.”
“What is it?”
“Do you like Zoey?”
A hint of a smile tilted the corners of Sutton’s mouth as he stared out the Jeep’s windshield. It was obvious Harper was more than curious about him and his sister. “Like her how?”
Harper exhaled a breath. “Like her enough to take her out.”
Sutton wanted to tell him that it was a no-brainer. Despite having a wager with Zoey that he would take her out if Harper made the basketball team, there was no guarantee it would happen. Everything about Zoey appealed to him and he looked forward to the opportunity whenever they were able to spend time together.
“Yes, I would like to take her out.”
“Mr. Reed, I want you to promise me you’re not going to mess over my sister. When Kyle left to join the marines, he told me that I was now the man of the house and that I had to look out for Zoey.”
Sutton smiled, and wanted to remind Harper it was the other way around. Zoey was responsible for him, but he didn’t want to bruise the boy’s ego while applauding that he’d thought of himself as her protector. “I’m going to tell you something—man-to-man. I don’t mess over women and that means I’ll never deliberately hurt your sister. And that is something you should never do with girls.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Reed,” Harper countered quickly. “I’ve seen boys at school do things to girls that just ain’t right.”
“I’m glad you recognize when it’s not right.”
Harper pressed a fist to his mouth. “I know that I sometimes give Zoey a hard time, but I do know how far to push her.”
“Why do you feel the need to push her?”
“I hate it when she treats me like a little kid.”
“You may not be little, Harper, but you are a kid in the legal sense. You’re still in school and there’s no way you’ll be able to get a decent job that will pay you enough to live the way you do now even if you lived on your own. And what if you need a vehicle to get to work? Where is that extra money coming from if you are only making minimum wage? My advice is not to talk back and to follow house rules.”
“Is that what you did, Mr. Reed?”
“Oh yeah. There was just me and Mom and it wasn’t easy for her to raise a son on her own, and once I got to high school I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything to make life harder for her. And that meant not breaking curfew and asking permission to use her car.”
Harper frowned. “Were you some kind of freak?”
“No. I was respectful, Harper,” Sutton countered. “If you don’t respect yourself, then no one will respect you. I’ve mentored a lot of boys that are around your age who don’t respect themselves.”
“Where did they live?”
“Some were in juvenile detention centers and others in group homes. Once they felt comfortable enough with me to talk about themselves, I realized they’d believed what was in the streets was better than what they’d had at home. This is not to say some of them didn’t come from homes where abuse was evident.”
“Did you like being a mentor?”
Sutton mulled over Harper’s question because he didn’t want to lie to him. “Yes and no. Yes, because there were occasions when I was able to get through to a young man and convince him to turn his life around, but then there were others that were impossible to reach.”
“What happened to them, Mr. Reed?”
“It was either prison or an early grave.”
“Damn!” Harper drawled under his breath.
Harper’s damn was mild compared with what he’d said whenever he’d heard the news that one of his mentees had been murdered or charged with a felony. It had taken several years for him to realize he couldn’t save every kid, and that’s when he was able to accept his success on the ball field did not carry over to his role as a mentor.
A text message appeared on the phone attached to the dashboard. “The basketball hoop is schedule to be delivered tomorrow afternoon.”
Harper’s hazel eyes were shimmering with excitement. “Can I call Jabari and tell him to come over tomorrow?”
“Not yet,” Sutton cautioned. “I want to see your skills before we invite someone else to join us.”
“No problem, Mr. Reed.” Harper opened his door. “I’ll see you later.”
Sutton watched Harper walk in the direction of his house. The first day of his alternating walking and jogging around the track at the high school, Harper was barely able to clock two miles, and Sutton reassured him that after a while he would build up enough stamina to increase the distance. And he reminded him if he wanted to make the basketball team, then not only would he have to run the length of the court while dribbling, but also accurately shoot while in motion to make the basket.
He exited the Jeep and went into the rental, removed the pedometer strapped to his upper arm and headed for the bathroom. The hoop was scheduled to arrive the next day, which meant he had to buy a pump and several basketballs.
* * *
Zoey left a sticky note on the kitchen countertop telling Harper she would be out of the house for a while before carrying the last of four boxes filled with clothes Harper and Kyle no longer wore or fit to the minivan to transport them to the local church. Harper was at least two inches taller than his older brother, and still growing, which meant he couldn’t wear Kyle’s hand-me-downs. She’d washed, dried and placed them in labeled boxes with their contents for the church’s outreach program. Volunteers had advertised they needed gently used tees, jeans, sweaters, jackets, coats and hoodies that would be distributed to needy families before the onset of the new school year.
Her plan included dropping off the boxes, stopping by A Stitch at a Time to talk to Georgina about her knitting project, and then going to Powell’s to pick up her online order. She’d managed to get Harper to sit with her as they researched the department store’s website to select what he wanted to wear. In the past she would take her brothers to the store and spend what had felt like hours going through racks of shirts, pants and jackets and then sitting outside the fitting rooms while they tried them on.
Powell’s, like many brick-and-mortar stores, had a website for consumers to order online for shipping or a local pickup. Harper had selected jeans, hoodies and short-and long-sleeved tees. The store also had a special section dedicated to the local school’s sports paraphernalia.
It had only been days, but Zoey had noticed a marked change in Harper’s personality since he’d begun running with Sutton. He came home in time to eat dinner with her and didn’t ask to go out again. She didn’t have to remind him to pick up his clothes or not eat in his bedroom, and she knew his interacting with Sutton was responsible for the overt change in her brother’s behavior. Harper had to have realized he’d been given a pass once Sutton let him off for attempting to steal his vehicle and sought to make amends by adhering to the conditions Sutton had imposed.
She thought of Sutton’s moving in next door as a blessing and a curse. A blessing because of his impact with the changes in her brother and a curse because of the increase in activity along their street. And most of the motorists were women hoping to catch a glimpse of Sutton going into or leaving his house. A few of the bolder ones sat in their vehicles with their engines idling until someone called the sheriff’s department to complain about suspicious people lurking on their block. A deputy did follow up on the complaint and cautioned those who did not live on Marshall Street not to loiter there.
Zoey would watch Sutton’s reaction to women screaming they want to marry him, but at no time did he appear affected by the attention. He would smile and wave, and if approached by a child he would autograph a shirt or scrap of paper. He had been touted as one of baseball’s nice guys and it was apparent he hadn’t changed even after he’d retired from the game.
She started up the minivan, backed out of the driveway and groaned inwardly when she heard a rattling coming from under the hood. She made a mental note to call Austen & Sons Auto for an appointment to check out the vehicle while she was still on vacation.
Zoey had made it a practice to save a portion of her salary to add to her nursing school tuition and what she called her rainy day fund, and it appeared as if she would have to dip into it to make repairs on the minivan or use it as a down payment for a low-mileage used car. Over the years she’d become astute in budgeting her income.
She’d used the death benefits from her father’s and Charmaine’s life insurance to pay off the mortgage on the house, and subsequently sold her father’s tractor trailer and deposited the money into the account for her nursing school tuition. She no longer received survivor’s benefits for Kyle, and once Harper turned eighteen his benefits would also end.
However, thanks to the generosity of the residents of Wickham Falls and some from Mineral Springs, Harper would not have to apply for financial aid to attend college. Kyle’s decision to forfeit his half of the college fund because he would use the military’s education benefit afforded Harper more options when it came to choosing an institution of higher learning. Zoey was slightly surprised once her youngest brother announced that he did not want to attend an out-of-state school, but commute to and from classes. She had come to believe the older Harper became the more he reminded her of Charmaine. Not only had he inherited his late mother’s complexion, curly hair and eye color, but he was also a homebody. When he wasn’t hanging out with Jabari, he could always be found at home. The exception had been when he’d gone to Mineral Springs to drink beer, and she hoped that was behind him.
She made it to the church and rang the bell to the outreach office. One of the workers answered the door and unloaded the boxes from the van’s cargo area, thanking her profusely for the donation. Her next stop was the needlecraft shop before she went to Powell’s to pick up her online purchase.