Mark’s “roots” had been a tiny house crowded with his dad and brother, living hand to mouth. A one-way road for Mark as he grew up. A road to trouble.
Ramon gestured to the shiny truck in the driveway. “New?”
“You know damn well it is,” Mark said. “It’s the truck I bought for you for your birthday, and you had it sent back to me.”
“Hmm,” Ramon said noncommittally, possibly the most stubborn man on the planet. Mark knew his dad was proud of him, but he’d have been even more proud if Mark had stuck around and become a gardener too. Ramon had never understood Mark not living here in Santa Rey, using it as a home base.
“You should come home more often,” Ramon said.
“I told you I wouldn’t be able to come during the season.”
“Bah. What kind of a job keeps a son from his home and family.”
“The kind that makes him big bucks,” Rick said.
They moved through the small living room and into the kitchen. “If you’d use the season tickets I bought you,” Mark told his dad. “You could see me whenever you wanted.”
“I saw you on TV breaking up that fight. You nearly took a left hook from that Ducks player. Getting soft?” He jabbed Mark’s abs, then smiled. “Okay, maybe not. Come home, hijo, and stay. You’ve got all the money you could need now, yes? Come settle down, find someone to love you.”
“Dad.”
“I’m getting old. I need nietos to spoil.”
Rick rolled his eyes and muttered, “Here we go. The bid for grandkids.”
“Someone to take care of you,” Ramon said, and smacked Rick on the back of the head.
“I take care of myself,” Mark said. And about a hundred others.
Ramon sighed. “I suppose it’s my fault. I harp on you about walking away from your humble beginnings and culture, and I divorced your mother when you were only five. Bad example.”
“I’ve never walked away from my beginnings, Dad. I just have a job that requires a lot of traveling. And Mom divorced you. You drove her batshit crazy.” His father was an incredibly hard worker, and incredibly old world in his sensibilities. He’d driven his ambitious, wannabe actress wife off years ago.
The living room was empty except for two beautiful potted plants. Same with the kitchen, though the cabinet doors were glass, revealing plates and cups on the shelves. “Where’s the furniture? I sent money, and you’ve been back in this house for what, a few weeks now?”
“I liked my old furniture.”
“I know, but it’s all gone. You got out with the clothes on your back.” Mark still shuddered to think how close he’d come to losing his dad.
“I’ll get furniture eventually, as I find what suits me. Let’s eat. You can tell me about your women.”
There was only one at the moment, the one with the flashing eyes, a smart-ass mouth, and heart of gold. The one who still showed her every thought as it came to her. That had terrified him once upon a time.
Now it intrigued him.
His father was at the refrigerator, pulling out ingredients. “We’ll have grilled quesadillas for dinner. It’s a warm night. We’ll sit on the patio.”
“I’ll take you out to dinner,” Mark said.
“No, I’m not spending any more of your money. What if you get fired over this fight mess? Then you’ll be broke. Save your money.”
“I won’t get fired, Dad. The players are working hard, making restitution.”
“So you won’t have to suspend them?”
“No, which is good since they’ve got more talent in their pinkie fingers than my entire line of offense, and I have a hot offense.”
Ramon nodded his agreement to this. “The press has been relentless on you.”
Rick nodded. “You were flashed on Entertainment Tonight with a woman from some reality show.”
“That was a promo event,” Mark said. “I told you, I don’t need someone else to take care of right now.”
“Love isn’t a burden, hijo. You really think it’ll soften you, make you that vulnerable?”
Mark sent his brother a feel-free-to-jump-in-here-and-redirect-the-conversation-at-any-time look, but Rick just smirked, enjoying himself. “What happened to cooking?” Mark asked desperately.
“Your brother has someone,” Ramon pointed out, not to be deterred.
Rick smiled smugly.
“You could at least have a home here in Santa Rey,” his dad said. “And then maybe a family.”
Mark sighed. “We’re not going to agree on this issue.”
“We would if you’d get over yourself. Chicken or carne quesadilla?”
No one in his world ever told Mark to get over himself. Instead they tripped over their feet to keep him happy. He supposed he should be thankful for the reminder to be humble. “Carne.”
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, both James and Casey were ready to roll right on time. They were dressed for construction work and had a coffee for Mark.
Nice to know they could still suck up with the best of them. He wondered if either of them had talked the other out of bailing, but he didn’t really give a shit. As long as they were still here, willing to put in the time and maybe even learn something, he was good.
They worked until afternoon, showered, then attended the rec center’s staff meeting, per Rick’s request. This was held in a conference room, aka pre-school room, aka makeshift dance studio. Everyone sat at a large table, including Rainey, who didn’t look directly at Mark. He knew that because he was looking directly at her.
Rick ran a surprisingly tight ship considering how laid-back he was. Assignments were passed out, the budget dealt with, and the sports schedule handled. When it came to that schedule and what was expected of Mark’s players, Rick once again made it perfectly clear that Rainey was in charge.
Mark looked across the table and locked eyes with Rainey. He arched a brow and she flushed, but she definitely stared at his mouth before turning back to Rick attentively.
She was thinking about the kiss.
That made two of them. This was Mark’s third time seeing her, and she was still a jolt on his system.
He realized that Rick and Rainey were speaking. Then Rainey stood up to reveal a poster that would be placed around town. It advertised the upcoming youth sports calendar and other events such as their biweekly
