Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery 2)

“Hey, man,” Luka said, offering his hand.

Fiancé? Beckett had told him a while back that he and Amelia had broken up, but he’d never said a word about her becoming engaged. Sullivan returned a weak handshake. “Good to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Luka said then wrapped his arm back around Amelia.

It looked wrong. Sullivan only knew Beckett and Amelia together, but he forced himself to glance Clara’s way as she asked, “Do you remember our cousin, Penelope?”

He smiled. “Yes, of course, it’s nice to see you again, Penelope.” Every summer, her big city parents sent her to River Rock to spend with her cousins. Only last time Sullivan saw her she’d been a kid.

Penelope waved. “Hey, Sullivan.”

A beat passed. Clara finally took Mason by the shoulders. “Mason, you remember Sullivan, right?”

Mason nodded and took one look at Sullivan’s baseball glove, then those bright eyes flicked up again. “I got a glove like that.”

Sullivan released the breath caught in his throat. This, he could do, and do easily. “Why don’t you go grab it and we’ll throw some balls around?”

Mason’s eyes went huge before he whirled to Clara. “Can I, Mama?”

“Just ’til dinner,” she said, scuffing his hair.

She barely finished talking before Mason took off toward the shed. Clara laughed softly. “I think he secretly believes that playing ball with a professional baseball player makes him a professional too.”

Sullivan chuckled. “Nothing wrong with believing that.”

With Mason gone, the mood shifted and tension filled the air as Amelia and Maisie watched Sullivan closely. Penelope looked everywhere but at him. Everyone was on guard, waiting for him to fuck up.

Feeling like he was being squeezed from all directions, he rubbed the back of his neck, pushing past the churning in his stomach. “Listen, I get you’re all worried. I told Clara last night, but I’ll tell you now; I’m not trying to stir up trouble. I won’t make a wrong move here. If this isn’t a good thing, it ends. All right?”

Amelia’s tight expression relaxed. She leaned into Luka’s hold and replied, “All right.”

Sullivan glanced at Maisie, who stared at him like she could read all his intentions on his face. “All good?”

She finally blinked and then gave a firm nod. “Keep to that promise, and we’ll be fine.”

“Good. We’ve cleared that up,” Hayes said with a chipper voice. He gave Sullivan an approving hard slap on the back. “Now, let’s just enjoy the rest of the sunlight we’ve got today.”

And just like that, all the tension that lingered in the air vanished. Everyone went back to their conversations.

Clara moved closer to him, sniffing the flowers. “You remembered the daisies.”

“Hard to forget. You did have them everywhere,” he reminded her. She drew them on her binders, had stickers on her locker, and had them in jars all around her bedroom.

Before she could respond, Mason charged out of the shed, baseball glove in hand. “I’m ready!”

“Almost ready,” Sullivan said when Mason reached them. He grabbed the Boston Red Sox baseball hat tucked into his back pocket that he’d picked up earlier in the day. He sized it down then slid it onto Mason’s head. “Now you’re officially part of the Red Sox.”

“Cool.” Mason beamed.

Sullivan gave Clara a wink then headed off to the middle of the yard. He slid into his glove and turned around. “All right, buddy, show me how you throw.”

Mason whipped the ball across the lawn, remarkably far, right into Sullivan’s

glove.

Impressed by the kid—his son—Sullivan jogged over to Mason. He caught Clara and her sisters watching them intently as he settled in front of Mason again. “Wiggle out your feet a bit.” When Mason did as told, Sullivan added, “Yeah, that’s better. Turn just a little,” he instructed, gently adjusting Mason’s body posture. “There it is. That’s where you want your body to be. Don’t forget to keep your eyes on me.” Sullivan backed up a dozen steps then got into a catcher’s position. “Hit me with it,” he called.

And Mason did. Hard.