The Christmas Proposition

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“A lot of people think it’s crazy for me to have an animal that big when I live in a condo,” she continued. “But once I saw him, I couldn’t imagine getting a different breed.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” Okay, so they were talking about a dog. At least they were talking.

“He’ll be excited to see you,” Rachel said.

Will you be excited to see me? Instead of asking, Derek took a bite of brownie and reminded himself that Saturday wasn’t about him and Rachel; it was about Mickie. He needed to keep that in mind before he did something he’d regret.

Something like forgetting he was supposed to be girlfriend-free for the next six months.

“I’m ready to go.” Mickie twirled around in Rachel’s small living room, while Fred sat in the doorway watching her.

Rachel smiled. Addie loved to twirl and had shown Mickie how it was done when they’d been at Mary Karen’s house.

“Honey, it’s only eleven.” Rachel glanced down at her watch just to be sure. “Eleven-oh-six to be exact. It takes less than ten minutes to get there. Besides, I still have some picking up to do.”

Although Rachel normally kept her apartment spic and span, this week she and Mickie had done more socializing than cleaning.

“I understand.” Mickie stopped twirling long enough to kiss the top of Fred’s head. “You don’t want Mr. Rossi to think you live in a pigsty.”

Rachel chuckled. “Do you even know what a pigsty is?”

“A messy house,” Mickie said promptly. “That’s what the social workers always called my aunt and uncle’s home. But their place was a zillion times worse.”

“Thanks.” Rachel scooped up a newspaper she’d left on the sofa. “I guess.”

She couldn’t believe Derek was coming over for lunch. If Mickie hadn’t arranged the lesson, Rachel doubted she’d have seen him again.

Her lips quirked up in a wry smile. Of course, given her luck, their paths would have crossed again.

“Do you like Mr. Rossi?” Mickie called out, mid-twirl.

Rachel paused, dust cloth in hand. “He seems like a good guy. Why do you ask?”

“When we were at the sports facility, you were nice to him.” Mickie stopped twirling. “But not at Mrs. Vaughn’s home.”

Rachel pulled her brows together. Surely that wasn’t true. She’d been embarrassed by her behavior in the bedroom, but that whole incident had been her fault, not his.

“You acted like you hated him,” Mickie continued. “I could tell it made him feel bad.”

Rachel’s heart dropped. “You think so?”

Mickie nodded with such decisiveness that Rachel’s heart dropped even lower. “Maybe if you’re extra nice to him today he’ll know you don’t hate him.”

“That’s a good idea.”

The child smiled and once again began to twirl.

Chapter Five

Derek had been so focused on showing a young boy how to throw a slider that he couldn’t say for sure when Rachel and Mickie had entered the Indoor Sports Facility. All he knew was when the boy and his dad walked off, he caught sight of them leaning against the wall.

When he met Rachel’s gaze she surprised him with a friendly smile. After the kisses in the bedroom, the interaction between them had been strained and he’d worried he’d damaged their budding friendship.

He returned Mickie’s wave and made his way across the gym floor, hoping all was forgiven and forgotten. He really would like to be Rachel’s friend.

“Hi, there!” he called out as he drew close.

“Good morning,” Rachel said, then glanced up at the large clock on the wall. “Or rather, good afternoon.”

“Hi, Mr. Rossi.” Mickie hurried to his side with a speed that surprised him. Once there, she tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t forget you’re coming for lunch. We’re having grilled cheese sandwiches.”

For a second Derek got the impression that the child was more excited about the lunch than the lesson. But that was crazy.

“I haven’t forgotten.” He shot her a reassuring smile. “Lunch. After the lesson.”

“I’m curious.” Rachel glanced around the gym. “Since Mickie has never played before, where do you begin?”

Today Rachel had pulled her hair back in a ponytail and dressed simply in jeans, a red sweater with silver threads and sneakers. Even though she didn’t appear to be wearing makeup, she had to be because her lips were almost as red as her sweater. He couldn’t help remembering how sweet those lips had tasted.

With great effort Derek pulled his attention back to the matter at hand. “We start with the basics. Like how to grip a ball. Then, I thought she could throw the ball to you while I coach her on her stance and technique.”

“I don’t have anything to put on my hand.” Mickie raised her left arm and wiggled her fingers as if showing off her bright pink polish.

Derek tilted his head. Sometimes little girls could be very confusing creatures.

“She doesn’t have a glove,” Rachel clarified. “We were running late and by the time I remembered, we were almost here.”

“Rachel had to make sure the house was clean for you,” Mickie added.

Derek swore he heard Rachel groan. He hid a smile.

“I’m so sorry,” Rachel said. “Here you go out of your way to help and—”

“No worries.” Derek lifted his hand in a dismissive wave. “We have plenty of gloves kicking around here. And she’s not the only one who’ll need one. Because Mickie will be throwing to you, you’ll need one as well.”

“Me?” Rachel’s voice rose, then cracked. “I haven’t had a glove on since college. And that was only intramural softball.”

“You’ll do fine,” Derek said. “After all, today is all about learning and having fun.”

Rachel reminded herself that she was throwing a ball to a ten-year-old, not trying out for the major leagues. “All right, then. Let’s play ball.”

He shot Rachel and approving smile, then refocused on Mickie.

“Lesson number one.” Derek held up the ball in his hand. “The best way to grip a ball is across the seams.”

He held it out so both Mickie and Rachel could see. “And when you hold it, try to keep the ball out on your fingertips, not up against your palm.”

“Why?” Mickie asked as he flipped the ball to her.

The girl caught the ball easily, but struggled to get a good grip.

“Holding it the proper way helps your speed and accuracy when you throw,” he said.

Derek stepped forward, positioned the ball in Mickie’s hand, then ran backward while slipping on his glove. He punched the pocket with his fist. “Throw it here.”

She lifted her hand and with a stiff arm tossed it to him. It went far to his left, but he easily snagged it.

“Good effort.” He moved to her side and showed her how to cock her wrist back and use it as part of the throwing motion.

Once the girl had a good start on that skill, he gave both of them gloves and had Mickie throw the ball to Rachel. While the child threw, Derek coached her on her stance.

Thankfully Rachel had no problems catching the balls. Mickie improved with each throw and showed definite potential. Oddly, she seemed more interested in talking about all of Rachel’s wonderful attributes than in paying attention to her throwing technique.

“My stomach is growling,” Mickie said when only a half hour had passed.

Derek motioned to Rachel.

“Mickie is hungry,” he said when she drew close.

“Mr. Rossi is hungry, too,” Mickie protested.

“You’re right.” He smiled at the child. “I am.”

“How does grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato basil soup sound?” Rachel asked. “Be honest. We want you to be happy.”