I rest my head on the seat front and sigh.

How many times a week am I going to see this man? And will I be just as flappable with every interaction?

He motions for the kids to circle around him, and they do it happily. Ethan stands near the back of the group with another kid’s hand dangling over his shoulder. His cheeks are red from the cold as he watches Cole with rapt attention.

He’s how I’m going to endure it.

Ethan deserves it.

My heart swells as I watch my son nod at something Cole says. I smile when Ethan’s head falls back and he laughs right along with the team. I sink into my seat and give a whisper of thanks when he looks my way and beams, joy rolling off him in waves.

I’ll do anything for that kid, even if it means avoiding a rendezvous with Cole Beck.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

COLE

Dinner was great, Mom.” I put the last plate back in the cabinet and toss the towel on the counter. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Some things never change,” Dad jokes as he takes his cup of coffee into the living room.

Mom dries her hands on the edge of her apron. “I’m probably going to pull back from it just a little bit since I know I have you for another month. I need to pace myself.”

I laugh.

“When are you having practice again? I’d love to come watch you in action. Mary Beth Goheen said you were a natural,” Mom says.

“Why was she there? I know she doesn’t have a little kid.”

“Well . . . she might have been walking by and saw you out there.”

The twinkle in her eye tells me enough. I don’t want to know if my mom’s sixty-year-old friend has the hots for me.

It’s happened before. It changes the dynamic when I see them at the post office.

“I’m giving them tomorrow off. Don’t want to burn them out right away,” I say. “It’s supposed to be warmer the day after anyway.”

“This weather is crazy. Warm one day and cold the next. That’s Ohio for you.”

“That’s one thing I won’t miss.”

Her smile falters. “Yes, well, let’s not talk about that. I don’t want to think about you not being here.”

I give her a smile that’s supposed to make her feel better but I think only makes her feel worse. So I do the only other thing I can and pull her into a tight hug.

She pats my back and then presses her palms into my back like she did when I was a little kid. Despite her five-foot-one-inch height and her feather-like weight, her embrace calms the center of my body, which has been buzzing all day.

I don’t let go because she doesn’t.

“I heard through the grapevine that you had a pretty animated conversation with Palmer Clark today,” she says, finally pulling away.

At the sound of Palmer’s name, the fog in my head clears.