Free Part-Time Wife by Susan Mallery Page A

practice and have dinner," Jill said. "You've had your snack already."
    Danny eyed the sliced loaf on the counter. "But it was good."
    "I'm glad you liked the prune bread. I—"
    She stopped talking when she realized all three boys were staring at her. Their eyes widened and their mouths opened.
    C.J. recovered first. " Prune bread?"
    "Yes."
    He fell to his knees and started choking. "I'm dying, I'm dying."
    Ben followed his lead and dropped to the floor. He writhed in agony. "Prunes. Yuck. She's poisoning us."
    Danny stared at his brothers, then her. He wasn't certain who he wanted to side with. Jill ignored his older brothers.
    "Don't worry about it," she said. "It was delicious before you knew what it was. It's still delicious. Let's go outside and practice."
    She held out her hand. Danny grabbed her fingers. They started for the door. "I know how many slices there were," she called over her shoulder. "So don't even think about sneaking any."
    It was warmer today, but still sweatshirt weather. The sky was a brilliant
California
blue. Tall trees reached for the heavens. The green leaves seemed brighter in the afternoon light, or maybe it was her mood. There was nothing like taking care of three boys to give her something other than herself to think about. Jill wondered if that was part of her problem. She'd had too much free mental time on her hands.
    By the time she'd dug out a couple of mitts and a bat, the other two boys had joined them. She didn't comment on Ben's appearance, not wanting to make a big deal of it, but in her heart, she was pleased he wanted to participate.
    She tossed them mitts, then found a couple of big plastic balls that wouldn't go far, and wouldn't do any damage if they hit something. Ben came over and took them from her. "I'll pitch," he said.
    He'd pulled on a baseball cap. It hid most of his dark hair from view. He wore a loose sweatshirt and jeans. Her heart ached for him. She'd been out of place at home, but at least she'd been able to fit in at school. Ben carried his pain with him everywhere.
    She gave him a quick smile and gently touched his cheek. He stiffened at the contact but didn't pull away. His dark gaze met hers. Some emotion flickered there. She couldn't read it, but she knew it was hurting him. She wanted to pull him close and hug him until he felt better, but she didn't have the right. Even if she did, Ben wouldn't let her. He was as prickly as a porcupine.
    "Batter up," he called, moving to the center of the yard.
    There was more room in the front than in the back, so that was where they played. Jill stayed in the background, filling in where she was needed. C.J. was fast and talented, with the grace of a natural athlete. Ben had the same raw ability, but his weight slowed him down. He could pitch with perfect precision, but he got winded if he tried to run the bases. Even six-year-old Danny could catch him.
    Jill stared at the youngest of Craig Haynes's boys. Danny stood hunched over his bat, his face scrunched up in concentration. Ben released the ball. Danny swung and missed.
    "Keep your eyes open," C.J. called from the outfield.
    "I am."
    "Then hit the dumb ball."
    "I'm tryin'." Frustration filled Danny's voice, but he didn't give up. He tossed the ball back to Ben and hunched over again.
    "Is he standing right?" she asked, coming up to stand behind him. "Maybe it's his shoulders."
    Danny looked at her and grimaced. "It's not my shoulders. Ben and C.J. are better than me."
    "They're also older and have had more practice. You're going to make it. You're determined, and sometimes that's more important than raw talent."
    He beamed, then hunched over. Jill moved back and studied him. He didn't have his brothers' dark hair or eyes. He must take after his mother. Despite having checked on the cleaning crew while they worked and going into all the bedrooms to put clean laundry on the beds, she hadn't seen a picture of the boys' mother. While she was curious about Krystal Haynes,