Free Covering Home by Heidi McCahan Page B

my performance on the field, I’d eat here every day.”
    “Speaking of performance, I thought you looked great out there tonight.”
    A storm cloud of emotions rolled across his face.
    “Thanks.” He stared at the table, threading a straw wrapper between his fingers.
    “Listen.” Britt paused, hoping he’d meet her gaze. “I’m here as your friend, complimenting your first trip back to the mound. Seriously, you played well.”
    He looked up. The creases between his eyebrows softened. “Thank you. Sometimes it’s hard to differentiate between Britt the sportscaster and Britt the normal person.”
    “What are you trying to say? Broadcasters aren’t normal?”
    He looked away, shifting in his chair. “That’s not what I meant.”
    Britt took a long sip of her diet soda and let him stew in his discomfort for a minute. Setting the cup down on the table, she smiled. “I’m teasing you. My friends accuse me of interrogating them all the time. Occupational hazard, I guess.”
    “Maybe it’s my turn to ask you a few questions.”
    “Hmm, maybe. Ask away.” She shrugged, feigning indifference. Somehow she had to steer the conversation back around to what happened on the field tonight.
    “Beach or mountains?”
    She faltered. “Excuse me?”
    He propped his elbows on the table. “You know, when you go on vacation—not that you broadcasters make time for that—but if you did, would you choose the beach or the mountains?”
    “Wow, that’s a great first question, even if you did imply that I work too much. I grew up going to the beach, but my dad loves to ski and made sure we all learned … I’d have to say the beach.”
    Caleb hung his head in mock disappointment. “That’s so unfortunate.”
    Britt crumpled up a napkin and tossed it at him. “Why?”
    He deflected the napkin with his broad hand. “Gritty sand everywhere, sticky sunscreen and, unless you’re into surfing, you just lie there. How boring is that?”
    Her mouth dropped open. “Boring? What’s a vacation for if you can’t relax? The mountain trips are too much work: hiking gear and mountain bikes in the summer, snow skis and four layers of clothing in the winter. Nobody ever wants to sit still and read a book. It’s exhausting.”
    “I’m sure you hauled all that gear yourself, right?”
    It was her turn squirm in her chair. “Not really. We had people who helped us with that.”
    “That’s what I thought. There’s no way Max Bowen’s family schleps their own skis to Tahoe.”
    “It’s Vail or Park City, actually.” Britt couldn’t help but smile. Their playful banter stirring something deep within her. Caleb’s witty sense of humor was intriguing, such a contrast to the serious demeanor she’d encountered so far.
    “Of course. Why mingle with the commoners in Tahoe, right?”
    “Very funny. You mock us, but I’m sure you’ve enjoyed some great escapes, too. Where does a successful professional athlete, who happens to hate the beach, go to get away from it all?”
    Caleb smiled and stared out the window for a minute. “If I want to get away from civilization, fly-fishing in Montana hits the spot. But my favorite family vacation was a canoe and backpacking trip we took to Minnesota when Ben and I were still in high school. The mosquitoes tried to take us down, but we had a great time.”
    “Eight boys on a camping trip?” Britt grimaced. “Your mother’s a saint.”
    “She loved every minute of it. I think she had more fun than my dad. He couldn’t quit worrying about the ranch.”
    Britt watched his smile fade. “Do you miss it?”
    Caleb’s eyes widened. “Minnesota?”
    “No, the ranch.”
    “Sometimes. It’s a ton of work. Even with most of my brothers helping, it weighs on my folks a lot. But it’s what they’ve always done. I can’t imagine my dad doing anything else.”
    “Do you think you’ll go back?”
    Caleb swiped at a ring of condensation on the table. “I’d like to. Baseball has been