Page 31 of Return

Dean turned onto Victor’s street, already smiling to himself. The firepit would be going before the sun disappeared. Victor was predictable that way.

The minute the temperature dipped below seventy at the end of summer or climbed above freezing after a long winter, his friend declared it firepit weather. It didn’t matter if it was April or October. If there was the slightest chill in the air, Victor was determined to spend it sitting next to a crackling fire.

Victor was like a kid on Christmas morning when it came to firepits. And of course, no Victor firepit was complete without hot dogs, mountain pies, and enough marshmallows to feed a small army.

It was actually Victor who’d introduced him to mountain pies back when they’d still been teammates. A city boy, Dean didn’t have a clue there was such a thing, though he had to admit he was a big fan now. Victor had patiently taught him how to butter one side of two slices of white bread before sandwiching fillings inside. Afterward, they clamped the pie irons shut, nestling them against the edge of the flames, flipping from time to time.

Dean had barely made it out of the locker room after practice today before Victor cornered him with an invitation to join them tonight.

“Belle’s picking up supplies,” Victor had announced. “Six-thirty. Come hungry.”

Dean, who’d had zero interest in going home and eating alone, had accepted without hesitation. Now, as he pulled into the driveway, he spotted a small figure wearing a glittery rainbow-colored helmet, standing beside a pink bicycle near the garage.

Pip.

He frowned, suddenly regretting that he hadn’t asked Victor who else would be attending. To be honest, he wasn’t surprised by that failing. His head had been in the clouds the past five days.

Ever since he’d followed Vivian back to her house and engaged in some sexy afternoon delight.

True to what was apparently their M.O., they hadn’t discussed a goddamn thing following their escapades on her couch—and later in her shower. They hadn’t promised to text, or made plans to see each other again, or said anything that might help him figure out what the fuck was going on between them.

He knew why he hadn’t initiated that conversation. Dean still wasn’t sure what he wanted this thing to be.

No, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He knew all the way to the depths of his soul that he wanted to be with Vivian again, and not just in a casual-affair way. He genuinely enjoyed her company—and he didn’t mean just the sex. He loved talking to her, something he hadn’t experienced with too many other women in his past.

What he didn’t know was if he should be with Vivian. At this stage in his life, he was stuck in his ways, committed to his bachelor status and unencumbered lifestyle. After forty-four years of singlehood, he didn’t have the first clue about how to be in a relationship. It would be the equivalent of teaching an old dog new tricks, and it seemed unfair to expect that of Vivian, who was fourteen years younger and well-versed in commitment.

So, yeah. He knew why he was holding his tongue.

What he didn’t know was why Vivian wasn’t starting the conversation.

For the briefest second, he considered backing out before Pip noticed him, but he was too late. She glanced his direction and her face lit up.

“Coach Dee!” she called, waving enthusiastically.

He grinned, climbing out of his car. “Hey, Pip. Whatcha got there?”

Her smile faded, and that was when his gaze dropped to the bicycle and the object dangling from her hand. One training wheel.

“It came off,” she said, holding it up.

“I can see that.” He crouched beside the bike before spotting the missing nut lying in the driveway a few feet away. He walked over to retrieve it. “I can fix it.”

Pip looked at her bike for a moment before turning her attention back to him with a hopeful expression. “I’m too big for training wheels. Almost nobody in my class still has them. They’re for babies.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded with all the solemn conviction a five-year-old could muster, the glitter on her helmet flashing in the dying sunlight. “I’m in school now.”

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “If you don’t want training wheels anymore, I could just take the other one off.”

The words were out before he had time to think them through. Was that the right answer? He had absolutely no idea what age kids learned to ride bikes.

Pip’s entire face brightened. “Really?”

“Uh…”

“Will you teach me how to ride too?”