Page 2 of The Bad Boy’s Homecoming (The Southern Hart Brothers #2)

CHAPTER TWO

Levi

More than My Hometown

“G ran, you can’t blame me for thinking my room would be available. You’ve never welcomed boarders before,” Levi said, following his grandmother into the kitchen.

“Missy is not a boarder—she’s my companion.” His grandmother turned to face him with her hands on her hips.

Levi couldn’t help but smile at the familiar stance that told him he was about to get an earful. Before she could start the lecture, he leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, picking her up and giving her a gentle squeeze.

“I missed you.”

“You’re not going to sweet-talk your way out of this one, young man. Now put me down.”

Levi gave her one more squeeze and then gently set her down.

“Now you make the coffee and I’ll get you some breakfast.”

He knew better than to argue so he did as he was told and then sat at the kitchen table while his grandmother brought out several different types of baked goods.

“Since when do you keep so many sweets readily available?” he asked with his hands on the table.

“I’ve been working on my pie recipes, trying to decide which one to enter in the Summer Fest,” she said, carving several large slices for him.

“Well then I’m just in time to serve as your guinea pig.”

But before he could get even one big bite of a berry pie shoved in his mouth, his gran sat across from him.

“If my memory still serves me, and it does, you’re due to start your spring training with the Atlanta Warriors. So why are you in my house causing a ruckus?”

This was the big question: why the hell was he back in Sandy Point?

He was at the top of his baseball career, new endorsements rolled in every year, his bonus checks got bigger, but he’d walked away.

Nine years of playing Major League Baseball, and he was burned out, or worse: he’d lost the love of the game.

Either way when the Warriors didn’t re-sign him, he became a free agent at the end of the last season.

Instead of listening to his agent and considering one of the other offers, he’d just left Atlanta and drove to his hometown.

“Aren’t you happy to see your favorite grandson?” he said to his grandmother as she squinted at several pieces of new ink on his forearms.

“Favorite? Right now Dalton is the favorite.”

“Is that right? Well, it’s his fault I had to come here. I stopped at my house first to find him shacked up with someone. He wouldn’t even let me stay in my own house.”

“Good, I gave it to him.”

“You can’t do that. I built that house, Gran.”

“It’s still my land until I die, young man.”

Before he could respond, the gorgeous woman, with bronze skin he wanted to touch, who he’d found half naked in his childhood room, walked into the kitchen. She was wearing a white T-shirt, jeans that looked too big with paint on them, and a flannel to match.

Levi leaned back in his chair and looked between his grandmother and the pretty woman scowling at him.

“Missy honey, meet Levi. Levi, meet Missy Shaw. Missy lives with me, and she’s my friend.”

“Friend? Is that code for freeloader?”

His gran reached across the table and popped him upside the head so fast he was impressed at her reflexes.

“I’m your grandmother’s companion, and she’s my business partner,” Missy said.

“All that sounds like a mooch to me, but maybe I’m jaded because baseball brings out the gold diggers.”

Missy clamped her mouth shut and poured herself a big cup of coffee. “I’ll be in the studio, Mrs. Hart.”

“Yes, dear, that might be best. I’ll join you later.”

Then he watched Missy turn left off the kitchen toward the sunroom.

“So this is more like an artistic commune?” he said leaning back in his chair so he could watch Missy’s curves sway off into the sunroom.

“Levi honey, I can see you forgot your manners in the big city, but you best find them and treat Missy with respect. Because she is staying. Now, you can have Wesley’s old room if you promise to be nice.”

“But my room has the best views—and my bed,” he teased, knowing he had lost this battle. He hadn’t planned on staying in town long, much less at his grandmother’s.

“Which is now Missy’s view and her bed.” She patted his arm. “Go on, eat up.”

His grandmother looked a little older each time he was home. The heels she used to wear looked more like comfy sneakers now, and there were a few more wrinkles he didn’t remember being there. But everything about her was warm and welcoming.

“Alright,” he said, putting both hands down on the table. “Hit me with it—what’s going on? Since when do you need a companion?”

His grandmother set her dainty coffee cup down on the matching floral saucer and sat next to him again. “Well, I don’t know that I really need one, but a few months ago Missy needed a place to stay where she could focus on her art.”

“Gran.” He reached out to cover her hand with his own.

“And your brothers are worried about me living in this big house alone, so I agreed to let Missy keep me company. Wait until you see her art—you’ll understand. From time to time, if I need a little help, it’s nice to have her so close by. I like her company.”

Levi nodded. “Then I guess she can keep my room, but if I get one whiff of her taking advantage of this situation.”

“Levi, you will not insult my intelligence. And I’ll have you know she happens to have been in law school, top of her class.”

“So you’re saying she’ll, what, sue me?”

“Now let’s talk about why you’re home when you should be getting in shape for the season. Did you need help washing some of this ink off your skin?” She tapped the latest tattoo of an intricate rope he had that twisted up his forearm.

“They’re permanent, Gran, and the ladies love them.”

“Oh all those nice women you meet and never bring home? Forgive me if I don’t trust their taste in body art. Stop skirting the issue. Why aren’t you in spring training?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Which is code for you’re not sure what you’re doing here. You forget I’ve known you your entire life.”

“I guess I just need a break. I’m sick of this persona the Warriors want me to play, and when we couldn’t come to agreeable contract terms, I thought maybe I should take a break.”

She sighed. “You love baseball. And you don’t have to play any part for anyone. You’re the greatest shortstop to ever play the game.”

“You always say that, and just because my grandmother thinks it doesn’t make it true. Contracts are stuffed full of all sorts of binding agreements these days, Gran.”

“Then get a better contract.”

“I could, but it won’t be with the Warriors.”

“I see, and you’re not sure you want to play anywhere else.”

“That feels like failure. And starting over farther away from home isn’t something I’m interested in.”

“Then I guess you better figure out what you want to do next. I hope you listened to that financial adviser and didn’t blow all your money.

You can’t live with me forever.” Then she stood up and took her coffee and a plate of pastries with her toward the sunroom.

Leaving him to sit and think about what he was doing with his life.

Half a pie later, and another cup of coffee, he dragged his bag upstairs to what had been Wesley’s old room, down the hall from his former room.

The only bright side was it had a balcony that was big enough to stand on or to place one chair.

From up here, he could see across the back of the house and spotted Missy in the sunroom.

His grandmother sat in the corner knitting and periodically looking up to see whatever Missy was painting.

He couldn’t see the art, but seeing the way she moved, making big sweeping strokes on the canvas before she stopped and studied her work, made him wonder what emotions were fueling her masterpiece.

How did an artistic lawyer come to need a place to stay in a small Southern beach town, and why were his brothers okay with it?