Crazy on You

shoes and a gray hooded sweatshirt. If he talked to the kid, maybe they could work something out.

He hit the garage door opener on his way out and moved into the driveway. The cold morning chilled his hands, and his breath hung in front of his face. He moved toward the boy, across a strip of frozen grass, as the steady bounce-bounce-bounce of the ball and the sound of it hitting the backboard filled his ears.

“Hey, buddy,” he said as he stopped in his neighbor’s drive. “It’s kind of cold to be playing so early.”

“I got to be the best,” he said, his breath streaming behind him as he tried for a layup and missed. The ball hit the rim and the kid caught it before it hit the ground. “I’m going to be the best at school.”

Tucker stuck his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. “You’re going to freeze your nuts off, kid.”

The boy stopped and looked up at him. His clear brown eyes widened as he stuck the ball under one arm of his puffy coat. “Really?”

No. Not really. Tucker shrugged. “I wouldn’t risk it. I’d wait until around three or four when it warms up.”

The kid tried a jump shot that slid around the rim. “Can’t. It’s the weekend. I gotta practice as much as I can.”

Crap. Tucker bent down and grabbed the ball as it rolled by his foot. He supposed he could threaten to give the kid some sort of citation or scare him with the threat of arrest. But Tucker didn’t believe in empty threats or abusing his power over the powerless. He knew what that felt like. And telling the kid he was going to freeze his nuts off, didn’t count. That could really happen here in the Texas panhandle. Especially when the wind started blowing. “What’s your name?”

“Phillip Darlington, but everyone calls me Pippen.”

Tucker stuck out his free hand. “Tucker Matthews. How old are you Pippen?”

“Ten.”

Tucker was no expert, but the kid seemed tall for his age.

“My grandma says you named your cat Pinky. That’s a weird name.”

This from a kid named Pippen? Tucker bounced the ball a few times. “Whose your grandma?”

“Louella Brooks. She lives on the other side of me and my mom.” He pointed behind him with his thumb.

Ah. The older lady who talked nonstop and had given him a pecan pie. “We have a problem.”

“We do?” He sniffed and wiped the back of his hand across his red nose.

“Yeah. I’ve got to sleep and you bouncing this ball is keeping me awake.”

“Put a pillow over your head.” He tilted his chin to one side. “Or you could turn on the TV. My mom has to sleep with the TV on sometimes.”

Neither was an option. “I’ve got a better idea. We play a game of H-O-R-S-E. If I win, you wait until three to play. If you win, I’ll put a pillow over my head.”

Phillip shook his head. “You’re a grown-up. That’s not fair.”

Damn. “I’ll spot you the first three letters.”

The kid looked at his fingers and counted. “I only have to make two baskets?”

“Yep.” Tucker wasn’t worried. He’d been watching the kid for a couple of days and he sucked. He tossed the kid the ball. “I’ll even let you go first.”

“Okay.” Pippen caught the ball and moved to an invisible free-throw line. His breath hung in front of his face, his eyes narrowed, and he bounced the ball in front of him. He got into an awkward free-throw stance, shot, and totally wafted it. The ball missed the backboard and Tucker tried not to smile as he ran into his own driveway to retrieve it. He dribbled back and did a left-handed layup. “That’s an H,” he said and tossed the ball to Pippen. The boy tried his luck at a layup and missed.

Tucker hit a jump shot at the center key. “O.”

“Wow.” Pippen shook his head. “You’re good.”

He’d played a lot of b-ball on his downtime in the military, and it didn’t hurt that the kid’s hoop was lowered to about eight feet and there was no one playing defense.

The kid moved to the spot where Tucker had stood. Once again his eyes narrowed and he bounced the ball in front of him. He lined up the shot and Tucker sighed.

“Keep your elbows pointed straight,” he heard himself coach. God, he couldn’t believe he was giving the kid pointers. He wasn’t even sure he liked kids. He’d never really been around any since he’d been one himself, and most of those had been like him. Throwaways.

Pippen held the ball right in front of his face and pointed his elbows at the net.

“No.” Tucker moved behind the kid, lowered the ball a few inches, and moved his cold hands to the correct position. “Keep the ball lined up, bend your knees, and shoot.”

“Pippen!”

Both Tucker and the boy spun around at the same time. Lily Darlington stood behind them, wrapped up in a red wool coat and wearing white bunny slippers. Crisp morning light caught in her blond hair curled up in big Texas-size rollers. The chilled air caught in his lungs and turned her cheeks pink. She was pretty, even if her ice blue gaze cut Tucker to shreds. She stared at him as she spoke to her child. “I called your name twice.”

“Sorry.” The kid dribbled the ball. “I was practicing my shots.”

“Go eat your breakfast. Your waffles are getting cold.”

“I have to practice.”

“Basketball season is over until next year.”

“That’s why I have to practice. To get better.”

“You have to go eat. Right now.”

Pippen gave a long suffering sigh and tossed the ball to Tucker. “You can play if you want.”

He didn’t, but he caught the ball. “Thanks. See ya around, Pippen.”

As the kid stormed past his mother, she reached out and grabbed him. She hugged him close and kissed the top of his head. “You don’t have to be the best at everything, Pip.” She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I love you bigger than the sun and stars.”

“I know.”

“Forever and ever. Always.” She moved her palms to his cheek. “You’re a good boy”—she smiled into his upturned face—“with dirty hands. Wash them when you go inside.”

Tucker looked at her slim hands on the boy’s cheeks and temples, cupping his ears. Her nails were red and her skin looked soft. A thin blue vein lined her wrist and disappeared beneath the cuff of her red wool coat. The chilly air in his lungs burned. “Go inside or you’ll freeze your ears off.”

“My nuts.”

Uh-oh.

“What?”

“I’ll freeze my nuts off.” He glanced behind his shoulder and laughed. “Tucker said it’s so cold out here I’ll freeze my nuts off.”

Her gaze cut to his and one brow rose up her forehead. “Charming.” She ran her fingers through her son’s short hair. “Go eat before your waffles are as cold as your . . . ears.” The kid took off and she folded her arms across her chest. The curlers in her hair should have made her look ridiculous. They didn’t. They made him want to watch her take them out. It was silly, and he dribbled the ball instead of thinking about her hair. “You must be the new neighbor.”

“Tucker Matthews.” He stuck the ball under one arm and offered his free hand. She looked at it for several heartbeats then shook it. Her skin was as warm and soft as it looked; he wondered what her palm would feel like on the side of his face. Then he wondered why he was wondering about her at all.

“Lily Darlington.” Her blue eyes stared into his, and she obviously didn’t recognize him from the night before. She took her hand back and slid it into her pocket. “I’m sure you’re perfectly nice, but I’m very protective and I don’t let just any man around my son.”

That was wise, he supposed. “Are you worried about me doing something to your kid?”

She shook her head. “Not worried. Just letting you know that I protect Pip.”

Then maybe she shouldn’t have named him Pip because that was just a guaranteed ass-kicking. Then again, this was Texas. The rule for names in Texas was different from the rest of the country. A guy named Guppy couldn’t