Dipping In A Toe by Linda Carroll-Bradd Page B

feet, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Come on, Adam. You can do it, buddy.”
    With a last burst of energy, he put down his head, stroked hard, and touched the wall for second place in the freestyle match.
    “Wahoo!” Pride and excitement shot through me. I pumped a victory fist in the air and scanned the pool deck, looking for Rick. The need to share this victory with someone else, like I would have done with Dylan, welled in my throat.
    Rick stood on the deck angled toward the bleachers, not facing the tired, but elated, swimmers emerging from the pool. Sporting a mile-wide smile, he flashed me a thumbs-up sign.
    How had he known? The cheers of other spectators muted, and my vision focused on Rick’s intent gaze directed my way. The look was the type of attention that I suddenly craved. Tears welled in my eyes, and I blinked hard to beat them back.
    Christy enveloped me in a tight hug and swayed. “Hey, our guys came in second and third. They’ll be happy with that.”
    The secret congratulatory moment was gone but I’d savor it a long time. I returned my friend’s hug, trying to talk around the sudden lump in my throat. “Dylan would have been so proud.”
    “Oh, sweetie.” Her arms squeezed tighter and then she pushed me to arm’s length, her blue-eyed gaze searching. “You have everything so together that sometimes I forget.”
    With my fingertips, I swiped at my moist eyes and shrugged. “That’s okay, Christy. I do my best to love them enough for both of us.”
    The next quarter hour was spent applauding the winners of the various races. My heart swelled with motherly pride at the announcement of Adam Langdon as second place in the fifteen- to sixteen-year-old freestyle event. An urge to wrap him in a bear hug overwhelmed me, but I knew I’d have to restrain that exuberance into a single fist-tap to his shoulder—the only public display of affection he allowed.
    “Let’s go congratulate our champs.” We gathered our belongings and followed the crowd from the bleachers.
    Once on the concrete pool deck, Christy was stopped by another mom and they started chatting.
    Knowing our afternoon schedule was full, I waved in her direction. “See you later.” Then I turned toward the swarm of competitors and ran smack into a wall of taut muscle—a wonderfully fit male body. Large hands gripped my arms.
    “Hey, slow down.”
    The rumbly voice was familiar. Rick? A gasp escaped. I looked up and met his laughing, blue-eyed gaze. Gorgeous dark blue eyes that reminded me of ocean depths. A tremble ran through my insides. “I’m sorry, Coach. I was—”
    “Coach?” His grip loosened, but his hands still held on. “The name’s Rick.”
    The strength of his long fingers on my arms, holding me in place, felt good. Hell, sharing a few words with a male adult was a great experience.
    I scanned his face, noting the crinkle lines at the corners of his eyes and his firm lips surrounded by a blondish-brown goatee. He really was a handsome man. Afraid of what he’d see in my expression, I dipped my chin, which only directed my gaze right toward his tanned, muscular legs. Such nice legs. “Okay…Rick. I should have been paying better attention.”
    “Doesn’t matter. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”
    My head came up, heart rate beating like a flutter kick. “You did?” Had he possibly taken notice of me in the same way I’d noticed him? Maybe because of today’s outfit?
    His feet shuffled on the concrete deck as someone brushed close but his gaze held steady. “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about how much Adam has improved. He must be doing something else to develop his endurance.”
    Adam? This conversation was about my son’s performance? Rick wasn’t sharing a personal comment. Sheer pride kept my shoulders from sagging in disappointment. “I noticed. And I know I have”—I cleared my throat and started again—“all the parents have you to thank.”
    My skin tingled where his roughened