My Fair Gentleman by Jan Freed

made a special trip out to the house to talk with his parents.
    Adjusting the rearview mirror, Joe caught sight of his scowling reflection and blew out a breath. No sense beating that dead horse again.
    “Why didn’t you go to college?” Catherine asked out of the blue.
    Damn, he was beginning to think she really was a witch. Forcing his features to relax, he shrugged. “I got drafted straight into the minor leagues after graduation.”
    “Let me rephrase the question. Why did you choose not to attend college? I mean, you must have been offered athletic scholarships. Academic ones, too, if you used the brain you were born with, instead of the one people like me assumed you had.”
    He shot her a startled glance.
    “I’m sorry I fell for the dumb-jock stereotype, Joe.”
    Gratification blazed through him, as hot and fierce as sexual release. He’d spent a good part of his life apologizing to other people. Being on the receiving end felt great.
    “No reason you shouldn’t’ve fallen for it. I fit the image closely enough.” Maybe too closely, he realized now. He’d almost forgotten it was an act.
    “True. Which makes me wonder why you’d want to seem less intelligent than you are.”
    His goodwill vanished. “So only people who use fancy words are intelligent, is that it?”
    “Obviously not, or I would have seen through your smoke screen right away.”
    Her rueful expression surprised him. He remembered their first conversation at The Pig’s Gut. She’d apologized then, too, for assuming that guests at her engagement party would have more sophisticated intereststhan baseball. He’d never met a woman who owned up to her mistakes as readily as Catherine. Hell, he couldn’t think of a man who did, either. For the first time in sixteen years he found himself wanting to explain his actions to another person.
    Eyes straight ahead, he cleared his throat. “When I got those scholarship offers, I was a kid, ya know? Cocky and impatient. Four years seemed like a century to wait for my shot at The Show.”
    “The Show?”
    “Yeah, The Show—the major leagues. I never even considered what I’d do after I got too old to play baseball.”
    “What about your parents? Didn’t they realize the benefits of your having a college degree to fall back on?”
    Joe choked back a snort. The gap between her WASP upbringing and his own blue-collar roots had never seemed so huge. He maneuvered the Bronco onto Highway 59 before answering.
    “In the Tucker family, and Littleton in general, college was for rich people. Other people. Guys went straight from high school into an entry-level job at one of the refineries. I was damn lucky to have the option to play baseball.”
    “But you could have played and attended college, too. I find it hard to believe you weren’t even tempted.”
    Yeah, he’d been tempted. But in the end, he’d loved his father more. “You gotta remember, nobody in my class was headed for college, except maybe a few geeks. Parents didn’t pound on their kids to make good grades in school. It just wasn’t important.”
    “Hmm.”
    This was why he never had “discussions.” They only stirred up emotions better left alone.
    “So what was?”
    “What was what?”
    “If a good education wasn’t important, what was?”
    That was easy. “Sports.”
    She waited a heartbeat. “And…?”
    He couldn’t expect a Connecticut blueblood to understand. “No ands. People in Littleton—especially guy people—ate, drank and breathed local high-school sports. Still do, for that matter, same as in every small Texas town. My dad was no exception.”
    “He must have been very proud when you made the draft.”
    “Yeah, he was.” Joe smiled at the understatement. “The day we got word, he took me to The Pig’s Gut. Bought a beer for everyone there, climbed on a chair and made a toast to me.”
    “Really?” Her voice lifted in delight—and what could’ve been longing. “Do you remember what he