Can't Stand the Heat? Read Online Free

where he could play his video games, listen to his music and pretend he couldn’t hear her.
    Tommy ran out of the house, his water bottle clutched in one hand and his gear in the other. “Shotgun!” he shouted as he scrambled into the car.
    “Big whoop-di-doo,” Nick said. “Shotgun is for losers.”
    Tommy knelt on the seat to face his brother. “You’re just mad because Mom is making you come to my practice and run.”
    “Shut up, butthead.” Nick jammed earbuds into his ears and turned on his mp3 player.
    “Stop it, both of you.” Jen closed her eyes for a moment. “Tommy, turn around and put on your seat belt. Nick, don’t talk to your brother like that.” She threw the car into gear and backed out of the driveway.
    By the time they reached the park, she’d managed to calm herself, lost in her thoughts. Catering the wedding had been the first step. She’d needed to see how she handled cooking for a lot of people all at once.
    She’d handled it just fine. Several people at the wedding had told her they were going to try her menu at the Harp. One of Maddie’s friends from Sturgeon Falls had tentatively hired her to cater a party.
    Which was great, but Jen didn’t want a career as a caterer. She wanted to open her own restaurant. She just needed more money first.
    Tommy jumped out of the car and ran to the handful of boys already standing on the baseball diamond. Nick pretended he didn’t know they’d arrived.
    “Nick.”
    When she turned around, he reluctantly put the game on the car seat. “Get it over with,” she said gently. “Pretend it was your idea. All of Tommy’s friends think you’re cool.” She smiled at him. “Next time, I bet some of them will run with you.”
    He snorted, but pulled his shoes on and got out, then began jogging the perimeter of the field.
    As she watched him run, his white headphone wires bouncing, his stiff, resentful posture gradually relaxed. Nick had refused to get involved in any organized sports this year. All he wanted to do was play video games and sit at the computer. Tony had pitched a fit, but Jen knew Nick had always hated organized sports. He’d only played soccer and baseball to get his father’s approval.
    So she’d made him a deal. He could drop the sports, but he needed exercise. He would come to every baseball practice and game with her and Tommy, and he’d run. When he’d gone three miles, he could play his video games and have access to the computer.
    No one ever told you that parenting was a series of compromises. That it required the negotiation skills of a lawyer and the patience of a saint.
    She was becoming an expert at the negotiation part.
    Slamming the door shut, she hoisted the bag of bats and balls over her shoulder. The boys were chasing one another around home plate. “Okay, guys, let’s get started.”

    A NOTHER PRACTICE FINISHED without a disaster or a meltdown.
    Miraculous, when you were dealing with eleven-year-olds.
    Nick was already in the car, slouching against the door. Jen called to Tommy, “Come on, bud. Grandma’s fixing dinner and I want to help her.” Afterward, she was going to work on a new recipe for duck, and if it worked, she’d add it to her “dishes for the restaurant” file.
    Her younger son waved, but kept talking to one of his friends as he walked toward her. Making dinner was supposed to be her contribution to living with her parents. She needed to finish up for her mom.
    Finally Tommy reached them. He threw his bag on the floor of the backseat, then climbed into the front. “You promised we could go to Frank’s after practice.”
    Damn it. She’d forgotten about that. “Could we do it tomorrow, honey?”
    “It won’t take long. I already know what I want.”
    She glanced over at her sports-mad son. “Whose card are you buying this time?”
    “A-Rod’s,” he told her. “The best player in baseball.”
    “Do you have enough money for that?”
    “Grandma paid me to dig up the garden.