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Synopsis
WHEN YOU PLAY FOR LOVE, YOU PLAY FOR KEEPS Stella Davenport wasn't made for small-town life. Sure, teaching ballet in Blanco Valley, Colorado, is great, but she longs for the chance to perform in a big city. Stella swore she'd never let anything get in the way of her dream--until sexy, broad-shouldered Brandon West walks back into her life. Stella is determined to resist him, even if arguing with Brandon is sexier than any foreplay. For Brandon, it's always been just him and his son, Matt. Knowing that love only leads to heartbreak, he isn't looking to expand his family any time soon. Stella, with her long, gorgeous legs and infectious laugh, is a breath of fresh air he didn't even know he'd been missing. But when she's offered her dream job in Chicago, will he be willing to put his heart on the line?
Release date: October 31, 2017
Publisher: Forever
Print pages: 353
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Back in the Game
Erin Kern
One
I want to sign up for ballet lessons.”
Stella paused in the act of locking the doors to her dance studio and eyed the tall, broad-shouldered kid who’d caught her at the end of a long day.
“You want ballet lessons?” she repeated.
Matt West nodded. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat as though nervous. “I know some of the other guys on the team are taking lessons from you. They said it helped with, like, their balance and stuff.”
Stella turned to face him. She always had extra time for a student in need, but technically Matt wasn’t a student. And the other football players she was helping had come in with their parents.
“Matt…” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Does your dad know you’re here?” Not that Stella was looking to see Brandon West, but she needed to make sure she had his permission to get Matt enrolled.
“Uh…not exactly,” he answered.
She turned the key in the lock again and pushed the door open. “Why don’t we go inside and talk?”
As Matt followed her inside, Stella wrestled with the uncomfortable and conflicting feeling about what to do. It wasn’t the kid’s fault his father was sex on a stick who’d given her more fantasies than anything she’d had as a teenager. It also wasn’t Matt’s fault her one and only date with his dad had ended in disaster.
She should come up with an excuse. Tell Matt she didn’t have space in her schedule. But when she glanced at him and spotted the hopefulness in his brown gaze, she knew turning him away wasn’t an option.
“Why don’t you tell me what made you decide to come see me?” she said.
Matt rocked back on his heels. “Some of the guys said your classes were cool. And you were helping them and stuff.”
“Do you have an idea of what specific things you’d like to work on?” she asked. “I’m assuming your coach gave you areas that need improvement.”
“Yeah, you know”—he shrugged—“I have issues with my balance and flexibility. Coach says I might have a shot at a scholarship if I work on those things.”
She could totally help him with that. Except…
“I would love to get you signed up today, but I need your dad here.”
Matt winced and shook his head. “I can’t just, like, sign his name on whatever release form you have?”
If only. Because that would work better for the two of them, but she couldn’t go against her own rules. “It’s not really a release form, just more like signing over permission. And since you’re under-age, your dad has to come in here and sign you up.” Unfortunately.
Matt was silent a moment, as though searching for a way to get around having his dad involved.
She offered him a sympathetic smile, because she remembered what it was like to be seventeen. “You can’t go behind your dad’s back, Matt. You need his permission.”
His shoulders slumped. “But I know he won’t go for it. He’ll say ballet is for girls and I need to find another solution.”
Sounded like how Brandon would react. “Maybe you’re not giving your dad enough credit. Maybe he’s more progressive than you realize.”
Matt laughed and shook his head. “Trust me, he’s not.”
“Why don’t you try first?” she suggested. “Go home, broach the subject with him and just see what he says.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “When I was six, I asked for a Ken doll for my birthday and he bought me a set of army guys instead.”
In that case…“Maybe…” Dear God, don’t say it. “Maybe I could talk to him for you first,” she blurted out, because apparently, her mouth didn’t get the memo. “Give him an explanation of ballet training and its benefits.”
Matt’s face brightened so fast that it almost overshadowed her insane plan to put herself in Brandon’s path. “You’d do that?”
She shrugged as though it was no big deal. No big deal to come face-to-face with the man who sent her into more cold showers than a shirtless Ryan Gosling. “Sure. But you still need to talk to him. Don’t let your dad think you were deliberately trying to go behind his back.”
One side of Matt’s mouth curled up, and holy kick-in-the-stomach if he didn’t look just like Brandon when he did that. “But I kind of already did.”
“Yeah, but you don’t want him thinking that you did,” she corrected.
He scratched the side of his face. “But won’t he know I did after you talk to him?”
Hmmm, good argument and one she wasn’t prepared to answer. “I’ll handle that when I talk to him. I’ll let him think it was my idea and I came to you instead of you coming to me.”
Matt blinked, then slowly shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll work.”
She placed a reassuring hand on his arm, even though her own doubt made her fingers tremble. “Trust me on this. I can handle your dad.”
Yeah, piece of cake. Because the last time she’d tried to “handle” Brandon West, she’d thrown up rotten sushi all over him.
Brandon West had just picked up his double bacon cheeseburger with extra tomato when a shadow fell over his table, piercing the solitude he’d been enjoying with his solo lunch. For a second he waited for the person to realize they had the wrong table, when his gaze touched on the outline of long hair, narrow shoulders, and hands firmly planted on hips curved to such perfection that Brandon almost whimpered.
Until he remembered who those hips belonged to and the crystal-clear blue eyes that came with them. Eyes that were filled with trouble almost as often as they held promises of steamy kisses and twisted bedsheets.
He chewed slowly as she plopped herself down in the wrought-iron chair across from him and gave him a smile so wide that he almost made the mistake of thinking she was dropping in to say hi.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“All right, fine.”
Brandon watched in horror as she reached across the table and snagged an onion straw off his plate.
Before he could tell her to keep her hands to herself or, better yet, move the hell along, his server appeared. As though he were waiting for an opportunity to give Stella a reason to stay.
“Can I get you anything?” the guy asked.
Stella tilted her face up to the waiter. “I’ll just have whatever he’s having—”
“No, she’s not staying,” Brandon interrupted.
“Maybe just put mine in a to-go box,” she suggested. “Mr. Grumpy Pants is a bit socially inept,” she whispered to the server.
“Christ,” he muttered to himself.
The waiter left without another word, probably because he still wanted his twenty percent tip. Smart man.
“Start talking, Stella,” he said.
“I think you should put Matt in ballet training,” she said in a rush.
Brandon paused with his glass of Coke halfway to his mouth.
“Ballet isn’t just for girls,” she continued. “Some of the best dancers in the world are men. Ever heard of Mikhail Baryshnikov?”
He just stared at her. What the hell was she talking about?
“Okay, dumb question,” she pointed out. “But never mind that. It’s not about turning Matt into a ballerina. It’s about helping him with balance and flexibility.” She forged on when he didn’t say anything. “I’ve helped a lot of kids on the team. They’ve—”
“Stop,” he said with a raised hand. “Explain.”
She nibbled on her thumbnail, which was way more endearing than it should have been. “Okay, this isn’t really going the way I planned it.”
“The way you planned what?”
“See, here’s the thing—”
“Stella,” he interrupted when he sensed another load of bullshit about Mikhail what’s-his-face or whatever else she planned to say to him. “Why are you talking to me about Matt? If he wanted to take a class with you, he would have told me.”
“But he thinks you won’t let him,” she admitted.
“Hold up a sec. Are you telling me Matt came to you and asked for ballet training? For football?”
Stella sat there, then slowly nodded.
“Why didn’t he come to me first?”
Stella huffed out a breath as though she’d already lost. “Okay, here’s the thing,” she started. “And this isn’t how this whole thing was supposed to go—”
“Yeah, got that,” he stated.
She blinked at his interruption. “Is the issue that you don’t want Matt taking ballet? Or that he didn’t ask you first?”
He paused, then bit into his burger. “Both.”
Stella blew out a breath. “That’s lame. Can we set aside for one minute the circumstance in which Matt came to see me?” Stella said with exasperation. “Let’s get back to the ballet thing. Matt wants to take lessons with me and since he’s a minor, you need to sign him up.”
That was it? In that case…
“I don’t think so,” he finally said.
The server delivered the food. Stella blew out a breath, then took an enormous bite, leaving a smudge of mayonnaise on her lower lip. “Mmmm,” she said. “Now that’s a damn good burger.” She kept talking, but Brandon could only stare and ball his hands into fists to keep from swiping the mayonnaise away with his thumb. “I’ll have you know that not one of them has had their masculinity questioned, or whatever it is you’re worried about.” She paused as though waiting for his response. “And now you’ve tuned me out.”
God, she was cute when she was annoyed. Brandon sighed as he picked up his napkin. “Hold still a minute.”
But she jerked away when he reached toward her. “What’re you doing?”
Jesus, what did she think he was going to do?
He resisted rolling his eyes at her. Barely. “Lean forward a little and sit still for a sec.”
Finally she complied, leaning forward just enough for him to reach her with his napkin.
Sweat built up between his shoulder blades when her blue eyes darkened and her breath hitched. Despite the heat arcing between them, Brandon managed not to touch her more than necessary, even though he wanted to ditch the dirty napkin and skim his fingers along her jaw.
He dropped the napkin to his plate and cleared his throat. “You had a spot of mayo on your mouth.”
Stella automatically reached up and touched her lower lip, even though Brandon had taken care it. “You could have just told me,” she muttered.
He offered her a crooked grin. “What fun would that have been?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re sick.”
She had no idea.
“You were saying something about masculinity?” he prompted, desperate to get the conversation away from Stella’s mouth. Even if it was to talk about ballet.
Stella gazed at him for a moment, then dug back in to her burger. “I just think your hang-up with ballet is possibly threatening Matt’s masculinity.”
He rested his elbows on the table and enjoyed the red coloring her cheeks. Yeah, she was good and worked up. “You think that’s what’s worrying me?”
“Well, then what’s your problem?”
His problem was her. Seeing more of her than he already was. Bad enough he saw her at all the football games and bumped into her around town. He was trying to keep a friendly distance because she bothered him. Like, fantasizing about what she looked like under her clothes bothered. How was he supposed to keep himself in check if she kept putting herself in his way?
“Just bring him to one class. If he hates it, you don’t have to bring him back.”
“I already told you, it’s not happening.”
Stella pushed her half-empty plate away. She stared at him for a moment, then leaned her elbows on the table. “Okay, how about this,” she said, completely undeterred. “I waive my enrollment fee and if after one month you don’t see a difference on the field, you can pull him.”
Brandon chomped on his burger some more.
She dropped her head back and heaved a sigh. “Why won’t you let me help him?”
“Because I don’t think it’ll help.”
“But you haven’t even tried. Talk to some of the other kids on the team. Ask them how it’s helped them.”
Brandon wiped his hands on a napkin, then tossed the napkin down. “Why are you so hell-bent on this? Why does Matt’s football performance matter to you?”
Stella lifted one elegant shoulder, which had been bared when the neckline of her loose top had slipped. “Because when a kid comes to me and asks for help, I like to try and find a way to make it work. And he really wants a scholarship.”
Brandon watched her for a moment, moving his gaze over her features, touching on her narrow chin, the smattering of freckles across her nose, and her clear eyes, which were as blue as the sky above them. Her hair was a hot mess today, thrown into a messy ponytail, darker on top then fading to blond at the ends. As much as she confused him, she also amazed him. She was all spitfire and sass in a lithe body. Her legs were long and lean, a testament to years of dancing that had shaped her body to resemble a man’s wet dream.
Bottom line, he liked Stella. She pushed his buttons and turned him on. And that was also why he needed to stay away from her. He’d been burned too badly in the past to let himself fall for a pair of big blue eyes and kick-ass legs. The last woman he’d been serious about strung him along and left him high and dry with a toddler after years of empty promises.
“What else?” he prodded.
She blinked at him. “What else?” she repeated.
“You’re not doing this just because you like Matt. You don’t know him that well, so there has to be something more.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it as though rethinking whatever she’d been about to say. He wasn’t sure she even knew why pursuing this was so important to her. Maybe she didn’t like to be told no. Maybe she didn’t back down from a challenge.
Or maybe she had an ulterior motive that he didn’t even want to think about. Stella didn’t strike him as deceptive. Using Matt to get close to Brandon. No, she was better than that.
Stella leaned her elbows on the table. “Okay, you want to know the truth?”
He steepled his fingers together. “Please.”
“I think you’ve realized by now that I’m a doer.” When he arched a brow at her, she forged on. “I’m also a fixer. And I like to help people. It’s one of the reasons I became an instructor. When I see someone I can help, or where I can step in in some way, I go for it. I don’t like to sit back and not do something.”
Brandon nodded. “That’s admirable.”
She beamed a smile at him that punched him in the gut. “Thank you.”
“But my son isn’t a charity case.”
Stella rolled her eyes at him. “I didn’t say that, Brandon.”
“And he’s not someone you need to fix.”
“I didn’t say that either.”
“So where do we go from here?” he pressed.
“You let me help,” she answered with a shrug, as though it were that simple.
As much as he wanted to, Brandon couldn’t bring himself to disappoint her. “I’m not sure yet.”
Her mouth slowly curled into a grin, as she knew she had him. “Doesn’t sound like a no to me.”
He stood and tossed some bills on the table for a tip. “No promises.”
Two
Brandon spent the entire drive to the high school kicking himself for allowing Stella to get under his skin. Again. He’d made a rule to keep his distance from her since their one date a year and a half ago. She thought it was because she’d thrown up on him. If he were smart, he’d let her keep thinking that. No, the problem was he’d liked her too much. It hadn’t taken him long to realize he could fall too easily for her. He couldn’t afford to jump into anything with Stella, then be left high and dry when she decided to leave. Because people always left. He’d learned that the hard way with his ex, Trisha. And the Blanco Valley rumor mill was in full swing with whispers of Stella going back to Chicago to choreograph for her former company.
Brandon pulled into the high school parking lot and exited his truck. Practice had long since ended, but the head coach was on the field with Matt, giving him extra attention and instruction.
With Blake Carpenter in control of the team, everyone was pretty confident the Bobcats could have a repeat of last year’s winning season. Matt desperately wanted more playtime, and Blake wanted to give it to him. Brandon’s cousin was a fair coach who loved his players, but he was also practical.
Brandon couldn’t think of a better man to coach the kids. Not only was Blake one of the best people Brandon knew, but he’d also been a legendary quarterback who’d dominated the game for almost fifteen years before he’d retired a few years ago.
Brandon spotted the assistant coach, his friend Cameron, on the sidelines.
“How’s it going?” Brandon asked him.
Cameron had removed his baseball cap, revealing matted, shaggy dark hair. “It’s going,” he answered. “He did good at practice. He just needs to work on his coordination.”
Stella’s face instantly flashed across his mind. Hadn’t she said something about coordination? Damn, he didn’t want her to be right.
But Matt’s the one who wants the lessons.
And it still rankled that his own son felt like he couldn’t come to him about that. Was Brandon that much of an ogre? Maybe he needed to work on being more approachable.
On the field, Blake demonstrated a blocking move, which Matt attempted to replicate. Blake did his demonstration again, then gave the ball to Matt.
The scene reminded Brandon of his own football-playing days. When he’d been young and optimistic and the only thing he’d cared about, besides Trisha, had been the glare of those stadium lights. The sounds of the band. The crowd. Hearing his name through the speakers as he’d thrown himself across the end zone to score those precious points. That had all been during a time when he’d thought he was set. He’d go off to college with Blake, play some ball, and hopefully get drafted.
Every guy’s dream, right?
Well, he’d been no different. Only, God had had other plans for him in the form of a seven-pound screaming infant and—poof—he’d gone from being a football god to an eighteen-year-old construction worker trying to make ends meet for his new wife and son.
“I noticed the recruiters on the sidelines,” Brandon commented. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”
Cameron lifted one shoulder. “Not necessarily. Some of them like to get an early start. See which kids show the most promise.”
Brandon knew Matt wanted to play ball in college. The only thing the two disagreed on was where the kid should go. Brandon wanted him to go to University of Colorado Boulder because it was in state, thus cheaper, and they had an excellent business program. But Matt wanted to attend the University of Texas…aka the Longhorns…aka football central…aka way beyond Brandon’s financial capabilities. He certainly didn’t want to burden his kid with financial issues. However, he wasn’t sure how he could keep Matt from applying to UT without cluing him in.
“But, Dad, that’s where Adrienne’s going,” Matt would say, referring to his girlfriend of five months.
That was all fine and good. Adrienne’s parents could afford to send their only daughter to any school she wanted. It just so happened to have an incredible football team, which was just about all Matt cared about, and it was double the cost.
It was one of those subjects he kept putting off. But it was only a matter of time before the two went head-to-head about it.
“Did you notice the recruiter for CU?” Cameron asked.
“Yeah.” Brandon kept his gaze on the action on the field. “I also noticed the guy with the Longhorns shirt.”
Cameron waved a hand in the air. “I told you not to worry about that. Do you know how many times I changed my mind about college?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t have a girl tugging you around by the pecker,” Brandon reminded his friend.
Cameron dipped his head. “You have a point. But the school year just started. Anything could happen. Do you know how many high school relationships come and go?”
Yeah, Brandon knew that. His own relationship with Trisha was excellent proof.
Cameron held up a hand, because he knew full well the relationship Brandon had had with Trisha. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that.”
Brandon shook his head and waved his friend’s concerns away. “Don’t worry about it. I was young and stupid.”
“Weren’t we all?” Cameron countered with a tilt of his mouth.
“I wanted to get your opinion on Boulder,” Brandon told him. “What do you think about their football team?”
Cameron puffed out a breath and watched Matt. “They’re not bad. I mean, I wouldn’t call them a powerhouse, certainly not compared to the Longhorns.” He stared back at Brandon. “But Boulder isn’t where Matt wants to go.”
Brandon lifted his eyes to the darkening sky. “Don’t remind me. I can’t even say the word college without him getting all pissy.”
“What’s wrong with UT?” Cam asked.
“Nothing, except I can’t afford it. Not to mention I don’t want him following a girl he thinks he loves only to have the relationship end.”
Cameron’s brow pinched. “I thought Matt had a college fund.”
“He does.” Which was tied up in Brandon’s business. “But it’s not enough for a school like that. He’d have to get a scholarship, and we both know my son won’t be getting any football scholarships to the University of Texas.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Cameron pointed out. “Then again, playing football for the Buffs wouldn’t be so bad either.”
Brandon scrubbed a hand over his rough jaw. “Try telling Matt that.”
“He’s a kid. We didn’t listen at that age either.”
And wasn’t that the truth? He hadn’t listened when his aunt, Blake’s mother, had warned him about Trisha. “She’s flighty,” Blake’s mom would say. “The girl’s got her head in the clouds and you need to put her behind you.” Unfortunately, Brandon hadn’t listened because he’d been so enamored with her too-big-for-her-face green eyes, long legs, and infectious sense of humor. Five months later she’d called him to meet her behind the bleachers at the school. Through a stream of tears she’d informed him she was pregnant and that her daddy was going to kill her if they didn’t get married. So he’d married her, telling himself everyone was wrong about her. That Trisha loved him and Matt and would never leave for greener pastures.
He’d never been so wrong or so heartbroken.
“Give the kid some time,” Cam urged. “Applications aren’t due for a few months anyway. And right now I need him focusing on the team and making state. If you have a kid who plays for a state championship team, he’ll have a better chance of getting offers.”
Brandon and Matt drove home after practice. The second they were in Brandon’s truck, Matt dug his earbuds out of his backpack and stuck them in his ears.
Because heaven forbid the kid have a conversation with his father. At least one that didn’t begin and end with him grunting some non-answer. Music blared from Matt’s phone, which Brandon could hear through the earbuds, effectively cutting off any hope Brandon had of talking to his own kid.
Brandon pressed the accelerator and went through a green light, taking them through town and toward home. Haystack Mountain loomed in the distance, jutting above the valley, soaring past even the clouds with the sort of majesty that only God could give. The legendary Champion’s Valley sign, built out of white boulders during the Bobcats’ state-winning team run that lasted about fifteen years, had been strategically placed lower on the mountain so that anyone in the town could see it. A constant reminder that their team used to be great and could be great again.
Brandon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and shot Matt a glance.
His hair, as dark and unruly as Brandon’s, was matted with dried sweat and plastered to his head. Matt’s legs, long and lanky, also like Brandon’s, were stretched along the floorboard in front of him. Bottom line, Matt was a mini version of himself in both looks and personality.
He slugged the kid on the shoulder, motioning for him to remove his earbuds.
“Yeah?” Matt asked after he’d yanked the things from his ears.
“I ta. . .
I want to sign up for ballet lessons.”
Stella paused in the act of locking the doors to her dance studio and eyed the tall, broad-shouldered kid who’d caught her at the end of a long day.
“You want ballet lessons?” she repeated.
Matt West nodded. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat as though nervous. “I know some of the other guys on the team are taking lessons from you. They said it helped with, like, their balance and stuff.”
Stella turned to face him. She always had extra time for a student in need, but technically Matt wasn’t a student. And the other football players she was helping had come in with their parents.
“Matt…” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Does your dad know you’re here?” Not that Stella was looking to see Brandon West, but she needed to make sure she had his permission to get Matt enrolled.
“Uh…not exactly,” he answered.
She turned the key in the lock again and pushed the door open. “Why don’t we go inside and talk?”
As Matt followed her inside, Stella wrestled with the uncomfortable and conflicting feeling about what to do. It wasn’t the kid’s fault his father was sex on a stick who’d given her more fantasies than anything she’d had as a teenager. It also wasn’t Matt’s fault her one and only date with his dad had ended in disaster.
She should come up with an excuse. Tell Matt she didn’t have space in her schedule. But when she glanced at him and spotted the hopefulness in his brown gaze, she knew turning him away wasn’t an option.
“Why don’t you tell me what made you decide to come see me?” she said.
Matt rocked back on his heels. “Some of the guys said your classes were cool. And you were helping them and stuff.”
“Do you have an idea of what specific things you’d like to work on?” she asked. “I’m assuming your coach gave you areas that need improvement.”
“Yeah, you know”—he shrugged—“I have issues with my balance and flexibility. Coach says I might have a shot at a scholarship if I work on those things.”
She could totally help him with that. Except…
“I would love to get you signed up today, but I need your dad here.”
Matt winced and shook his head. “I can’t just, like, sign his name on whatever release form you have?”
If only. Because that would work better for the two of them, but she couldn’t go against her own rules. “It’s not really a release form, just more like signing over permission. And since you’re under-age, your dad has to come in here and sign you up.” Unfortunately.
Matt was silent a moment, as though searching for a way to get around having his dad involved.
She offered him a sympathetic smile, because she remembered what it was like to be seventeen. “You can’t go behind your dad’s back, Matt. You need his permission.”
His shoulders slumped. “But I know he won’t go for it. He’ll say ballet is for girls and I need to find another solution.”
Sounded like how Brandon would react. “Maybe you’re not giving your dad enough credit. Maybe he’s more progressive than you realize.”
Matt laughed and shook his head. “Trust me, he’s not.”
“Why don’t you try first?” she suggested. “Go home, broach the subject with him and just see what he says.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “When I was six, I asked for a Ken doll for my birthday and he bought me a set of army guys instead.”
In that case…“Maybe…” Dear God, don’t say it. “Maybe I could talk to him for you first,” she blurted out, because apparently, her mouth didn’t get the memo. “Give him an explanation of ballet training and its benefits.”
Matt’s face brightened so fast that it almost overshadowed her insane plan to put herself in Brandon’s path. “You’d do that?”
She shrugged as though it was no big deal. No big deal to come face-to-face with the man who sent her into more cold showers than a shirtless Ryan Gosling. “Sure. But you still need to talk to him. Don’t let your dad think you were deliberately trying to go behind his back.”
One side of Matt’s mouth curled up, and holy kick-in-the-stomach if he didn’t look just like Brandon when he did that. “But I kind of already did.”
“Yeah, but you don’t want him thinking that you did,” she corrected.
He scratched the side of his face. “But won’t he know I did after you talk to him?”
Hmmm, good argument and one she wasn’t prepared to answer. “I’ll handle that when I talk to him. I’ll let him think it was my idea and I came to you instead of you coming to me.”
Matt blinked, then slowly shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll work.”
She placed a reassuring hand on his arm, even though her own doubt made her fingers tremble. “Trust me on this. I can handle your dad.”
Yeah, piece of cake. Because the last time she’d tried to “handle” Brandon West, she’d thrown up rotten sushi all over him.
Brandon West had just picked up his double bacon cheeseburger with extra tomato when a shadow fell over his table, piercing the solitude he’d been enjoying with his solo lunch. For a second he waited for the person to realize they had the wrong table, when his gaze touched on the outline of long hair, narrow shoulders, and hands firmly planted on hips curved to such perfection that Brandon almost whimpered.
Until he remembered who those hips belonged to and the crystal-clear blue eyes that came with them. Eyes that were filled with trouble almost as often as they held promises of steamy kisses and twisted bedsheets.
He chewed slowly as she plopped herself down in the wrought-iron chair across from him and gave him a smile so wide that he almost made the mistake of thinking she was dropping in to say hi.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“All right, fine.”
Brandon watched in horror as she reached across the table and snagged an onion straw off his plate.
Before he could tell her to keep her hands to herself or, better yet, move the hell along, his server appeared. As though he were waiting for an opportunity to give Stella a reason to stay.
“Can I get you anything?” the guy asked.
Stella tilted her face up to the waiter. “I’ll just have whatever he’s having—”
“No, she’s not staying,” Brandon interrupted.
“Maybe just put mine in a to-go box,” she suggested. “Mr. Grumpy Pants is a bit socially inept,” she whispered to the server.
“Christ,” he muttered to himself.
The waiter left without another word, probably because he still wanted his twenty percent tip. Smart man.
“Start talking, Stella,” he said.
“I think you should put Matt in ballet training,” she said in a rush.
Brandon paused with his glass of Coke halfway to his mouth.
“Ballet isn’t just for girls,” she continued. “Some of the best dancers in the world are men. Ever heard of Mikhail Baryshnikov?”
He just stared at her. What the hell was she talking about?
“Okay, dumb question,” she pointed out. “But never mind that. It’s not about turning Matt into a ballerina. It’s about helping him with balance and flexibility.” She forged on when he didn’t say anything. “I’ve helped a lot of kids on the team. They’ve—”
“Stop,” he said with a raised hand. “Explain.”
She nibbled on her thumbnail, which was way more endearing than it should have been. “Okay, this isn’t really going the way I planned it.”
“The way you planned what?”
“See, here’s the thing—”
“Stella,” he interrupted when he sensed another load of bullshit about Mikhail what’s-his-face or whatever else she planned to say to him. “Why are you talking to me about Matt? If he wanted to take a class with you, he would have told me.”
“But he thinks you won’t let him,” she admitted.
“Hold up a sec. Are you telling me Matt came to you and asked for ballet training? For football?”
Stella sat there, then slowly nodded.
“Why didn’t he come to me first?”
Stella huffed out a breath as though she’d already lost. “Okay, here’s the thing,” she started. “And this isn’t how this whole thing was supposed to go—”
“Yeah, got that,” he stated.
She blinked at his interruption. “Is the issue that you don’t want Matt taking ballet? Or that he didn’t ask you first?”
He paused, then bit into his burger. “Both.”
Stella blew out a breath. “That’s lame. Can we set aside for one minute the circumstance in which Matt came to see me?” Stella said with exasperation. “Let’s get back to the ballet thing. Matt wants to take lessons with me and since he’s a minor, you need to sign him up.”
That was it? In that case…
“I don’t think so,” he finally said.
The server delivered the food. Stella blew out a breath, then took an enormous bite, leaving a smudge of mayonnaise on her lower lip. “Mmmm,” she said. “Now that’s a damn good burger.” She kept talking, but Brandon could only stare and ball his hands into fists to keep from swiping the mayonnaise away with his thumb. “I’ll have you know that not one of them has had their masculinity questioned, or whatever it is you’re worried about.” She paused as though waiting for his response. “And now you’ve tuned me out.”
God, she was cute when she was annoyed. Brandon sighed as he picked up his napkin. “Hold still a minute.”
But she jerked away when he reached toward her. “What’re you doing?”
Jesus, what did she think he was going to do?
He resisted rolling his eyes at her. Barely. “Lean forward a little and sit still for a sec.”
Finally she complied, leaning forward just enough for him to reach her with his napkin.
Sweat built up between his shoulder blades when her blue eyes darkened and her breath hitched. Despite the heat arcing between them, Brandon managed not to touch her more than necessary, even though he wanted to ditch the dirty napkin and skim his fingers along her jaw.
He dropped the napkin to his plate and cleared his throat. “You had a spot of mayo on your mouth.”
Stella automatically reached up and touched her lower lip, even though Brandon had taken care it. “You could have just told me,” she muttered.
He offered her a crooked grin. “What fun would that have been?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re sick.”
She had no idea.
“You were saying something about masculinity?” he prompted, desperate to get the conversation away from Stella’s mouth. Even if it was to talk about ballet.
Stella gazed at him for a moment, then dug back in to her burger. “I just think your hang-up with ballet is possibly threatening Matt’s masculinity.”
He rested his elbows on the table and enjoyed the red coloring her cheeks. Yeah, she was good and worked up. “You think that’s what’s worrying me?”
“Well, then what’s your problem?”
His problem was her. Seeing more of her than he already was. Bad enough he saw her at all the football games and bumped into her around town. He was trying to keep a friendly distance because she bothered him. Like, fantasizing about what she looked like under her clothes bothered. How was he supposed to keep himself in check if she kept putting herself in his way?
“Just bring him to one class. If he hates it, you don’t have to bring him back.”
“I already told you, it’s not happening.”
Stella pushed her half-empty plate away. She stared at him for a moment, then leaned her elbows on the table. “Okay, how about this,” she said, completely undeterred. “I waive my enrollment fee and if after one month you don’t see a difference on the field, you can pull him.”
Brandon chomped on his burger some more.
She dropped her head back and heaved a sigh. “Why won’t you let me help him?”
“Because I don’t think it’ll help.”
“But you haven’t even tried. Talk to some of the other kids on the team. Ask them how it’s helped them.”
Brandon wiped his hands on a napkin, then tossed the napkin down. “Why are you so hell-bent on this? Why does Matt’s football performance matter to you?”
Stella lifted one elegant shoulder, which had been bared when the neckline of her loose top had slipped. “Because when a kid comes to me and asks for help, I like to try and find a way to make it work. And he really wants a scholarship.”
Brandon watched her for a moment, moving his gaze over her features, touching on her narrow chin, the smattering of freckles across her nose, and her clear eyes, which were as blue as the sky above them. Her hair was a hot mess today, thrown into a messy ponytail, darker on top then fading to blond at the ends. As much as she confused him, she also amazed him. She was all spitfire and sass in a lithe body. Her legs were long and lean, a testament to years of dancing that had shaped her body to resemble a man’s wet dream.
Bottom line, he liked Stella. She pushed his buttons and turned him on. And that was also why he needed to stay away from her. He’d been burned too badly in the past to let himself fall for a pair of big blue eyes and kick-ass legs. The last woman he’d been serious about strung him along and left him high and dry with a toddler after years of empty promises.
“What else?” he prodded.
She blinked at him. “What else?” she repeated.
“You’re not doing this just because you like Matt. You don’t know him that well, so there has to be something more.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it as though rethinking whatever she’d been about to say. He wasn’t sure she even knew why pursuing this was so important to her. Maybe she didn’t like to be told no. Maybe she didn’t back down from a challenge.
Or maybe she had an ulterior motive that he didn’t even want to think about. Stella didn’t strike him as deceptive. Using Matt to get close to Brandon. No, she was better than that.
Stella leaned her elbows on the table. “Okay, you want to know the truth?”
He steepled his fingers together. “Please.”
“I think you’ve realized by now that I’m a doer.” When he arched a brow at her, she forged on. “I’m also a fixer. And I like to help people. It’s one of the reasons I became an instructor. When I see someone I can help, or where I can step in in some way, I go for it. I don’t like to sit back and not do something.”
Brandon nodded. “That’s admirable.”
She beamed a smile at him that punched him in the gut. “Thank you.”
“But my son isn’t a charity case.”
Stella rolled her eyes at him. “I didn’t say that, Brandon.”
“And he’s not someone you need to fix.”
“I didn’t say that either.”
“So where do we go from here?” he pressed.
“You let me help,” she answered with a shrug, as though it were that simple.
As much as he wanted to, Brandon couldn’t bring himself to disappoint her. “I’m not sure yet.”
Her mouth slowly curled into a grin, as she knew she had him. “Doesn’t sound like a no to me.”
He stood and tossed some bills on the table for a tip. “No promises.”
Two
Brandon spent the entire drive to the high school kicking himself for allowing Stella to get under his skin. Again. He’d made a rule to keep his distance from her since their one date a year and a half ago. She thought it was because she’d thrown up on him. If he were smart, he’d let her keep thinking that. No, the problem was he’d liked her too much. It hadn’t taken him long to realize he could fall too easily for her. He couldn’t afford to jump into anything with Stella, then be left high and dry when she decided to leave. Because people always left. He’d learned that the hard way with his ex, Trisha. And the Blanco Valley rumor mill was in full swing with whispers of Stella going back to Chicago to choreograph for her former company.
Brandon pulled into the high school parking lot and exited his truck. Practice had long since ended, but the head coach was on the field with Matt, giving him extra attention and instruction.
With Blake Carpenter in control of the team, everyone was pretty confident the Bobcats could have a repeat of last year’s winning season. Matt desperately wanted more playtime, and Blake wanted to give it to him. Brandon’s cousin was a fair coach who loved his players, but he was also practical.
Brandon couldn’t think of a better man to coach the kids. Not only was Blake one of the best people Brandon knew, but he’d also been a legendary quarterback who’d dominated the game for almost fifteen years before he’d retired a few years ago.
Brandon spotted the assistant coach, his friend Cameron, on the sidelines.
“How’s it going?” Brandon asked him.
Cameron had removed his baseball cap, revealing matted, shaggy dark hair. “It’s going,” he answered. “He did good at practice. He just needs to work on his coordination.”
Stella’s face instantly flashed across his mind. Hadn’t she said something about coordination? Damn, he didn’t want her to be right.
But Matt’s the one who wants the lessons.
And it still rankled that his own son felt like he couldn’t come to him about that. Was Brandon that much of an ogre? Maybe he needed to work on being more approachable.
On the field, Blake demonstrated a blocking move, which Matt attempted to replicate. Blake did his demonstration again, then gave the ball to Matt.
The scene reminded Brandon of his own football-playing days. When he’d been young and optimistic and the only thing he’d cared about, besides Trisha, had been the glare of those stadium lights. The sounds of the band. The crowd. Hearing his name through the speakers as he’d thrown himself across the end zone to score those precious points. That had all been during a time when he’d thought he was set. He’d go off to college with Blake, play some ball, and hopefully get drafted.
Every guy’s dream, right?
Well, he’d been no different. Only, God had had other plans for him in the form of a seven-pound screaming infant and—poof—he’d gone from being a football god to an eighteen-year-old construction worker trying to make ends meet for his new wife and son.
“I noticed the recruiters on the sidelines,” Brandon commented. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”
Cameron lifted one shoulder. “Not necessarily. Some of them like to get an early start. See which kids show the most promise.”
Brandon knew Matt wanted to play ball in college. The only thing the two disagreed on was where the kid should go. Brandon wanted him to go to University of Colorado Boulder because it was in state, thus cheaper, and they had an excellent business program. But Matt wanted to attend the University of Texas…aka the Longhorns…aka football central…aka way beyond Brandon’s financial capabilities. He certainly didn’t want to burden his kid with financial issues. However, he wasn’t sure how he could keep Matt from applying to UT without cluing him in.
“But, Dad, that’s where Adrienne’s going,” Matt would say, referring to his girlfriend of five months.
That was all fine and good. Adrienne’s parents could afford to send their only daughter to any school she wanted. It just so happened to have an incredible football team, which was just about all Matt cared about, and it was double the cost.
It was one of those subjects he kept putting off. But it was only a matter of time before the two went head-to-head about it.
“Did you notice the recruiter for CU?” Cameron asked.
“Yeah.” Brandon kept his gaze on the action on the field. “I also noticed the guy with the Longhorns shirt.”
Cameron waved a hand in the air. “I told you not to worry about that. Do you know how many times I changed my mind about college?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t have a girl tugging you around by the pecker,” Brandon reminded his friend.
Cameron dipped his head. “You have a point. But the school year just started. Anything could happen. Do you know how many high school relationships come and go?”
Yeah, Brandon knew that. His own relationship with Trisha was excellent proof.
Cameron held up a hand, because he knew full well the relationship Brandon had had with Trisha. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that.”
Brandon shook his head and waved his friend’s concerns away. “Don’t worry about it. I was young and stupid.”
“Weren’t we all?” Cameron countered with a tilt of his mouth.
“I wanted to get your opinion on Boulder,” Brandon told him. “What do you think about their football team?”
Cameron puffed out a breath and watched Matt. “They’re not bad. I mean, I wouldn’t call them a powerhouse, certainly not compared to the Longhorns.” He stared back at Brandon. “But Boulder isn’t where Matt wants to go.”
Brandon lifted his eyes to the darkening sky. “Don’t remind me. I can’t even say the word college without him getting all pissy.”
“What’s wrong with UT?” Cam asked.
“Nothing, except I can’t afford it. Not to mention I don’t want him following a girl he thinks he loves only to have the relationship end.”
Cameron’s brow pinched. “I thought Matt had a college fund.”
“He does.” Which was tied up in Brandon’s business. “But it’s not enough for a school like that. He’d have to get a scholarship, and we both know my son won’t be getting any football scholarships to the University of Texas.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Cameron pointed out. “Then again, playing football for the Buffs wouldn’t be so bad either.”
Brandon scrubbed a hand over his rough jaw. “Try telling Matt that.”
“He’s a kid. We didn’t listen at that age either.”
And wasn’t that the truth? He hadn’t listened when his aunt, Blake’s mother, had warned him about Trisha. “She’s flighty,” Blake’s mom would say. “The girl’s got her head in the clouds and you need to put her behind you.” Unfortunately, Brandon hadn’t listened because he’d been so enamored with her too-big-for-her-face green eyes, long legs, and infectious sense of humor. Five months later she’d called him to meet her behind the bleachers at the school. Through a stream of tears she’d informed him she was pregnant and that her daddy was going to kill her if they didn’t get married. So he’d married her, telling himself everyone was wrong about her. That Trisha loved him and Matt and would never leave for greener pastures.
He’d never been so wrong or so heartbroken.
“Give the kid some time,” Cam urged. “Applications aren’t due for a few months anyway. And right now I need him focusing on the team and making state. If you have a kid who plays for a state championship team, he’ll have a better chance of getting offers.”
Brandon and Matt drove home after practice. The second they were in Brandon’s truck, Matt dug his earbuds out of his backpack and stuck them in his ears.
Because heaven forbid the kid have a conversation with his father. At least one that didn’t begin and end with him grunting some non-answer. Music blared from Matt’s phone, which Brandon could hear through the earbuds, effectively cutting off any hope Brandon had of talking to his own kid.
Brandon pressed the accelerator and went through a green light, taking them through town and toward home. Haystack Mountain loomed in the distance, jutting above the valley, soaring past even the clouds with the sort of majesty that only God could give. The legendary Champion’s Valley sign, built out of white boulders during the Bobcats’ state-winning team run that lasted about fifteen years, had been strategically placed lower on the mountain so that anyone in the town could see it. A constant reminder that their team used to be great and could be great again.
Brandon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and shot Matt a glance.
His hair, as dark and unruly as Brandon’s, was matted with dried sweat and plastered to his head. Matt’s legs, long and lanky, also like Brandon’s, were stretched along the floorboard in front of him. Bottom line, Matt was a mini version of himself in both looks and personality.
He slugged the kid on the shoulder, motioning for him to remove his earbuds.
“Yeah?” Matt asked after he’d yanked the things from his ears.
“I ta. . .
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