Читать книгу It Started with a Crush... - Melissa McClone, Melissa Mcclone - Страница 9

THAT afternoon, the front door burst open with so much force Lucy thought a tornado had touched down in Wicksburg. She stood her ground in the living room, knowing this burst of energy wasn’t due to Mother Nature—the warning siren hadn’t gone off—but was man, er, boy-made.

Manny usually couldn’t wait for Connor to get home and make another escape attempt, but the cat hightailed it into the kitchen. A ball of dark fur slid across the linoleum before disappearing from sight.

Connor flew into the house, strands of his strawberry-blond hair going every which way. He was lanky, the way his dad had been at that age, all limbs with not an ounce of fat on him. The set of his jaw and the steely determination in his eyes made him seem more superhero than a four-and-a-half-foot third grader. All he needed was a cape to wear over his jersey and jeans.

“Hey.” Lucy knew he wanted to know about her visit to Ryland, but the sexy soccer player had been on her mind since she’d left him. Much to her dismay. She didn’t want to start her time with Connor focused on the guy, too. “Did you have a good day at school? You had a spelling quiz, right?”

He slammed the front door closed. The entire house shook. His backpack hung precariously off one thin shoulder, but he didn’t seem to care. “Did you talk to Ryland James?”

Connor had the same one-track mind as her brother. When Aaron had something he wanted to do, like joining the military, he defined tunnel vision.

Lucy might as well get this over with. “I went to Mr. and Mrs. James’s house this morning. Ryland liked the cookies we baked.”

The backpack thudded against the entryway’s tile floor. Anticipation filled Connor’s blue eyes. “Is he going to coach the Defeeters?”

This was the part she hadn’t been looking forward to since leaving the Jameses’ house. “No, but Ryland offered to see if he can find the team a coach. He’s also going to come out and talk to the team.”

Different emotions crossed Connor’s face. Sadness, anger, surprise. A thoughtful expression settled on his features. “I guess he must be really busy.”

“Ryland’s trying to heal and stay in shape.” Her temperature rose remembering how he looked in only a pair of shorts and gleam of sweat. “He doesn’t plan on being in town long. Maybe a month or so. He wants to rejoin his team as soon as he can.”

Manny peered around the doorway to the kitchen, saw Connor and ran to him.

Connor picked up the cat. “I guess I would want to do that, too.”

Poor kid. He was trying to put on a brave face. She wished things could be different for him. “There’s still time to find the Defeeters a coach.”

He stared over the cat’s head. “That’s what you said last week. And the week before that.”

“True, but now I have help looking for a coach.” Lucy hoped Ryland had been serious about his offer and came through for … the boys. “A good thing, otherwise, you’ll be stuck with me.”

Connor nodded.

She ruffled his hair. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re the one who said it.” He flashed her a lopsided grin. “But no matter what happens, having you for a coach is better than not playing at all.”

Lucy hoped he was right. “I’ll do my best if it comes down to that.”

“It won’t.” Connor sounded so confident.

“How do you know?”

“If Ryland James said he’d find us a coach, he will.”

She’d been disappointed too many times to put that much faith into someone. Ryland had seemed sincere and enthusiastic. But so had others. Best not to raise Connor’s hopes too high on the chance his favorite player didn’t come through after all. “Ryland said he’d try. He’s going to call me.”

“Have you checked your voice mail yet?” Connor asked.

His eagerness made her smile. She’d been wondering when the call might come herself. They both needed to be realistic. “I just saw Ryland a couple hours ago.”

“Hours? He could have found us five coaches by now.”

She doubted that.

“All Ryland James has to do is snap his fingers and people will come running,” Connor continued.

Lucy could imagine women running to the gorgeous Ryland. She wasn’t so sure the same could be said about coaches. Not unless they were female.

“Check your cell phone,” Connor encouraged.

The kid was relentless … like his dad. “Give Ryland time to snap his fingers. I mean, make calls. I know this is important to you, but a little patience here would be good.”

“You could call him.”

No, she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. “He said he’d call. Rushing him wouldn’t be nice.”

She also didn’t want to give Ryland the wrong impression so he might think she was interested in him. A guy like him meant one thing—heartbreak. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

“Let’s give him at least a day, maybe two, to call us, okay?” she suggested.

“Okay,” Connor agreed reluctantly.

She bit back a laugh. “How about some cookies and milk while you tell me about school?”

Maybe that would get Ryland James out of Connor’s thoughts. And hers, too.

“Sure.” As he walked toward the kitchen, he looked back at her. “So does Ryland James have a soccer field in his backyard?”

Lucy swallowed a sigh. And then maybe not.

After dinner, Ryland retreated with Cupcake into the media room aka his dad’s man cave. He had all he needed—laptop, cell phone, chocolate-chip cookies, Lucy’s business card and a seventy-inch LED television with ESPN playing. As soon as Ryland found Lucy a coach for her nephew’s team, he would call her with the good news.

Forget the delicious cookies she’d made. The only dessert he wanted was to hear her sweet voice on the opposite end of the phone.

Ryland laughed. He must need some feminine attention if he felt this way.

But seeing Lucy again had made him feel good. She also had him thinking about the past. Many of his childhood memories living in Wicksburg were like bad dreams, ones he’d pushed to the far recesses of his mind and wanted to keep there. But a few others, like the ones he remembered now, brought a welcome smile to his face.

Cupcake lay on an Indianapolis Colts dog bed.

Even though Ryland played soccer, his dad preferred football, the American kind. But his dad had never once tried to change Ryland’s mind about what sport to play. Instead, his father had done all he could so Ryland could succeed in the sport. He would be nowhere without his dad and his mom.

And youth soccer.

He’d learned the basic skills and the rules of the game playing in the same rec. league Aaron’s son played in. When Ryland moved to a competitive club, playing up a year from his own age group, his dad’s boss, Mr. Buckley, who owned a local farm, bought Ryland new cleats twice a year. Not cheap ones, but the good kind. Mr. Martin, Aaron and Lucy’s dad, would drive Ryland to away games and tournaments when his parents had to work.

Lucy taking care of Aaron’s son didn’t surprise Ryland. The Martins had always been a loyal bunch.

In elementary school, other kids used to taunt him. Aaron stood up for Ryland even before they were teammates. Once they started playing on the same team, they became good friends. But Ryland had wanted to put Wicksburg behind him when he left.

And he had.

He’d focused all his effort and energy into being the best soccer player he could be.

Now that he was back in town, finding a soccer coach was the least he could do for his old friend Aaron. Ryland pressed the mute button on the television’s remote then picked up his cell phone. This wouldn’t take long.

Two hours later, he disconnected from yet another call. He couldn’t believe it. No matter whom he’d spoken with, the answer was still the same—no. Only the reason for not being able to coach changed.

“Wish I could help you out, Ryland, but I’m already coaching two other teams.”

“Gee, if I’d known sooner …”

“Try the high school. Maybe one of the students could do it as a class project or something.”

Ryland placed his cell phone on the table. Even the suggestion to contact the high school had led to a dead end. No wonder Lucy had asked him to coach Connor’s team.

Ryland looked at Cupcake. “What am I going to do?”

The dog kept her eyes closed.

“Go ahead. Pretend you don’t hear me. That’s what everyone else has done tonight.”

Okay, not quite. His calling had resulted in four invitations to dinner and five requests to speak to soccer teams. Amazing how things and his status in town had changed. All his hard work had paid off. Though he was having to start over with Mr. McElroy and the Fuego.

“I need to find Lucy a coach.”

Cupcake stretched.

Something flashed on the television screen. Highlights from a soccer match.

Yearning welled inside him. He missed the action on the field, the adrenaline pushing through him to run faster and the thrill of taking the ball toward the goal and scoring. Thinking about playing soccer was making him nostalgic for days when kids, a ball and some grass defined the game in its simplest and purest form.

Lucy’s business card caught his eye.

Attraction flared to life. He wanted to talk to her. Now.

Ryland picked up his cell phone. He punched in the first three digits of her number then placed the phone back on the table.

Calling her tonight would be stupid. Saying he wanted to hear her voice might be true, but he didn’t want to push too hard and scare her off. Other women might love a surprise phone call, but Lucy might not. She wasn’t like the women he dated.

That, he realized, surprisingly appealed to him. Sitting in his parents’ living room eating cookies and talking with a small-town girl had energized him in a way no visit to a top restaurant or trendy club with a date ever had.

Ryland stared at the cell phone. He wanted to talk to her, but if he called her he would have to admit his inability to find her a coach. That wouldn’t go over well.

With him, he realized with a start. Lucy wouldn’t be upset. She’d thank him for his efforts then take on the coaching role herself.

I can always coach, if need be.

You play soccer?

No, but I’ve been reading up on the game and watching coaching clips on the internet just in case.

He imagined her placing a whistle around her graceful neck and leading a team of boys at practice. Coaching would be nothing compared to what Lucy went through when she was sick. She would figure out the basics of what needed to be done and give the boys her all.

But she shouldn’t have to do that. She was doing enough taking care of her nephew. The same as Aaron and his wife.

His gaze focused on Lucy’s name on her business card. The script might be artistic and a touch whimsical, but it showed strength and ingenuity, too.

Ryland straightened. He couldn’t let people saying no stop him. He was tougher than that. “I might have screwed up my career, but I’m not going to mess up this.”

The dog stared at him.

“I’ll find Lucy and those kids a coach.”

No matter what he had to do.

Two days later, Lucy stood in the front yard kicking a soccer ball to Connor. The afternoon sun shone high in the sky, but the weather might as well be cloudy and gray due to the frown on her nephew’s face. Practices began next week and the Defeeters still didn’t have a coach. Ryland hadn’t called back, either.

She tapped the ball with her left foot. It rolled too far to the left, out of Connor’s reach and into the hedge separating the yard from the neighbor’s. Lucy grimaced. “Sorry.”

Connor didn’t say a word but chased the ball. She knew what he was thinking because his expression matched her thoughts. The team needed someone who knew soccer better than she did, someone who could teach the kids the right skills and knew rules without having to resort to a book each time.

Her efforts to find a coach had failed. That left one person who could come to her—and the team’s—rescue.

It won’t be long. I promise.

Ryland’s words returned to her in a rush. Pathetic, how quick she’d been to believe them. As if she hadn’t learned anything based on her past experiences.

Okay, it had been only a couple of days. “Long” could mean a few days, a week, even a month. But “promise” was a seven-letter word that held zero weight with most of the people in this world.

Was Ryland one of them?

Time would tell, but for Connor’s sake she hoped not. He kicked the ball back to her.

She stopped the ball with her right foot the way she’d seen someone do on a video then used the inside of her foot to kick the ball back. She had better control this time. “Your teacher liked your book report.”

“I guess.”

“You got an A.”

Connor kicked the ball her way without stopping it first. “Are you sure he hasn’t called?”

“He” equaled Ryland. Connor had been asking that question nonstop, including a call during lunchtime using a classmate’s cell phone.

Lucy patted her jeans pocket. “My phone’s right here.”

“You checked your messages?”

“I did.” And rechecked them. No messages from Ryland. From anyone for that matter. She hadn’t made any close friends in Chicago. The ones who lived in Wicksburg had remained friends with her ex-husband after Lucy moved away. That made things uncomfortable now that she was back. The pity in their eyes reminded her of when she’d been sick. She wanted no part of that ever again. “But it’s only been a couple of days.”

“It feels like forever.”

“I know.” Each time her cell phone rang, thinking it might be Ryland filled her stomach with tingles of anticipation. She hated that. She didn’t want to feel that way about any guy calling her, even if the reason was finding a coach for her nephew’s soccer team. “But good things come to those who wait.”

Connor rolled the ball back and forth along the bottom of his foot. “That’s what Mom and Dad say. I’m trying to be patient, but it’s hard.”

“I know it’s hard to wait, but we have to give Ryland time.”

Connor nodded.

Please come through, Ryland. Lucy didn’t want Connor’s favorite player letting him down at the worst possible time. She didn’t want her nephew to have to face the kind of betrayal and disappointment she’d suffered due to others. Not when he was only nine, separated from his parents by oceans and continents.

He kicked the ball to her. “Maybe Ryland forgot.”

Lucy didn’t want to go there. The ball rolled past her toward the sidewalk. She chased after it. “Give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Connor didn’t say anything.

She needed him to stop focusing so much on Ryland. “Your dad wants to see videotapes of your games. He can’t wait to see how the team does this spring.”

She kicked the ball back. Connor touched the ball twice with his foot before kicking it to her.

“Next time only one touch,” she said.

Surprise filled his blue eyes. “That’s what my dad says.”

“It might come as a shock, but your aunt knows a few things about the game of soccer.” She’d found a book on coaching on the living-room bookcase and attended a coaching clinic put on by the league last night while Connor had dinner over at a friend’s house. “How about we kick the ball a few times more, then go to the pizza parlor for dinner? You can play those video games you like so much.”

“Okay.”

Talk about an unenthused reaction.

An old beat-up, blue pickup truck pulled to the curb in front of the house. The engine idled loudly, as if in need of a tune-up. The engine sputtered off. The truck lurched forward a foot, maybe two.

The driver’s door opened. Ryland.

Her heart thumped.

It won’t be long. I promise.

Tingles filled her stomach. He hadn’t let her down. He was still the same nice guy he’d been in high school.

Ryland rounded the front of the truck. He wore a white polo shirt with the Fuego logo on the left side, a pair of khaki shorts and the boot on his right foot. He wore a tennis shoe on his left. His hair was nicely styled. He’d shaved, removing the sexy stubble.

Even with his clean-cut look, she knew not to let her guard down. The guy was still dangerous. The only reason she was happy to see him was Connor.

A little voice inside her head laughed at that. She ignored it.

“It’s him.” Awe filled Connor’s voice. “Ryland James.”

“Yes, it’s him,” she said.

Ryland crossed the sidewalk and stood near them on the lawn. “Hello.”

Lucy fought the urge to step back and put some distance between them. “Hi.”

He acknowledged her with a nod, but turned his attention to the kid with the stars in his eyes. “You must be Connor.”

Her nephew nodded.

Lucy’s heart melted. Ryland knew how important this moment must be for her nephew.

Connor wiped his right hand against his shorts then extended his arm. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. James.”

As Ryland shook his hand, he grinned. “Call me Ryland.”

Connor’s eyes widened. He looked almost giddy with excitement. “Okay, Ryland.”

He motioned to the soccer ball. “Looks like you’ve been practicing. It’s good to get some touches on the ball every day.”

Connor nodded. The kid was totally starstruck. Lucy didn’t blame him for being wowed by Ryland. She was, too.

Better be careful.

Ryland used his left foot to push the ball toward Connor. “Let’s see you juggle.”

Connor swooped up the ball and bounced it off his bony knees. He used his legs and feet to keep the ball from touching the ground.

“You’re doing great,” Ryland encouraged.

Connor beamed and kept going.

Ryland glanced at her. “He reminds me of Aaron.”

“Two peas in a pod,” she agreed.

The ball bounced away. Connor ran after it. “I’ll try it again.”

“The more you practice, the better you’ll get,” Ryland said.

“That’s what Aunt Lucy told me.”

His gaze met hers. Lucy’s pulse skittered at the flirtatious gleam in Ryland’s hazel eyes.

“Your aunt is a smart woman,” he said.

Lucy didn’t feel so smart. She wasn’t sure what to make of her reaction to Ryland being here. Okay, the guy was handsome. Gorgeous, really. But she knew better than to be bowled over by a man and sweet talk.

So why was she practically swooning over the sexy soccer star? Ryland showing up and the way he was interacting with Connor had to be the reason. Nothing else made sense.

She straightened. “I thought you were going to call.”

“I decided to stop by, instead.”

Warning bells rang in her head. “The address isn’t on my business card. How did you find this place?”

“I went into the café for a cup of coffee and asked where Aaron lived,” Ryland explained. “Three people offered directions.”