The Soccer Player and the Single Mom (Quail Hollow)

by Kyra Jacobs

  She backed out of the lot, scowling at the condemnation papers clinging to her rental’s front window. It was so frustrating, being displaced like this. Thankfully, by tonight she should have the place cleaned out—the sooner the better for both her sanity and her schedule.

  She tried to focus on the road ahead while rubbing the kink she’d woken with in her neck. Though the bath had helped work away yesterday’s aches and pains, Tyler crawling into bed with her at 2 a.m. and then sleeping with either an elbow or his knees in her back the rest of the night had brought all those aches back and then some. Not that she would have gotten much sleep, anyway, after that surprise kiss from Scott.

  Oh, that kiss.

  Butterflies lit in her stomach at the thought. She hadn’t seen it coming, would have never believed it if she hadn’t been right there experiencing it in the hallway. Seriously, who would have thought a guy like him would want to kiss a woman like her? A widowed, single mother with enough baggage to fill half of Edna’s house.

  Then again, Scott was supposedly some big soccer celebrity. Maybe going around kissing random women was perfectly normal in his world. She knew better than to read into it too deeply.

  A grin tugged at her lips at the memory, regardless.

  She’d been kissed by a celebrity. Wait until Lauren hears about this.

  As Quail Hollow faded into the distance, Edna’s property came into view. It really was a beautiful sight, the grand old farmhouse sitting a short way back from the road. Her evergreen hedge acted as a natural fence between the park strip and broad front yard, broken only by the asphalt driveway. A pink polka dotted mailbox stood like a roadside sentry, ensuring no one confused Edna’s house for another.

  Felicity turned down the drive and worked to push that kiss with Mr. Holy Chiseled Abs from her mind. It’d been a one-time thing, a fluke, maybe even a sly attempt to scare her off. But it’d take a lot more than possibly the sweetest kiss of her life to send her packing. This job was the only sure thing she had at the moment.

  Besides, J.B. had sent her an assignment this morning, a simple list of public speaking engagements he wanted her to go over with Scott. Surely, the man would let her help with that.

  Bruno greeted her with a few awkward hops followed by a spraying snort the moment she stepped inside, the act of entering without knocking still feeling…odd. This might be their temporary residence for a few weeks, but it didn’t feel like home. Not yet, anyway.

  “It’s just me,” she called out.

  Edna peeked around the kitchen corner wearing a ruffled apron that matched her mailbox and motioned Felicity inside.

  “If you want breakfast, you’d better step it up, missy,” she said loudly. “I can only hold off my bottomless pit of a grandson for so long.”

  Said bottomless pit sat with his back to them, sawing through a stack of pancakes. Either he was ignoring her in an attempt to play off the kiss they’d shared last night, or he was just really focused on his meal.

  “Oh, I’m good,” Felicity said. “Not really a—”

  “What?” Edna plucked a hidden earbud out of her right ear. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you over my tunes. What was that?”

  Tunes? She stepped forward, grinning. “Thank you, but I’m not much of a breakfast person.” Not entirely true, but not a complete lie. Anxiety always did kill her appetite.

  “Nonsense. A person’s gotta eat, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Even Knucklehead will agree with me on that one.”

  Scott took a heaping bite of pancake, realized their attention had turned to him, and humored them with a chipmunk-cheeked smile. Finally, something made him look less like a GQ model. She tried not to notice the way he seemed completely at ease with her arrival, as if their kiss hadn’t affected him.

  And why shouldn’t he be? It probably hadn’t.

  Edna slipped the earbud back into place and resumed her station at the griddle as Felicity eased into the seat adjacent to Scott’s. At least he was fully clothed again. Far easier not to ogle when those abs were sufficiently hidden.

  “Did something happen while I was gone?” she asked.

  “What, you mean the name calling?” He shrugged and stabbed another forkful of flapjacks. “Nah, she’s always like this. I’m used to it.”

  Somewhere between her worry that Tyler would pick up bad habits from Edna rather than Scott and her inner debate over how to broach the subject of work, a mile-high plate of pancakes appeared on the table before her. Felicity glanced up in time to see a stern-faced Edna pouring her a glass of orange juice.

  “Now, you eat up, and don’t even think about getting up from the table until that plate is empty, young lady.”

  “But—”

  Edna raised a hand to silence her, plucked both earbuds free, and peeled the apron up and over her head with expert deftness that left not a hair out of place. “No buts. You eat, I gotta finish getting ready.”

  “Getting ready for what?” Felicity asked, watching her go.

  “What’s today?” Scott said.

  “Wednesday.”

  He nodded. “Euchre.”

  “At eight in the morning?”

  “That’s pretty late for her. Bridge is at seven thirty on Mondays, Canasta at six thirty on Tuesday. Thursday used to be Pinochle, don’t remember the time.”

  Felicity chuckled. The woman had a crazier schedule than she did. “And Saturdays?”

  “Oh, no, Edna never schedules anything before noon on Saturdays.” His smile faded to a look of reverence. “Stays up too late on Fridays playing Bingo.”

  “Bingo?”

  “You’ll get used to her routine soon enough.”

  Routine. And there it was, the perfect opening for them to go over today’s agenda. “Well, I guess with Edna gone that will give us plenty of—”

  “Ah, ah, ah, no talking work at the table.” He leaned in, lowering his voice as he unleashed the full power of those gorgeous green eyes on her. “Seriously, if you wanna see Edna lose it, talk work at the table. Otherwise, I suggest you finish your breakfast. She’s expecting a clean plate, remember.”

  As Scott rose to hobble his dishes to the sink, Felicity looked at the mountain of carbs sitting before her. He had to be kidding—there were five pancakes there! She couldn’t eat that much as a kid, let alone now.

  “But…where are you going?”

  “Out back, to let my stomach digest.”

  “And then we can talk about—”

  He put a finger to his lips. “I really wasn’t kidding about Edna and work talk at the table. She will flip. Her. Lid.”

  Just like J.B. would if she didn’t get that list back to him like she’d promised. Maybe fire her, too. “But—”

  “Oh, and whatever you do, don’t try to dump your leftovers in the trash. Growing up I was convinced the woman had a sixth sense when it came to disturbances with her garbage cans. Eat, then we can talk. I promise.”

  Scott grabbed his crutches, gave her a wink—a wink, the jerk—and ambled from the room, leaving her to stew alone. At least she knew he couldn’t go far, not with his “no driving” medical restrictions. Then again, he might be able to hobble pretty far by the time she finished all this.

  She eyed the plate in front of her, for the first time in her life hating pancakes. Why on earth had Edna given her so many, anyway? Whistling drifted in from an open window somewhere nearby, and Felicity had her answer. It was Scott who’d convinced his grandmother to load up her plate. The SOB was stalling.

  “If you think an oversize breakfast is going to keep me from getting any work done today, buddy,” she grumbled, snatching her fork and knife off the table, “you’ve got another thing coming.”

  …

  Scott sat on his grandmother’s screened in back porch, enjoying the quiet. September in Indiana could be brutally hot and humid, but today’s thick blanket of cool air hanging just above dew-covered grass showed the first hint of fall. How many mornings had he spent out
doors the past sixteen or so years, running and dribbling through it? He itched to be out there now, reacquainting himself with the routine he so badly missed.

  “Scott?”

  Unfortunately, he had a different task that required his attention right now: devising a way to spend as little time with Felicity Shaw as possible.

  It’d been a foolish move on his part, kissing her like that last night. And, contrary to his initial thoughts, one little taste had definitely not been enough to get her off his mind. He needed some space to get his head on straight and his priorities back in focus—tough to do with Felicity and her son temporarily living under the same roof.

  “Scott?” she called again.

  Rather than alert her to his place on the porch—she’d find him soon enough—he scanned the shopping list he’d started: new shin guards and covers, protein shake refills, dumbbells. Shopping would send her away and create the distance he needed. Plus, these were all things he knew weren’t available in town. And, oh darn, a trip into Fort Wayne might eat up a good portion of her day.

  She’d wanted to help, so here was her chance.

  After another minute or two, Felicity poked her head out the door, her ponytail swinging forward across a slender shoulder and face looking far less green than he’d expected. “There you are.”

  She stepped onto the porch with Bruno weaving between her feet and lowered into a wicker chair across from him. Did she have any idea how delicious she looked in those hip-hugging shorts and breezy green top? Yet another reason he wanted her gone. Or maybe he could request his PA start dressing in potato sacks. He tried to picture her in one and realized too late what a bad idea that was. A potato sack would show off far too much leg. And then there was the whole needing to strip out of those clothes to put one on…

  He gave himself a mental slap and cleared his throat. “How was your breakfast?”

  Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Tasty.”

  Bruno dropped onto his belly at Scott’s feet and let out a loud belch. Scott’s gaze shifted from the Pom to Felicity.

  “Was it, now?”

  “Oh, yes. And FYI, your grandmother just stepped out. Does she…always drive a golf cart to play cards?”

  Scott grinned. “She goes everywhere in that thing. Drives the Quail Hollow cops crazy.”

  “Edna doesn’t own a car?”

  “Technically, my grandfather’s old Lincoln is in the garage. But she can’t take it out—Edna doesn’t have a license.”

  “Yikes. Was it revoked?”

  “No, she just never bothered getting one. Didn’t need to while my grandfather was alive. After he passed, she decided she didn’t have time to deal with all the bureaucracy involved in getting one.”

  To this day, he could still picture the incredulous look on her face when they’d last discussed it. I have to take a test? Two tests? Well, screw that. You can drive me around. They both knew it’d been an empty threat—Scott wouldn’t be sticking around, and Edna hated relying on anyone beside herself.

  “Her neighbor helped soup up the golf cart,” he continued. “Even put a bigger engine in it. She’s not allowed to take it on the highway, but she can keep up with the local traffic just fine. I’m surprised you haven’t seen her around.”

  “Trust me, I would have noticed passing a pink golf cart.”

  He laughed. “Knowing Edna, she would have been passing you.”

  “Probably.” She grinned. “Anyway, she’s gone, breakfast is done, so I thought we could—”

  “Exercise.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Yeah, not the most creative excuse, but with her smile distracting him like that, it was the best he could come up with. Scott shifted to the edge of his seat. “It’s time for my exercises.”

  “Oh. You mean like, physical therapy?”

  Ha, if only.

  “Nope, I mean like exercise. Do it every day before and after breakfast. Just had to wait for my food to digest.”

  Her look grew wary. “I thought you said your routine was exercise, breakfast, and reviewing film?”

  Scott considering adding kissing to the list, then gave himself another mental smack. Wow, did he need her gone. Hopefully for hours. “I, uh, was trying not to complicate things.”

  “But…what about your knee?”

  “Yeah, it sucks that I can’t use it much right now, but that doesn’t keep me from doing some of my core workouts.”

  “Like?”

  Oh, she was good. And totally not buying it. Time to change tactics.

  “You know, pull-ups, arm work, pushups. If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to stay and watch.” He gave her a wink.

  “No. No, I’m good.”

  She turned away, a pretty pink tinting her cheeks. Bingo. And it seemed little miss cool, calm, and collected was still thinking about their kiss this morning, too. She’d played it off at the breakfast table, acting as though nothing had happened between them. It’d kept Edna from jumping to any conclusions but hadn’t done his ego any favors. Still, it’d be wise to send her on a day-long shopping expedition, before either one of them got the brilliant idea to pick up where they left off.

  “Suit yourself. Oh, hey, while I’m doing this, would you be able to knock out a few errands for me?”

  “Sure, of course.” Felicity nodded. Was that a look of relief on her face? “And maybe while I’m gone, you can look over this list J.B. sent me.”

  “List?”

  “Of public relations opportunities. He wants to get your face out there more, so the fans don’t forget you while you’re sidelined.”

  Public relations? Scott frowned. What did PR stunts have to do with getting him back on the field? If there was anyone who needed reminding that he wasn’t going anywhere, it was the kid filling in for him while he was gone.

  “Yeah, sure. No problem. J.B. usually helps me with this stuff, but since he headed back to Columbus, well, I guess that’s why he hired you, right?”

  “Right.” She smiled. “See? I can be of some help.”

  “I guess so.” Scott met her gaze and nearly got lost in those chocolate brown eyes again. Which was bad, very bad. He needed her gone—the longer the better.

  “You know what?” he said. “You’d better give me your number, in case I realize I’ve forgotten something on my list.”

  “Good idea. Here, give me your phone. I’ll text myself so I’ve got yours as well.”

  Numbers and lists exchanged, she rose and headed for the door. Scott remained in place, enjoying the view of her ponytail bobbing and hips swaying. Oh yes, there was a very good possibility more items would be added to the list to keep her gone longer.

  In fact, he’d make sure of it.

  …

  Felicity dropped onto Lauren’s sofa at eleven o’clock that night, utterly exhausted. The duplex was empty, all her worldly possessions packed yet again and now sitting in a mountain of cardboard one floor below. The furniture had been collected by Lauren’s husband and his friends shortly after dinner and deposited in a storage unit a few miles away, which meant she was finally done dealing with her stingy landlord. It should have been reason to celebrate, but she was simply too tired to care.

  “So, how’d it go with Mr. Soccer Star today?”

  Felicity cast her cousin a dark look. “It didn’t.”

  “What do you mean? He didn’t try to get you fired for leaving early yesterday, did he?”

  “Oh, no. No, he put me to good use today. Or at least, that’s what he wants me to believe.” She pulled Scott’s wadded up shopping list from her pocket and handed it to Lauren.

  “What’s this?”

  “That is what I spent all day driving around shopping for.”

  “Cherry-flavored lip balm?” Lauren glanced up to briefly meet her gaze. “Are you serious?”

  “Totally. I know it doesn’t look like much, but it started with only five or six items. By ten o’clock, he’d texted a handful more. By lunchtime
”—she threw her hands up—“I’d lost count. And, of course, none of them were sold at the same store.”

  Lauren laughed softly. “So what you’re telling me is, he spent the day trying to get rid of you.”

  “Yup. Which means the one thing his agent asked me to do today didn’t get done.” Scott’s shopping trip had consumed a good five hours of her day and nearly a full tank of gas, not to mention the miles it’d put on her aging Trailblazer. She lay back and closed her eyes, trying to keep her temper from shifting into a pity party. “I need the money, Laur.”

  “And you’ll get your money, just like his agent promised.”

  “But what if I don’t? What if I can’t get Scott to cooperate and his agent fires me? I should be out looking for another job, not dealing with this devious bastard.”

  “Uh-oh, she’s almost swearing—it must be serious.” Lauren ducked as Felicity grabbed a pillow and chucked it in her direction. “Oh, relax. I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

  “Well, you can stop now, because it’s not getting lightened.”

  “Interesting. I always took you for more of a get-even kind of girl.”

  That made her pause. “Get even, how?”

  “He ran you ragged today, right?”

  “Yes. And then some.”

  Lauren shrugged. “Then you do the same to him. Find a way to take the upper hand.”

  “How? I’m the outsider here and don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

  “Perfect, because from the sounds of it, neither does he.”

  It was true. Nothing about her interactions with Scott so far indicated he’d ever had a personal assistant before, only that he definitely didn’t want one hanging around. Too bad that’s exactly what she was getting paid to do. How would doing her job translate into getting even with Scott? “I don’t get it.”

  “Look,” said Lauren, “when you talked to his agent this morning, what were some of the things he wanted you to do?”

  “He sent me a list of public relations stints he wanted Scott to look over. Things like radio interviews, making appearances at local soccer events, giving pep talks to kids. Once Scott narrows down the list, I’m supposed to call and set up appointments. When it comes time for each, I’m to drive Scott to them and take pictures and videos of the events. J.B. will collect it all and post them on social media to keep Scott’s name in front of his fans. Only, Scott didn’t give the list a second glance. Said he was too busy reviewing film or something while I was gone.”