Goalie (Texas Mutiny Book 3)

by M. E. Carter

Before he can answer, Theo screams from his high chair, which is his way of saying he’s ready to get down.

  “This is terrible timing, Bug,” I say, as I quickly jump up and wet a washcloth to clean him up. Santos just chuckles.

  “Don’t worry, I can talk and stack dirty plates at the same time.”

  Pulling the tray off the high chair, I stand Theo up and begin the tedious process of cleaning off as much funk as possible.

  “Then spill. You can’t say something like that and expect me to wait until bedtime to hear the rest.”

  He chuckles again as he stacks. “As the executor, Tio wasn’t really able to say much about any stipulations or requirements that they had to meet. My only stipulations were to graduate from college and get married, but I’d done both of those long before she died. I have no idea what anyone else was supposed to do.”

  I throw the washcloth on the table and strip Theo of his clothes. This is useless. He’s going to need a bath no matter what. Especially as noodles start reappearing the minute his shirt is over his head.

  “It turns out, my mother had a major requirement as well as a time line.”

  I pause and look at him. “Which was?”

  He looks up at me and leans on his knuckles on the table. “To successfully complete a minimum six-month drug and alcohol rehabilitation program and remain clean for at least two years.”

  I gasp. “I knew there was speculation she was an addict, but no one’s ever confirmed it.”

  “I know. It made some of the puzzle pieces of my childhood come together, that’s for sure. And Justin is going to have a field day with this one.”

  “So as soon as she gets clean, she’ll get the money.”

  “Her time ran out, Mari. It ran out last week. Apparently, Abuela had put in the will that she had five years to meet the requirements or she defaulted on any rights to the money.”

  “She chose drugs over her mother’s legacy?” I whisper, stunned. I know how much Santos got and it’s significant. I can’t imagine any drug being worth that much money.

  “She chose drugs over a lot of things. Apparently even her own kid.”

  I look away when he says it. The subject of his mother has always been hard and I don’t want to make it any more uncomfortable than it already is.

  “What happens now?” I finally ask.

  He takes the dishes into the kitchen and dumps them in the sink, turning around to lean against the counter. I put Theo on the floor, all thoughts of giving him a bath have vanished, and follow Santos.

  “I get it.”

  Blinking my eyes rapidly, I try to make sense of what he just said. “No way. There’s no way that’s true.”

  “It is. It defaulted back to the estate to be distributed amongst the three of us. But the others don’t want it. Something about it being enough to make it worth the hassle of the taxes. I don’t know. They’re loaded, so I’m sure this looks like chump change to them.”

  “This is just crazy.”

  “I know. But it also means between this and the equity, we can buy that house outright. I can’t think of anything else Abuela would want that money used for than to make sure the kids have a good home of their own, can you?”

  I shake my head, because I can’t think of anything she’d want more. I didn’t know her well or for very long, but she loved her children with her whole heart and protected them fiercely. Even if it meant the threat of cutting them out of her will as motivation to change their life.

  Santos is staring at me, arms still crossed. He hasn’t moved from his spot.

  “It’s the right thing, Mari. I didn’t know you were looking at a house today. You didn’t know I got that phone call today. It’s like Abuela orchestrated the whole thing.”

  The thought of her still doing her best to protect us long after her passing makes me smile.

  “Ok,” I finally say. “Let’s do it.”

  He pushes away from the counter and kisses me on the top of the head as he walks by. “Good. My kids need a yard so I can set up a soccer goal. We need to work on those skills.”

  I laugh and begin washing dishes.

  Holy shit. I’m buying a house with Santos.

  Again.

  “As you can see, there are five groups. Each group has four stars in it. Let’s count the stars. Ready?” I use my dry erase marker to count how many stars are on the board. “There’s twenty. So five times four equals twenty.”

  I look up at Kimberly who has a grimace on her face.

  “I’m doing a terrible job at this, aren’t I?”

  She turns off the camera we’re using to tape our lessons while trying really hard to give me an encouraging look, but finally gives up. “Well, it’s not good.”

  I toss the dry erase marker down on the table of the small library work room and drop myself into the chair. “Why do I have to present a third-grade lesson?”

  “Do you want the real answer or a sarcastic answer?”

  “Let’s start with sarcastic.”

  “Because Professor Johnston randomly chose third grade for your project.”

  I make a “hrmph” and cross my arms. “And the real answer?”

  “Because in order to be certified to teach middle school, you have to know both the kindergarten through seventh grade and eighth through high school curriculum,” she states matter-of-factly.

  “Why, why does the State not recognize a sixth through eighth grade program yet?” I complain and lean my head back, running my fingers through my hair. “It would make my life so much easier.”

  “But look how much knowledge you’ll have!” she chirps with sarcastic glee. “Someday, if you change your mind, you can teach kindergarten.”

  “Yeah, no. I have a hard enough time with my own kids’ boogers. I’m not even going to put myself in a position where I have to deal with someone else’s kids’ boogers.”

  She giggles. “How old are your kids?”

  “Five, three, and almost two.”

  Her eyes light up. “You have one getting ready to go to kindergarten.”

  “Don’t remind me. I can’t believe how fast she’s grown up. I think I might cry on the first day of school.”

  “Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll be in my class. Wouldn’t that be cool?” she marvels with a smile. “I can text you pictures of her any time there’s a fun event.”

  She looks at me and bites her lip. My eyebrows furrow just slightly. Is she using my kid to flirt with me? Suddenly, I feel very uncomfortable with the conversation.

  “Nah,” I say. “My ex-wife is great and a fantastic photographer. I’m sure she’ll send me tons of pics.”

  “Ex-wife, huh?” She cocks her head at me. This is getting really uncomfortable. “I didn’t realize you were single and available.”

  “Uh, I’m not, actually. I’m dating someone.” Up to this point, Kimberly has been nice in class and fun to work with. I’m not sure why she’s being aggressive all the sudden, but the red flags are going up everywhere. This temptation came out of nowhere and I want to make sure I don’t fall into its trap.

  “Oh,” she muses quietly. Somehow, I know my statement isn’t going to deter her. She’s young and beautiful. She’s obviously willing. And I’ve always had a fantasy of banging a hot co-ed on a table in the library. It would be so easy to get away with. I could just bend her over the table, grab that ponytail, and peel those jeans down.

  NO, I think strongly to myself. I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t want to be that guy.

  I think back to my therapy sessions and know that even a harmless fantasy can easily spiral out of control for me. Instead I employ one of the techniques Justin has been working on with me. Distraction.

  “Anyway, why don’t we switch places. Maybe if I see how you do your lesson plan it will help me not sound so disorganized.”

  “Ok,” she says with a flirty shrug and moves around the table. The entire left side of her body brushes up against mine as she makes her way to th
e board. Knowing she did it on purpose after I just told her I’m dating someone rubs me the wrong way.

  Visions of all the groupies that didn’t care about my marital status as long as I was giving them a good fuck run through my mind. My body misses that. It’s been so, so long since I’ve had sex.

  And then the look on Mari’s face at the conference when she put together how long I had been unfaithful flashes through my mind, dousing all my hormones like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over me. I would rather be celibate the rest of my life than see that look on her face again.

  Once the camera is situated and rolling, I give her the signal to begin.

  “Good morning. I’m Kimberly Reeves. I’ve been assigned to teach fifth grade long division. I’ve read a lot about how music can help kids remember and process math better, so I’ve done a bit of research on different techniques successful teachers have used and found a few favorites I’d like to employ.”

  Turning to the board, she begins her explanation of long division… first you divide, then you multiply, then subtract. But that’s where she adds something new. She begins singing a beat.

  “Bring it on down, just bring it on down.” She draws an arrow from the remaining numbers.

  I lean forward to see where she’s going with this.

  “It’s that simple.” She begins the sing-song beat again, and picks up the pace as she does the math. “Divide… multiply… then subtract. Bring it on down, just bring it on down. Divide… multiply… then subtract. Bring it on down, nothing to bring on down.

  “See how easy that is? Santos, come up here. Let’s see you do it.”

  Her request surprises me. I hadn’t thought to use her as a mock student to practice actually teaching on. It’s a really good idea, so I comply.

  Thankfully, she keeps it professional and maintains a respectable distance between us.

  As I work on the math problem, she starts in with the sing-song again while I do it, really highlighting when each part is to be done. By the time I’ve completed three problems, we’re both singing the same division song and I’m convinced she’s a teaching genius.

  “That was a really great lesson,” I say, as I turn off the camera and begin the process of downloading it for her to edit and turn in.

  “It really wasn’t my idea. I happened to see it online and thought it was brilliant. Kids love music. Kids love singing. If I can use it sometimes to help them grasp the harder concepts, it can really be for their benefit.”

  “Well I think you’ll make a great fifth grade teacher.”

  “Too bad I want to teach kindergarten through second. Who knows. Maybe someday I’ll be tired of dealing with other people’s kids’ boogers, too.” She throws a flirty smile my direction and suddenly the relaxed environment shifts again. “So, do you want another shot at it?” she asks me.

  “After that? I think I need to rearrange what I was going to do. Maybe find some fun techniques to employ.” I pull my phone out of my pocket when it alerts me of a text. “When is this due? Tuesday?”

  “Yep.” She starts packing up all our stuff, since the room is a disaster from studying for so long. “Maybe we can get together tomorrow to finish up. I’m more than happy to help.”

  “Uh… maybe,” I say with a shrug and open my phone.

  Mari: Marcus has insisted on babysitting tonight. Said if I plan on dating that means I have to go on an actual date.

  I smile and my pulse picks up.

  Me: Sounds like you’re asking me on a date. Am I right?

  Mari: I think I am. Santos, would you like to go on a date with me tonight?

  Me: I’ll pick you up at seven.

  Mari: See you then.

  Putting my phone in my pocket, I look up just in time to see Kimberly lean back and pull the hair tie out of her hair. The position causes her breasts to stick out and stretch against her shirt, showing me every outline. As she uses her hands to shake out her hair, her breasts bounce ever so slightly.

  I need to get out of here.

  As I continue gathering my papers, she looks at me, a sultry expression on her face. I wish I didn’t recognize that invitation, but I’ve seen it way too many times.

  “So, um, how committed are you to this person you’re dating? Are you like exclusive or something?”

  “Very.”

  “Oh.” She looks around like she’s not sure what to say, but I’m not buying it. I’m willing to bet this was her plan the first time she sat down beside me in class and she’s been biding her time until the right moment. “I mean, she doesn’t have to know.”

  “What?” I don’t know if I’m more shocked by her audacity or that I saw it coming before it happened. Is this how I got caught up in all this shit before? Was I just not keeping my eyes open to the situations I was in and I fell into a bunch of traps?

  No, that can’t be right. Tiffany and Sasha weren’t like that. They were willing and able, but they were never the pursuer. That was all me, and I won’t try to make myself feel better by placing blame on them. But I think back to my college days, when Mari and I first got together. I think of the girls who were pissed I was in a relationship and how similar the situations were to the one I’m in now.

  I was such a fucking fool. I never paid attention. I never paid attention to the games that were being played, and I ended up being juked in the process.

  Kimberly saunters over to me and runs a finger down my chest. “I’m not asking for a relationship, Santos. Just to scratch an itch. This program is intense and stressful. It’s perfectly normal for two people who enjoy each other’s company to use each other as stress relief.”

  I grab her wrist and stop her before she says anything else. “Not when one of them is in a committed relationship with someone else. That’s not normal. That’s called cheating. And I won’t do it.”

  Her eyes widen slightly and she backs away from me. “Ok,” she says. “I’m sorry I must have misread the signals.”

  I don’t respond because she didn’t misread anything. I never made any advances toward her and we both know it. Grabbing my backpack, I head to the door calling a simple “See you later” over my shoulder as I walk out.

  I have a couple of hours before I pick up Mari so I need to book it, but I have a stop to make first.

  I race to the door when I hear the knock. Santos and I have spent a lot of time together lately, but this is the first time we’re going to leave the kids behind when we do it. I’m both excited and really, really nervous. This is the beginning of the rest of our lives, and I’m feeling good about it.

  I open the door and he turns around slowly. Wearing khaki shorts and a red shirt with leather flip flops, he looks just like I remember… breathtaking. My heart beats a little faster and the nerves fade away, leaving me feeling giddy about this new chapter.

  “Mari,” he breathes. “You look amazing.”

  I look down at my knee length dress. It’s black with red dots and hugs me in the right places. It’s a jersey dress, but the strappy black heeled sandals dress it up just enough. I feel pretty.

  “Thank you. I’m getting better at doing my hair and make-up.”

  “It’s different?” He looks at me quizzically.

  My heart sinks. “Oh. Yeah. I’m trying to learn how to do my make-up. I thought that’s what you were talking about.”

  “No, I mean, it looks great. But I always thought you were beautiful before,” he explains. “It’s the way you carry yourself. You just kind of… glow. I like it.”

  His words make me smile. I didn’t realize the way I was feeling on the inside was reflecting so much on the outside. It makes me feel good.

  “You need to go, right now,” Marcus orders, as he rounds the corner.

  “What? What’s the rush? I was going to say hi to the kids.” Santos starts to step into the apartment but Marcus puts a hand on his chest to stop him.

  “They are entertained and engaged right now and will lose all their focus if they
see you. You know as well as I do those kids can’t stay focused for anything so don’t ruin all my hard work. Plus, you aren’t staying anyway and the minute they realize that, there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

  “Did he just quote the Bible?” Santos asks me. All I can do is snigger, but Marcus continues like he didn’t even hear Santos speak.

  “You both know full well you’ll be here tomorrow anyway, so just take your happy little asses out to dinner right this minute. It’s not actually dating if you don’t ever go on any dates.” He gently pushes Santos back out the door before turning to me, handing me my purse and kissing me on the cheek.

  “I won’t wait up for you,” he reiterates, pushing me right out with Santos and shutting the door in our faces.

  Santos looks a bit stunned by the whole thing. “Are you sure you want to leave that guy with the kids? He seems a little hyper.”

  “Good. That means he’ll be able to keep up with them after he hops them up on sugar.” I grab him by the arm and walk toward the car.

  “He does that?”

  “His theory is once they have the sugar crash, they’re down for the night.”

  “But then he spends the next hour cleaning up after them.”

  “That’s what I said.” Santos opens the passenger side door of his car for me to climb in. “But if it means he babysits and the house is clean when I get home, I’m not going to try and prove him wrong.”

  We situate ourselves in the car and head toward the highway.

  “Do you have anywhere particular you want to go?” he asks, as we head south.

  “I really like this new place called Akashi. It’s all these specialty sushi rolls.”

  “Sushi?” he questions. “Since when do you like sushi?”

  “I don’t know. I think I’ve liked it for forever, just never really had a chance to find out for sure. Besides, these are specialty rolls, filled with things like cream cheese and crab meat and avocado. They aren’t nearly as healthy as actual sushi.”

  “So you’ve eaten there before?”

  “Actually, the last time I went on a date, we went there.”