They started out the door, but Jamie stopped before they disappeared down the hall. “Bye, Mommy. I’m gonna show these boys how to get the job done.”
Brody barely managed to swallow back a laugh, but he couldn’t hide his smirk from Haven.
She shook her head. “That sassy, independent streak of hers comes entirely from you.”
“You wound me, doll, even if it is true.” Brody tugged on his ball cap, draped a whistle around his neck, and gathered a clipboard with papers. Before Haven could protest, he handed her the clipboard and started pushing the chair she occupied toward the door.
“Brody!” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You will not roll me down the hall and out to the field in this chair. Brody!”
He chuckled and wheeled the chair out of his office and down the hall toward the back door. “Just sit tight and enjoy the ride.”
Indignant, Haven huffed, unwilling to admit how much she’d dreaded the long walk out to the football field. She wanted to watch the boys practice today because from the ache in her back and the twinges she’d felt all afternoon it might be the last opportunity she had for a while.
Recalling how excited, nervous, and completely wonderful Brody had been when Jamie was born, Haven laughed.
At the sound of her laughter, Brody stopped the chair and stepped around it so he could see her face. “What’s funny?”
“You.”
Brody hunkered down in front of her and placed his hands on her rounded belly, rubbing it gently. “What did I do now to make you laugh?”
“I was remembering the day Jamie arrived. You were unusually comical that day.”
Brody narrowed his gaze. “I don’t remember anything that funny.”
Haven laughed again. “You had on two different shoes, you forgot how to get to the hospital, and then when we did arrive, you almost strangled yourself with the seatbelt in your haste to get me inside.”
“I still don’t see what’s so funny,” he grumbled before placing a kiss on her tummy. He rubbed his hand over it again as he spoke to their soon-to-arrive baby. “Do you hear your mama laughing at me? What do you think of that?”
The baby moved and Brody grinned. “See, he agrees that you’re picking on me.”
Haven rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to stop referring to the baby as ‘he.’ It could very well be another she. After all, you were convinced Jamie would be a boy. Remember, you spent the months leading up to her birth referring to her as your ‘little quarterback.’ It’s no wonder she’s such a tomboy.”
Brody took Haven’s hands in his and squeezed them, losing himself in her eyes. “We’ll find out soon enough if this one is a boy or a girl. Besides, you know I don’t care as long as the baby is healthy. Although, if we have another girl, I hope she loves football as much as Jamie.”
“How could a child of yours not love football?” Haven leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Her teasing smile slowly melted and she sighed.
“What is it, doll? Are you feeling okay?” Brody’s anxiety carried through his voice.
Haven placed a hand to his cheek. “I’m well, Brody. I was just thinking about your football career. Are you ever sorry you chose me…” Haven waved her hand around them. “Chose this, instead of playing in the NFL?”
“Not for a single moment, Haven. If I had to do it all over again, the only thing I’d change is the months I spent away from you getting my head on straight.” Brody kissed Haven, long and deep. “Falling for you at the twenty-yard line was the best thing that ever happened to me. It was the day our happy ending began.”
Banana Cake
If you love bananas, this rich, flavorful cake is one you’ll really enjoy. Captain Cavedweller likes it best when I add walnuts, but it’s good without nuts, too!
Banana Cake
1 1/2 cups very ripe bananas, mashed
2 tsp. lemon juice
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
3/4 cup butter, softened
2 cups sugar
3 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. banana flavoring
1 1/2 cups milk
1 cup walnuts, chopped (optional)
Preheat oven to 275 degrees. Grease and flour a 9 x 13 baking pan.
Mash bananas with lemon juice and set aside.
Mix flour, baking soda, and salt together and set aside.
In an extra-large mixing bowl (really, you need a big one), cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time then blend in vanilla and banana flavoring.
Stir in flour mixture, a little at a time, alternating with the milk.
Stir in bananas (and walnuts, if you are adding them) then pour into pan and bake for one hour or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Remove from oven and place directly into the freezer for about an hour (heightens the moisture of the cake). Remove from freezer and frost with cream cheese frosting.
Serve or refrigerate.
Thank you for reading Love at the 20-Yard Line. Now that you’ve finished Brody and Haven’s story, won’t you please consider writing a review?
I would truly appreciate it.
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If you enjoyed Love at the 20-Yard Line, give The Coffee Girl a try…
The Coffee Girl — Former barista Brenna Smith dreams of opening a bistro where she can bake her specialty pastries and serve delicious coffee. While she envisions a rich life full of savory moments, she endures a tasteless existence, working for a boss who doesn’t know beans about his job. The hunky construction guy she sees at the coffee shop is the one of the few reasons she drags herself out of bed each morning.
Smart, charming, and good-looking, Brock McCrae is a man comfortable in his own skin. When he takes over ownership of a successful construction company, he decides to move to the small town where his business is located and immerse himself in the community. Brock doesn’t count on his new client being the cute and quirky woman he knows only as Coffee Girl from his daily stop for java.
Turn the page for a fun excerpt…
Chapter One
Rain pelted against the glass of the coffee shop windows in a persistent rhythm, keeping time to the impatient tapping of Brenna Smith’s foot as she waited in line.
Aware of the frantic pace at the shop each morning, she should have skipped the coffee or left the house five minutes sooner. In fact, if the line didn’t start moving a lot faster than its current snail-like pace, she was going to be late for work at her office in Portland. And that wasn’t an option.
Skies the color of cold gunmetal coupled with the frigid drizzle of rain didn’t help her dreary state of mind. The typical wet, winter day in western Oregon shouldn’t have surprised her.
Hesitant to dwell on what the day would bring, she rolled back her shoulders, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
The delicious scent of cedar wood, warm musk, and, not surprisingly, rich, dark coffee filled her nose. Inspired to breathe in another whiff, she opened her eyes, fastening her gaze on the back of the man in front of her.
It was him.
Brenna first noticed the man in the coffee shop weeks ago. His unique, outdoorsy scent preceded him every time she happened to stand close to him in line. How had she not noticed he stood right in front of her today?
The way he looked in his canvas coat, jeans, work boots, and ball cap brought the barest hint of a smile to Brenna’s face.
The guy wasn’t movie star handsome, but he was ruggedly good-looking. From the way his coat stretched across his broad shoulders, she assumed he would be fit. Brenna liked his easy smile
and the laugh lines framing his bright hazel eyes. From what she could tell, he was somewhere around her age.
While he placed his order, Brenna tried not to stare too intently at his back or listen too attentively to the deep cadence of his voice.
When he turned away from the cash register, he handed her a cup of coffee with a wink and a cocky smile before walking out the door.
“Thank you!” Brenna called to his retreating form. He waved a hand in response as he strode out of the coffee shop.
Brenna’s thoughts tumbled around the man while she took a sip of her coffee. Shocked, she wondered how he knew she always ordered a Chai latte.
She rushed out the door and stepped off the sidewalk as a car speeding through the parking lot hit a puddle in front of her, drenching the front of her coat with murky water.
Murderous fury flashed in her eyes as she stared at the taillights of the car. Incensed, she dashed across the puddle-ridden asphalt, grumbling under her breath all the way to her car.
The momentary euphoria she experienced at having the cute guy purchase her coffee quickly dissipated.
“Just perfect,” Brenna muttered as she merged onto the freeway, heading north into Portland.
Her foot pressed the accelerator and she kept her speeding just shy of the point that would get her a ticket. Frustrated, she held the steering wheel in a death grip, releasing the sigh that had been building since she got out of bed that morning.
She hated this rush to work every day. If she cared to admit it, she hated her job and pretty much everything about her current existence.
In a few weeks, she would turn thirty and this was not how she pictured her life as she hit that dreaded milestone.
Exiting the freeway, she sped downtown and pulled into the employee parking lot at Harchett Industries where she worked as a research analyst. Brenna found a space to park in the sea of other vehicles belonging to coworkers. She hurried inside and tapped the toe of her high-heeled shoe at the elevator, anxious to get to her office.
The hard, long hours she worked finally moved her into a management position, but her job no longer held any joy for her. It had become one more thing she got up and did everyday without a speck of enthusiasm.
The sound of her heels echoed on the floor as she raced down the hall, past the receptionist and into her office. She threw her rain-splattered trench coat on the rack just inside her door, grabbed notes and a folder from her desk, and rushed to the early morning staff meeting. With two minutes to spare, she slid into her chair. In an attempt to center herself before whatever storm at work began brewing, she inhaled a calming breath and closed her eyes.
Her hotshot boss swaggered in five minutes late sporting sunglasses and a hangover. If his uncle wasn’t one of the bigwigs in the executive suites upstairs, Brenna was certain he would have been fired long ago instead of promoted to his current position that allowed him to run rough-shod over a team of good people.
The last year had been a game of cat and mouse for her, trying to stay off his radar. Any time he focused on her, she found herself popping antacids like they were candy. He was rude, obnoxious, and arrogant, and that was on a good day.
The wrinkled appearance of his suit, looking suspiciously like the same one he wore the previous day, didn’t bode well for a pleasant day ahead.
Despite her longing to become invisible by sinking lower in her seat, Brenna lacked the magical powers to make herself disappear.
“Well, kids, what’s shaking?” Wesley Mettler asked as he took his seat at the head of the table and looked around the room. Not giving anyone time to answer, he turned his attention to a new intern sitting close to the coffee and pointed his direction. “You. Coffee. Now.”
Uncertain and a little frightened, the young man’s face held a look of panic until someone discretely pointed to the coffee pot on the table. The intern quickly poured a cup and carried it down the long table to Wesley.
Instead of saying thank you, Wesley glared at the young man over his sunglasses then sat back in his chair taking a long drink.
“Which one of you is going to make me look brilliant today?” Wesley asked, glancing around the room.
Brenna kept her eyes glued to the legal pad in front of her, hoping Wesley wouldn’t look her direction. Her hope was short lived when she felt his gaze boring into the top of her head and fought the urge to squirm in her seat.
“Ms. Smith, what can you share with the group this morning?” The snide tone of her boss grated on her nerves.
Most everyone in the office speculated the reason for his obvious dislike of Brenna. Perhaps it was her conservative nature. Some chalked it up to her intelligence and competence that constantly left him feeling threatened. A handful supported the notion it was because she turned him down with a scathing rebuff the one time he propositioned her.
Brenna took another deep breath as she gathered her thoughts. “We finished researching the site retargeting project. It’s definitely something we don’t want to waste time considering. We need to move on it while we can maintain an edge. I’ll have a report with a proposed action plan ready by the end of the week.”
“No, you won’t.” Wesley swiveled his chair back and forth, sunglasses covering bloodshot eyes as he rested his elbows on the chair arm and steepled his soft fingers together. “I want it before you leave today.”
“But, Wesley, that’s not possible. It will take several days to compile the information, create the graphics, write the…”
Wesley sat forward, lowered his glasses, and pinned her with a cold stare.
“Today, Ms. Smith. It will be on my desk before you leave today. I don’t care how long it takes you. Just get it done. You’ve got until midnight.” Wesley offered her a final sneer then moved onto his next victim. The meeting adjourned a few minutes later.
One of the first to leave the meeting room, Brenna hastened back to her office, ignoring the sympathetic looks of her coworkers.
Quietly shutting her door, she would rather have slammed it. Livid, her heart pounded and a headache throbbed at her temples. Experience taught her there wasn’t a thing any of them could do about Wesley. The last person who complained about him ended up unemployed and escorted out to her car by security.
Resigned to accepting the inevitable, Brenna lost herself in preparing the report as the hours flew by. She doled out parts of the project to her team members and together they worked to complete the report before Wesley’s ridiculous deadline.
A knock on her door drew her attention at half past noon.
“Come in,” Brenna called, looking up from her computer long enough to acknowledge her good friend Kathleen with a welcoming smile.
“Did you come bearing gifts?” Brenna continued typing as Kathleen strode across the office carrying a bag from the deli down the block.
“I brought you some lunch.” Kathleen set the bag down before perching on the corner of Brenna’s desk.
“Better not let Weasel Wesley catch you doing that.” Brenna lifted a chef’s salad out of the bag.
“I’m not worried about him in the least.” Kathleen crossed her legs and defiantly swung one foot.
Kathleen didn’t need to be worried because her grandfather was one of the firm partners in the executive suites upstairs. He wouldn’t allow Wesley to mess with Kathleen’s career, although he did expect her to work her way up through the company and pull her own weight.
With her looks, attitude, and intellect, Brenna didn’t think it would take Kathleen long to have her own office near her grandfather’s. Tall and lithe with flowing black hair and snapping green eyes, she carried herself like royalty. She was also sharp, fearless, and Brenna’s best friend.
They met the summer they both served as interns with the company. The internships led to part-time jobs while they finished their college degrees. They started climbing the corporate ladder together. It had been a challenging climb, especially in a company mired in the opinion that women should be secretarie
s and errand-girls, while men did the rest.
Management positions were a hard-earned accomplishment.
“Maybe you aren’t, but I am. You know what happens when he gets tired of employees. Before you can blink, you’re packing up your personal belongings and out the door.” Brenna pointed her plastic fork at Kathleen as she ate her salad.
“The company knows how valuable you are, even if Wesley doesn’t. They aren’t going to let him chase you off like he has the rest.” Kathleen stole an olive out of the salad and popped it in her mouth.
Brenna grinned at her friend’s antics. “Thanks for bringing me lunch. I needed a little break.”
“No problem.” Kathleen stared at Brenna’s computer screen where multiple windows were open as she worked on piecing together her report. “I heard what Wesley did this morning. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. My team is working on the charts and graphics while I write the technical details and formulate the battle plan. I’ll probably burn a little midnight oil to get this on the weasel’s desk as ordered, but I’ll manage.”
“You always do.” Kathleen slid off the desk and adjusting her slim skirt. “Just don’t stay too late and for goodness sakes, make sure you put your name in that report. He always takes credit for your efforts even though everyone knows who really does the work. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will, Kat. Thanks.” Brenna smiled at her friend as she walked out the door, shutting it behind her.
Hours later, Brenna stood to stretch the kinks out of her neck and back, noticing the sky was no longer gray but black with darkness. She waved away her team at five, telling them to go home and enjoy the evening.
Quickly picking up the phone, Brenna called her mom and let her know she was going to be late.
“How late, honey?” asked Lettice Smith, better known as Letty. “We can wait dinner for you if you’ll just be a little while.”
Love at the 20-Yard Line Page 27
