by HELEN HARDT
I nodded and raked my gaze over his left hand that hung at his side. No wedding band. But he had a daughter on this team, so he must be married. He probably just took off his ring to play soccer. Made perfect sense.
“So this is Maya, huh?” Brett knelt down. “Hi, Maya. I’m Coach Brett.”
“Hello,” Maya said shyly.
“I know your mommy from a long time ago.”
“When she was little like me?”
“Not quite that long ago.” Brett laughed. “Are you excited to play soccer?”
“Oh, yeah!” Maya clapped her hands together.
“I’m hoping she got her father’s athletic talent,” I said. “As you’ll recall, I don’t have any.”
Brett ignored my comment. “You ready to start kicking a ball, Maya?”
“Sure!”
“Okay, then.” He took her hand. “Mommy’ll stay here, and I’ll take you to meet the rest of the girls on the team.”
I smiled. “Go ahead, Maya. I’ll be right here reading my book while you have your practice.”
I set up my folding chair, sat down, and opened my romance novel. After reading the same paragraph five times, I still had no idea what it said.
I looked up. Brett had set up orange cones and was showing the six little girls how to kick the ball around the cones. His demeanor was kind, paternal. I couldn’t imagine Danny doing something like this. He’d be too authoritative and demanding. Danny was a gifted athlete, or had been, when he was younger, but I doubted he was coaching material. At least not for this age.
Brett had no doubt married his high school sweetheart, Michelle Bates. That had been his plan at the end of high school anyway, whether or not the scholarship came through. Bubbly, blond Michelle was probably the mother of the little dark-haired beauty on the field. Or maybe Brett had divorced Michelle and married again. For him to have a child so young, that was definitely a possibility. Or maybe he and Michelle hadn’t worked out and he’d only married more recently, like I had.
Whatever the case, I couldn’t sit here ogling him for another fifteen minutes. Thank goodness soccer practice for four-year-olds only lasted half an hour.
I pretended to read my book for the remainder of practice. Finally, Brett brought the girls together in a circle and made them join hands in the middle. “Blue thunder on three,” he said. “One, two three.”
“Blue thunder!” a chorus of happy little girl voices cheered.
Maya ran to me.
“Did you have fun, sweetie?”
“Oh, yeah, it was tons of fun. I love to kick the ball!”
“Then you’re in the right sport.” I laughed as I folded up my chair and stuffed it in its bag. I wanted to be well on my way before Brett was done talking to the pretty young woman hanging on his every word. Must be another parent. A very young and attractive parent. Of course she’d be young. Most parents with children Maya’s age were in their twenties, not thirty-eight like I was. And Brett, for that matter.
I slung the chair over my shoulder. “Grab your ball, Maya.”
Maya picked up her size-three soccer ball and smiled up at me. “Ready, Mommy.”
“Let’s go then. I promised you a milkshake, didn’t I?”
“A milkshake sounds great.”
I turned toward the deep timbre. Brett had heard me?
“I think Zoe might like a milkshake. Do you mind if we join you?”
He had to be kidding. “Well…no, of course not.”
“We can go over to The Robin’s Nest and the girls can have a milkshake and play on the tot lot. You and I can catch up.”
My cheeks warmed.
“That would be fun, Mommy,” Maya said. “Zoe’s real nice.”
Nice to be put on the spot. I couldn’t talk to Brett. I just couldn’t. So much history. Too much unresolved between us.
“Please, Mommy?” Maya tugged on my sleeve.
I had a hard time saying no to Maya these days. The little girl missed Danny so much. Divorce was hell on a kid, but I wouldn’t be doing my child any favors by letting her have everything she wanted. I wasn’t going to have one of those spoiled children of divorce.
“I have an early day tomorrow, sweetie. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Mommy, please! You did promise me a milkshake.”
So I had. I sighed. “You’re right. I did. If Coach Brett and Zoe want to join us, that would be wonderful.”
“Oh, good!” Maya jumped away from me and grabbed Zoe’s hand. “My favorite’s vanilla. What’s yours?”
“Strawberry,” the other girl said.
“I remember your favorite, Kath.” Brett’s breath warmed my neck. “Chocolate. Right?”
My skin bristled. No one else had ever called me that. My mom called me Kathy. Everyone else, including Danny, had always called me Kathryn.
Kath.
Brett’s husky timbre trickled over me like thick, dark chocolate. My knees weakened. I remembered. Remembered exactly how he’d licked chocolate off my warm neck…
The warmth of a flush drifted over my flesh. “I stopped eating chocolate when I was pregnant with Maya,” I said, my voice shaky. “I couldn’t stand it during morning sickness.”
Actually, I’d stopped eating chocolate years before, after I left town. I’d stopped eating it for a reason I wasn’t ready to think about right now. Maybe not ever.
“Really?” Brett stepped beside me. “I’m surprised. I remember you as a true chocoholic.”
“Things change,” I said.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s… It’s good to see you again, Brett.”
“I didn’t realize you were back in town.”
“I’ve only been here a few months.”
“You kind of dropped off the face of the earth, you know.”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I had my reasons. You did marry Michelle, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I did.”
“That’s what I figured.” I shifted my gaze to Maya and Zoe skipping ahead.
Twenty years earlier
My throat constricted as I walked into Mrs. Knott’s math classroom. I’d refused to see Brett in my home or his for tutoring, so Mr. Phillips had arranged for our use of a classroom after school. I shook my head. What was the world coming to? To go to such effort just for baseball seemed fruitless to me.
Brett, to my surprise, was already in the classroom. I’d hoped we’d be chaperoned by Mr. Phillips or a teacher, but that wasn’t possible. However, the principal and Mr. Phillips would be in the building until five, so if I needed them, I could contact them via the intercom. Not that I feared for my physical safety around Brett. No, he wasn’t like that. Especially not with me. I just didn’t want to be alone with him for reasons of my own.
“Hey there,” he said.
“Hi.” I whisked through the maze of student desks quickly and took a seat at the teacher’s desk. Why not? I was the teacher, right?
“Can’t you sit beside me?”
“No. You’re here to learn. I’m here to tutor you. That makes me the teacher, you the student.”
He let out a drawling guffaw. “If you say so, teach.”
“Cut the attitude,” I said. “I’m here to help you, and according to Mr. Phillips, you wanted me and no one else.”
“True.”
“So treat me with respect, or I leave.”
The muscles in Brett’s perfectly sculpted face tightened. I’d hit a nerve. Interesting. But why? Why did he insist on me as a tutor when several other just as qualified individuals existed who didn’t share our history?
Of course, maybe he didn’t even remember our history. He’d left me alone for the past four years. He was one of the beautiful people, the popular crowd. He probably didn’t remember how he’d tormented me, made my middle school years hell, been the cause of many tears shed into my pillow.
Not that I ever let him see me cry. No, I was too proud for that. I’d always waited until I g
ot home to my empty house before letting the dam break.
No time for that now. I was bound to tutor Brett Falcone, and the sooner we started, the sooner we could finish.
“What exactly do you need help with?” I asked. “Mr. Phillips said you’re failing math.”
“Dummy math.”
“Intro to Algebra?” I shook my head.
Brett Falcone was an asshole to the nth degree, but I’d never thought he was stupid. Not a genius, to be sure, but failing Intro to Algebra? Something else was at work here.
“I didn’t know seniors could take that class. Isn’t it a Freshman class?”
“Not for us dummies.”
“All right, enough of that talk. It’s counter-productive.”
He laughed. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means if you keep telling yourself you’re a dummy, you’ll become one. So shut up already.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted me.
“Ha-ha. Okay, where are you having the problem?”
“First, let me ask you a question.”
“Sorry. I’m the tutor here. I ask the questions.”
“No, I’m the student. I’m the one with questions.”
He had a point.
I blew a strand of hair out of my face. “What’s your question?”
“Why did you agree to tutor me?”
“That’s not a mathematical question, Brett.”
“No. But I’d like to know.”
I huffed. “Fine. If I answer that, I get to ask you a question.”
“Fair enough. So why?”
“Mr. Phillips made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“What offer?”
I wasn’t about to tell Brett that our counselor was paying me out of his own pocket. I took it because I needed the money. I had a full scholarship for my tuition to Stanford, but I still needed money for housing and food. “None of your business. I answered your question, now you answer mine.”
“You didn’t answer mine.”
“Oh, yes, I did. It was a perfectly acceptable answer to the question as posed. Next time, ask a more specific question.” I couldn’t help a slight smile. “Now, why did you insist on me for a tutor?”
“You’re the smartest person I know.”
“You haven’t said two words to me in four years. How do you know I’m the smartest?”
“You’ve always been the smartest, Kath. Since we were little kids.” His lips curved into a churlish grin. “And there’s another reason.”
“Which is?”
“You’re a fox.”
I caught my chin before it dropped to the floor. A fox? This from Brett Falcone, the boy who’d tormented me for being an ugly nerd? Granted, once the braces had come off and I’d gotten contact lenses, my looks had improved. My mother told me I was beautiful, but she was my mother, for God’s sake. No one else had.
“I’d much rather look at you for an hour than one of those other nerds.”
Heat crept up my neck. Damn! I didn’t want him to see that his words affected me. This was Brett Falcone, the boy who’d made my life miserable, the boy who’d made me cry. What did I care if he found me attractive now? He was probably lying anyway. He wasn’t a nice person.
“Looking at me won’t get you the C you need.”
“But studying with you will.”
“Let’s get one thing straight right now.” I raked my fingers through my feathered hair. “We aren’t studying together. I’m teaching, and you’re learning. There’s nothing magical about sitting here with a student who knows math. You aren’t going to learn through osmosis, Brett. You need to take an active part in this process.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
I stood and gathered my books. “I’m leaving.”
I was halfway to the door when a warm hand gripped my elbow. A spark shot through me.
“Please. Don’t go. I need you. Really.”
I turned. This would be so much easier if he weren’t so damn good-looking. Every teenage girl’s fantasy. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
“I’m sorry. Most girls like it when I tell them they’re pretty.”
“Most girls didn’t get tormented by you in middle school.”
His high cheekbones reddened. Had I actually embarrassed him?
“I was hoping you didn’t remember that.”
“Not remember that?” I shook my head. “You really think I can forget being told I’m ugly on a daily basis? Being made fun of in gym class at every opportunity? Being tripped in the hallway?” I closed my eyes and inhaled. Deeply.
Never let them see you cry.
I opened my eyes and met Brett’s dark gaze straight on.
He bit his bottom lip. “I didn’t think you cared. You never said anything.”
“Oh. So you would have stopped if I’d given a damn? If I’d cried my eyes out for you? Is that what you wanted?”
“No. I mean…” He sighed. “Aw, hell. I don’t know what I mean. I was a punk, okay? A stupid kid. I honestly didn’t think I was hurting you. I honestly didn’t think you cared. I’m sorry.”
An apology from Brett Falcone? What was more, it even sounded sincere. For a moment, elation speared through me, until I realized he needed me. He was just trying to get me to tutor him so he could get his grade up and play freaking baseball. That’s all this was. A forced apology. An act.
I could act as well as the next person. “Fine. You’re right. I didn’t care, and I don’t care now. Frankly, I don’t care if you flunk out of high school and never play baseball again. But I made a deal with Mr. Phillips, and I, unlike you, am a person of honor and integrity. I keep my bargains. So I accept your apology. Now let’s get down to business.”
Brett took a seat and smiled. Though I didn’t want it to, my gaze gravitated to his full red lips, his perfect white teeth, that cute dimple on his left cheek. The heavens had wasted so much charm and good looks on this young man. If only he had a kind heart to go with it all.
“You are a fox, you know,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “If you say so. Now, tell me what you’re working on in class.”
3
“They seem to get along well,” Brett said, as he handed me a vanilla milkshake.
Zoe and Maya had already clambered to the tot lot. Brett carried the girls’ and his own shakes to a table. He waited for me to sit before he sat down across from me. Always the gentleman, Brett Falcone. That had surprised me when I first found out.
“So how is Michelle?” I asked, taking a sip of the thick shake.
“She’s good.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“We’re not together anymore.”
I swallowed quickly to avoid choking on the creamy, smooth shake. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Thanks. But it’s okay. We drifted apart over the years. Our two older girls are nineteen and seventeen. We thought having Zoe would save our marriage.” He shook his head. “It didn’t.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I took another sip of shake.
“Not that I regret having Zoe. She’s been great for both of us, and for Candy and Marie.”
“Those are your older girls?”
“Yeah. They adore her. And Michelle has a new lease on life. We were both so young when we had Candy and Marie. We’re definitely better parents now, even if we aren’t together.”
“You never remarried?”
“The divorce was only final about a year ago. I haven’t really dated. Haven’t really wanted to. It’s weird when you’ve really only dated one person your whole life.”
That comment sliced into my gut. Then again, he was right. Brett and I had never actually dated. “I see.” Another sip. My hands seemed conspicuous. What could I do with them?
“How about you? How long have you been married?”
“I’m not,” I said. “Maya’s father and I separated last year. When the divorce came through, I relocated back
here.”
Was that a smile trying to escape his beautiful lips? I wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
“What do you do, Kath? I always imagined you’d do something absolutely great with your life.”
“I’m a pediatrician.”
“Wow. I bet you’re fantastic at that.”
I let out a chuckle. “I try. It’s very rewarding most of the time. Heartbreaking sometimes, though.”
“I can imagine.”
“How about you? What are you doing?”
“Construction, like my dad did.”
“Did you end up going on that baseball scholarship?”
“Only for a year. I couldn’t stay in school. Michelle got pregnant, and there were other circumstances.”
“I’m sorry.” My heart plummeted to my stomach. All I’d hoped for him had never happened. “I wish you could have finished.”
“Me too. Believe it or not, I actually liked college, Kath. I think I have you to thank for that.”
My skin tingled as warmth crept to my cheeks. “You don’t owe me any thanks. You were always intelligent. You just didn’t know it.”
“You told me I was, and I believed it.”
“If I hadn’t told you, someone else would have.”
“You did. No one else did.”
Again, I had no idea what to say. I took a long loud sip of my shake and turned my head to watch the girls playing. They were laughing as though they’d known each other for ages. But that was the way of it with little girls. They could become best friends in an instant.
“There’s something I’ve always wondered, Kath.”
I turned to face Brett’s dark, burning gaze. “What’s that?”
“Why did you leave?”
I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. “I had a scholarship to Stanford. You know that.”
“Yeah, I knew that. But you didn’t go to Stanford.”
“Of course I went to Stanford.”
“Not right after high school.”
Embarrassment burned up my neck, my face. How did he know? “I took a year off.”
“Why? No one knew where you’d gone. I tried to get in touch with you. Your mother wouldn’t tell anyone where you were.”
“I asked her not to.”
