2. Jake
2
JAKE
The same stone pathway, the same huge wraparound porch that is perfect for family cookouts. The familiar feeling of being welcomed greets me before I reach the house. I’m more than a little in awe of everything Coach has built. He has a stellar career and a lovely family. I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that he’s had his share of heartache. Losing a child has got to be the toughest loss of all.
I was here a few years ago, to show my support for my revered coach in his hour of need. The only difference this time is I’m older and I carry the weight of my years as a pro football player that has taken a toll on me. I’ve been in the big leagues for years and played the biggest games. I’ve lived through injuries I wasn’t sure I’d bounce back from. But this one scares me. A torn meniscus.
Fuck me.
I kill the engine of my truck and step out, tucking a small gift bag under my arm. Coach deserves more than I could fit in a bag, but we both know it’s not about what’s inside—it’s about showing up. Coach is a family man and I wonder if his daughter, Samantha, will be here. I’ve not seen her in years, but I heard she’s raising Ellen’s daughter.
As soon as I step onto the porch, the front door opens like Coach’s sixth sense kicked in. He has a gift of reading people and perhaps that’s his secret to coaching our team. We had a great year and I hope we’re contenders for the Super Bowl next year.
The fact that we did so well makes it even more frustrating that I went out on the injured reserve in the game before the playoffs. I’m hoping we’ll redeem ourselves next year and that I’ll make a speedy recovery.
I don’t enjoy sitting at home. There are too many hours in the day when I can’t be with my team. My life revolves around my job as a defenseman. Not that I’m opposed to companionship but I haven’t found the right woman, yet.
“Jake Rivers!” Coach’s voice booms as he slaps a hand on my back. His grip is still strong, and he grins like I’ve scored the game-winning touchdown. “Thanks for coming!”
I know he’s relieved I came. He’s not a pretentious man. I’ve been out of sorts ever since I was injured and it’s like him to have his eye on all his players, on and off the field. Thankfully, my injury happened at the end of the season and I should be back before the new season starts.
Am I bored and lonely? Fuck yeah. I hope being here for the coach’s happy occasion will improve my mood more than anything. I’ve been living in a vacuum and it’s not healthy.
I need a change of scenery. I need to surround myself with people who care about me. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop and I’ve been using alcohol to numb myself to the extent that I have to evaluate my current state of mind. I don’t want drinking to turn into a bad habit. I’ve seen many players give in to addictions and I know first-hand how it can end careers. It also breaks up marriages.
I’m spinning my heels and can’t shake the fact that I’m not productive. I’m antsy and my anxiety over my future consumes me. All this sitting around has made me contemplate my future and the fact is my personal life has suffered due to my career.
Being on the road is tough on a relationship. I’ve always said today isn’t the right time for a wife, but if not now—then when? I’m not getting any younger. And if my current state of mind is what I’ll be when I retire, I’m in for a rough road.
I want a wife and kids. I’ve just never made time for it. I’ve prioritized my career over personal attachments, and I know that has to change. I am capable of adapting and I’d happily do so—if I found the right woman.
“I wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world,” I reply, matching his grin. I hand him the bottle of bourbon I have tucked under my arm.
“It’s always good to see you.” Coach takes the bottle. “Thank you,” he says as he claps me on the back and guides me inside his colossal house.
The smell of food hits me like a warm embrace. I’ve always had the opinion that food brings family and friends together, and as I glance around at the guests, I know I’m right.
“Everyone’s here—make yourself at home!” He suggests as he leads me through the entryway.
And then I see her—Sam McAllister—standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed as her eyes zero in on me.
“Sam,” I say, approaching her. “It’s been a long time.” I’m unable to keep the teasing note out of my voice. The last time I saw her was at the funeral of her sister so I skipped the specifics. She was a vision then and she hasn’t aged a day in two years. I wonder if she remembers me.
She gives me a look that is so warm it could melt a popsicle in the Arctic. “Jake. I’m surprised to see you here. ”
“Didn’t think I’d show?” I ask, amused as I lean casually against the doorframe.
“I figured you’d be too busy with your adoring fans.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “I needed a break. And besides, I couldn’t pass up your mom’s cooking,” I chuckle and give her a wink for good measure. Her cheeks turn a little pink before she rolls her eyes. We both know her mother hires catering services for these events. “You look great. How have you been?”
“Good, you?” We walk to the backyard together.
Coach’s is chatting with people and kids running in circles. I glance around and my teammates and former players laughing like no time has passed since we last gathered. I spot Ellie, and she’s grown so much. She’s a whirlwind of curls and energy, chasing a ball across the grass. I can’t help but smile. I can see the family resemblance in her face.
I notice Ellie stops suddenly to watch a group of older kids toss around a football. She tries to pick up the ball and fumbles. Then, her face scrunches up in frustration.
“Need a hand?” I call out, making my way over.
Her eyes widen. “Are you a football guy?”
“Yes,” I say, crouching down to her level. “I’m Jake.”
She tilts her head. “Aunt Sam says football guys are trouble.”
I chuckle. “She said that, huh? Well, how about I teach you something, and you can decide for yourself?”
Her smile grows as I show her how to hold the ball—fingers on the laces, stance balanced. “Like this?” she asks, wobbling a little.
“Perfect,” I say, standing and stepping back. “Now let’s see that throw.”
Ellie launches the ball. It goes about two feet, and she cheers like she’s won the Super Bowl.
“Touchdown!” I shout, throwing my arms up in mock celebration.
Her laughter rings out, and I feel someone watching me. Turning, I find Sam leaning on the porch railing, her arms still crossed. She’s watching us, though—her face is unreadable.
“Jake says I can be whatever I want!” Ellie calls out, running past Sam.
Sam shakes her head as I wander up.
“You don’t give an inch, do you?” I ask, keeping my tone easy.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps, looking up at me.
“You look like you could use a break,” I say. “I don’t think you’re having fun.” Sam has always impressed me as a woman who plays her cards close to her vest. She’s stern and committed to her career from what I hear. The fact that she’s the coach’s daughter makes her off-limits.
“A break?” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it, she asks defensively. “Do you know how much I juggle?” she huffs.
Growing up with divorced parents, it’s the wrong question to ask me.
“I do,” I say, letting my voice soften just a little. “My parents divorced when I was in high school. But just because you can do it all doesn’t mean you should. I bet you’ve not had a night out in a long time. Maybe I can change that.”
Her gaze flickers, but her guard remains airtight.
“I doubt it. I don’t date players.” Her accent on players is disturbing.
“I get it.” I continue. “It’s not fair for you to lump all of us together. I know you’ve got Ellie to think about. But don’t forget that you’re allowed to be happy, too.”
Sam has a serious nature. Her sister was outgoing and Sam seemed to live in her shadow. Maybe she felt she couldn’t compete with her sister and took a backseat. But, from where I’m standing, I don’t understand why she’s still single.
She has a gorgeous face, long wavy hair, and curves in all the right places. She’s younger than me, but today age doesn’t matter. I wonder if she’d go out with me. I’ve been known to be a bit reckless, what’s one more reckless play?
Her silence stretches for a moment, and I can see the conflict flicker in her eyes. Is she trying to find the right words? Or just deciding whether I’m worth the effort? I shift my weight, tempted to say something, anything, to bridge the growing distance. But before I can reply, someone calls me back toward the game, interrupting our discussion.
I give her a small nod and leave her standing there, but I catch her as her eyes follow me. Her face reads of mixed emotions—like she doesn’t know what to make of me.
I nod at her but feel the weight of her gaze follow me long after I trotted off.
The afternoon is filled with the warmth of family and friends as laughter echoes across the backyard. I listen to stories of past victories and embarrassing moments that are retold with animated gestures. The scent of smoky barbecue lingers in the air, mingling with the sweetness of fresh lemonade.
The hum of cicadas in the late afternoon adds a familiar soundtrack to the easy conversations. Every handshake and every backslap carries a sense of belonging, a reminder of the bonds forged through years of hard work and shared triumphs.
The food table is a kaleidoscope of color. From hand-held edibles, chips and dips, and sweets. Everyone is raving about the ribs and potato salad. There is enough food to feed the Roman army.
The sun’s long gone, and the house is finally quiet when I park myself in a fold-up chair around the fire pit. The party was a success—Coach deserved nothing less— but I can’t stop thinking about Sam. I searched the horizon for her and when I didn’t see her, I hoped she didn’t leave without saying goodbye.
She hasn’t changed much. Maybe she’s a little sharper around the edges, but there’s still that fire in her eyes. I saw it when she looked at Ellie playing football, the same fire I saw years ago when she talked about her big dreams of owning a restaurant.
I glance across the fire pit and spot one of my friends, the quarterback of the team, Travis who is nursing a beer. “Hey, you still keep up with the guys?” I ask, leaning back in my chair.
He nods. “Yeah, some of them. Why?”
I hesitate for a moment, then decide to go for it. “What do you know about Sam these days?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Sam McAllister?”
“Yeah. She seems different. More guarded.”
He chuckles. “I wouldn't blame her. She's been through a lot. Running the inn, raising Ellie. She probably doesn’t have much time for herself.”
I nod slowly, watching the flames dance. “Is she seeing anyone?”
He smirks. “Are you interested?”
I shake my head, but it’s not convincing. “Just curious.”
“As far as I know, no one's made it past a second date since she took Ellie to raise. She’s picky. But I guess when you’re raising a kid, you have to be. Are you sure you want to piss Coach off?”
What would Coach think? Surely Sam is an adult who makes her own decisions. However, his words settle in as the fire crackles. Sam McAllister. She’s always just out of reach. But maybe, just maybe, it might be different if the man in her life is me.
Years ago, I would’ve done anything to impress Sam. But I got the impression she was always too smart for guys like me—guys who left town chasing big contracts and bigger cities. And if that’s not enough, there is a stream of available women at our beck and call.
And today? Hell, I’m not sure. She’s got walls ten feet high, but there’s something about her that I can’t ignore. Maybe it’s the way she watches Ellie with so much love. Maybe it’s the quiet loneliness I see in her when she thinks no one’s looking. I know that look because it’s mirrored in my eyes as well.
I stand and stretch. I should’ve left fifteen minutes ago. It’s been a long day, and I need some sleep.
I can’t shake my thoughts of Sam. I can’t help but wonder what it would take to make her smile again.
The party’s winding down, and most of the guests have already trickled out. I’m standing by the front door, keys in hand, but something’s keeping me here.
Or maybe someone.
I hear soft footsteps behind me and turn, half-expecting Coach or Mrs. McAllister. But it’s not them—it’s Sam. I’m surprised, and I’m nervous like a teenager on his first date. The only thing that makes me nervous is my career being in limbo.
She stops short when she sees me, her arms crossed like she’s bracing herself for whatever I’m about to say. She’s barefoot now, and her hair slightly mussed—out of the guarded, polished mode she’s been in all night.
“You’re still here,” she says, her voice softer than before.
“I was just about to head out,” I reply, leaning against the doorframe. “Didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
She narrows her eyes. “Goodbye, or some parting words to irk me?”
I chuckle, low and easy. “You make me sound so predictable.”
“You are predictable.” But her smile gives way to the notion that she’s teasing me.
The corners of my mouth lift. God, I love her fire and sass. “Then maybe you should predict this.”
Before I can second-guess myself, I take a step closer, closing the space between us. The air thickens, electric, as I watch her lips part slightly, her breath hitching. The flicker of defiance in her eyes clashes with something softer—something that tells me she wants this just as much as I do. Her eyes widen but she doesn’t back away. I kiss her. It starts slow, teasing, testing, but the moment she sighs and leans into me, I’m a goner.
Her arms reach to my chest and grab the fabric of my shirt. I cup her face gently, deepening the kiss. As my lips linger on hers, I savor the warmth of her mouth, and she leans into me. I love the fact that she’s pressing against me. My hard cock finds a resting place against her as our bodies merge.
But once I’ve tasted her sweet lips, I know one taste of her will never be enough.
My hands skim her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us. A low hum vibrates in her throat, and when I slide my tongue against hers, her fingers clench the material of my shirt, like she’s afraid to let go. She softly moans.
The kiss is short of PG-13. It’s not polite, casual, or anything close to what I expected. It’s heat and softness all at once, like something snapping into place that’s been waiting on the sidelines too long. Her hands move over my chest, wanting more.
For a moment, it’s just us, tangled in a heady mix of heat and longing. My pulse thunders in my ears, and I can feel her body trembling slightly, her desire pooling between her thighs. It takes everything in me not to push her back against the nearest wall and lose myself in her completely with no noise, and no expectations. Just her lips on mine, the way they’ve been since the first time I thought about kissing Sam McAllister years ago.
When we finally break apart she’s looking up at me. I notice her breathing is uneven, and her lips are swollen. I resist the urge to chase her mouth again—to taste her just once more. Her pupils are blown wide, like the aperture in a camera lens. Her fingers are still fisted in my shirt, and for a second, I think she’s never going to let go so I don’t move. I’m afraid to say a word because if I do, it will break this perfect moment.
“You…” She pauses, her voice a little breathless. “You can’t just do that.”
“Seemed like the right thing to do,” I reply, keeping my voice low.
Her gaze darts to the floor, then back up to me. There’s something in her eyes—a mixture of anger, confusion, and something else I can’t quite pin down.
“I—” she starts, but before she can finish when we both hear Coach’s voice in the kitchen as he heads our way.
“You leaving yet, Rivers, or are you setting up camp?” he asks as he busts up our awkward parting.
I grin, stepping back reluctantly. “Guess that’s my cue.”
I hope I kissed her into submission because she doesn’t move or speak. She just stands there, watching me as I open the front door and step out into the night air.
I make it halfway to my truck as my Coach walks me out. I wonder if he saw us. He’s carrying a thermos—probably coffee for the road—and hands it to me as I lean against the hood.
“Nice seeing you tonight, Jake,” he says, his tone warm but laced with that no-nonsense edge I’ve always respected.
“Always good to see you, Coach,” I reply, tipping the thermos in thanks.
He nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “ You think about that knee and a change of scenery to rehab? It’s not something you can ignore forever.”
I shift uncomfortably. “I’m figuring it out.”
“Well, I’ve got a friend—a good doctor down in South Carolina. He’s a specialist in sports medicine and he runs a clinic near the coast.”
“South Carolina?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He smirks, catching the hint of hesitation in my voice. “Yeah. Rock Point. Dr. Noah Reid. He’s a good guy. He also specializes in football injuries, particularly torn meniscus. You should check him out.”
“Thanks, I’ll look him up.”
Is Coach setting me up with his daughter?
“Couldn’t hurt. Maybe a change of scenery will help. You might like living in a small town. Maybe it will clear your head.” He cracks a smile. Is that a dare? He’s aware of the fact that I rarely visit my small hometown.
I climb into the truck. “Happy Birthday, Coach.”
“Thanks, Jake,” he fires back. “Drive safely.”
As I turn the ignition and the engine rumbles to life, I glance back at the house. For just a second, I think I see a shadow in the front window—someone watching. I think of how pretty Sam is.
She’s a woman with a kid. A cute kid, too. I don’t know her very well but I know that her sister would be proud of how she’s raising her daughter. I watched how they interacted throughout the day and it’s clear that they are happy and love each other.
I’ve heard through the grapevine that Sams owns a B&B in South Carolina. Travis told me it’s called the Dragonfly Inn. It’s a cute name and I’m sure I can find it online.
The kiss we shared was earth-shattering. I would have attempted second base if we weren’t standing in her father’s house. My mind begins to ponder the possibility of heading south. I have nothing but time on my hands as I complete my rehab.
Sam and I have never had an in-depth conversation where it led to numbers being exchanged. I make a mental note to look up the doctor Coach recommended. It wouldn’t hurt to see Sam again. It’s been years since I had such a strong attraction to a woman and I’m not one to be scared off by the fact her father is my coach.
I throw the truck in reverse, glance at Coach one last time, and hit the road that will take me back to my plush penthouse. As I drive down the road, one thing is clear to me—I’m smitten with Sam. She’s an enigma wrapped in a riddle and I love a challenge. I get a hard-on just thinking about her in her cute summer dress that showed off her sun-kissed skin, generous cleavage, and long sexy legs that never end.