Scoring with the Coach’s Daughter (Maine Megalodons #3)

3. Samantha

3

SAMANTHA

Desire puddles between my thighs and my lips are still tingling long after Jake leaves.

That’s it?

He rocked my world with a kiss and left me. The nerve of him! And shame on him for leaving me hanging.

Have I lost my touch?

This is ridiculous. I am mad—furious, even. Jake Rivers had no business kissing me, especially not in my parent’s house, where anyone could’ve seen. But here I am, sitting on the guest bed with my fingers pressed to my mouth like a love-struck teenager. I felt alive in his arms.

I close my eyes, and as much as I try to push the memory away, it rushes back to me—still fresh in my mind. The way he looked at me—like he was seeing straight through every wall I’ve built around my heart. And the way his strong, warm hands cupped my face? Well, it was panty melting, to say the least. And his lips on mine for a perfect kiss...

God, and that kiss? Life altering! His lips were like a fresh apple pie, warm, sweet, and just like sweet things, he left me yearning for more! But damn, his presence has a way of filling a room. His Easter egg blue eyes haunt me. The fact that he’s extremely muscular is icing on the cake. I must have made a fool of myself, clinging to his chest like that. I bet all the women he kisses do that and more!

I noticed him at the party and how he spoke to Ellie when most of the players were too nervous tiptoeing around the unfortunate events that led to me becoming her mother. It’s either that, or they weren’t comfortable around small kids. It could be the fact I’m the Coach’s daughter, that taboo title that has followed me my entire life!

I let out a frustrated groan before flopping back against the bed. Jake Rivers is nothing but trouble. He’s a football player, a charmer, and exactly the kind of man I’ve spent years avoiding. Not to mention the unspoken rule that’s hung over my head since I was a kid—the Coach’s daughter is off-limits.

But secretly, I’m hoping he’ll cross the line.

Because in my twenty-five years on this planet, nobody has ever crossed that line. Nobody has even attempted it. And Jake? Well, he’s been coached by my dad long enough to know better. But he has a rugged edge to him and he just might be the one to step up to the line of scrimmage to have a shot at me.

The kiss was a declaration of what? Is he being a tease because he knew nothing would happen at my parent’s house tonight? Was it a risk that provided a safety net for him? Now, I’m afraid I might not hear from him. Because all I want is well—more.

I loved how he took me by surprise. He owned the moment and he made me want to feel again.

It’s painfully obvious to me that I’ve been sitting on the sidelines for years. I hate to admit it but my mother made a great point. I’ve been hiding behind Ellie because, well—it’s safe. The fact Ellie has mentioned Jake a few times today tells me she’s ready for someone to join us.

Truth be told, Ellie should have a dad or a father figure in her life. She has so much ahead of her like father-daughter dances, and a father would be someone to teach her how to ride a bike and play sports. I was speechless watching her and Jake interact today. I marveled at how fast they just clicked—like a gear on a windup watch.

He made an impression on her, too. And I don’t know how I feel about that. Am I ready to share her with someone else? I’m compelled to protect her from the world. I never want her to be sad over losing someone again—but there’s more to it. I don’t need a shrink to decipher what’s in my subconscious.

I have a bad history. First, Ellen died, and then my boyfriend, Rob, left. The people I love tend to leave. And that’s why I have rules.

I stick to the rules because I don’t want to get hurt. Losing my sister was difficult and deep down inside of me, I think I can prevent a disaster by controlling events. Let’s face facts, being in control means I’ve minimized the risk of the unknown. I am overly protective of Ellie and if I’m being honest—myself.

I roll onto my side and stare at the bright orange moon out the window. I should be packing—we’re leaving for the airport tomorrow—but my mind keeps circling back to Jake.

The way his voice sounded when he spoke to Ellie—low and warm—as if he was sharing a secret that was only meant for her. The way Ellie laughed when he tossed the football with her struck a chord in me. It reminded me of evening tosses with my dad.

Jake and Ellie shared the same camaraderie today. It was like she’d known him forever. Seeing the two of them together moved me. It’s also caused me to doubt my hands-off approach to dating.

I sigh, hugging the fluffy pillow to my chest. It would’ve been so easy to stand on that porch and let myself hope—just for a second—that someone like Jake could fit into our lives.

But that’s not how things work. I have Ellie to think about. I can’t afford to let my guard down, not with her watching me, and not when there’s so much at stake.

I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to love again.

Still, as I drift off to sleep, one thought keeps creeping into my mind and that is the fact that I’m leaving for Cherry Point tomorrow with it, any possibility of seeing him again.

I fell into a fitful sleep because Jake stirred feelings inside me that I’d put on ice. I shelved my lust, desire, and frankly, my single life after Rob left.

Not that I had men lined up to date me. Cherry Point is a small town with limited resources, and available men are at the top of that list. Sure, I wonder what life would be like if I moved to Maine but Ellie and I have a simple life. It’s filled with friends and our routine, albeit, one that doesn’t include me having a boyfriend or city lights.

Ellie was three when her mother died and she regressed into younger stages of development for a few months. I’m sure keeping her near me instead of going to daycare helped us bond. In time, I became her protector and together we embarked on a new beginning. And not much has changed except for the fact that Ellie has grown. I fall to sleep replaying Jake’s kiss.

***

I wake before the crack of dawn and make my way to the overly bright and freshly renovated kitchen. I blink to ease my eyes open before I make a pot of coffee.

Dad is up first.

“Good morning, Sam. What are you doing up so early?”

“It’s difficult to sleep in a strange bed.” I can’t tell him that thoughts of Jake were the real reason.

“Is it that or the fact every single player in the room had his eyes on you last night?”

I blush fifteen shades of red— none of them look pretty on me. “I didn’t notice,” I lie.

“You should consider dating. Ellie won’t break, you know. You won’t either.”

“I know.”

“Well, I know your mother would love to see you settled.”

“I am,” I make air quotes, “settled.”

He wants to say more, but for the moment, he’s refrained from making one to make me talk.

I seize the moment to make my case. “I’m fine. Ellie is fine. Would it be nice to have someone? I suppose. I’m just not ready.”

“Fine,” he replies before taking a sip of his coffee. Then Dad says, “You’re wonderful, I just want you to have everything.”

“I think I’ve been lucky as it is. I have Ellie and my business is doing well. Maybe that’s all my life was meant to be.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short, Sam.”

“I know you and Mom want the world for me, just like I want that for Ellie, but I’m not sure it’s in the stars, y’know? We all can’t be lucky like you and Mom.”

“You’re right about that but it’s not the end of the world if you decide to test the water.”

“I know.”

Thankfully, Ellie bounds into the room and throws her arms around his legs. “Grandpa!” she beams at him.

“Ellie, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Waffles.” It’s their thing. It’s one of the three things Dad can make for breakfast, and waffles only exist because they are out of a box that’s kept in the freezer. Dad pulls frozen waffles out and puts two in the toaster. He gives me a look.

“I’m fine.” Coffee is usually my go-to drink and serves as my breakfast.

He nods and carries on with Ellie, for which I’m relieved. I’m out of the hot seat for the moment.

Mom joins us in the kitchen and with no further nagging, the morning is enjoyable.

We enjoy a leisurely morning together but I’m antsy. I’m feeling the withdrawal from being at my house and I’m lost without my routine.

After afternoon leftovers it’s time to head out.

I’m dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, capris, and Keds when I reappear downstairs. Ellie is ready to go and looks like a mini-me only Mom has put her hair in a ponytail.

My parents hug and kiss us. Dad puts the luggage in the trunk. “You should have let us pick you up. Sometimes you’re too independent for your own good! It’s not the end of the world to rely on someone.”

“I know,” I reply matter-of-factly. But it’s not in my nature to rely on anyone. After another round of hugs and a promise to call more, we head to the airport.

When we walk through the doors, the terminal smells of coffee and stale air. Ellie’s little hand feels warm in mine as we wait in line for security. I’ve been on autopilot all morning—packing, checking in, and making sure Ellie had everything she needed. But no matter how busy I keep myself, my mind keeps circling back to him.

“Auntie Sam?” Ellie’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. She’s looking up at me with her wide, curious eyes. “Do you think we’ll see the nice football player again?”

Her question makes my stomach flip. I kneel to her level, brushing a curl out of her face. “What makes you ask that, sweetie?”

Ellie shrugs. “He was nice. And he taught me how to throw the ball like this!” She mimics the motion, with her little arms as she makes as if she’ll fling an imaginary football.

I can’t help but smile. “He was nice, wasn’t he?”

Ellie nods, her brow furrowing. “Do you know him, Aunt Sam?”

The question catches me off guard. “I... not really,” I admit. I was in shock when Ellen died, it was a blur and the details of that week are still unknown to me to this day.

And it’s true. I don’t know Jake Rivers, not really. I mean, I know what everyone does and possibly a tad more with the bits and pieces I’ve overheard from my dad over the years.

However, I don’t know what makes him tick, or what he loves, or what he was doing kissing me last night. Half of me wanted him to drag me to a vacant bedroom and what comes after that scares me.

I don’t know if I’m more afraid of being accepted in his world or if I’m more afraid of him rejecting me. I’m in shape and I suppose some would think I’m cute but all I see are things I need to improve.

I make decisions all day long, and I’m known to be a workaholic. I’m also a perfectionist and there are days where I wish I could be more go with the flow. I’m too serious about everything.

I don’t know what man would want to be surrounded by a woman who can’t survive without planning out the entire day before she gets out of bed.

I lack spontaneity. And that’s where Ellie is my silver lining. Her presence brings about daily changes and a different perspective. I’ll never be carefree like her but she keeps me on my toes and she pushes me to step outside of my comfort zone.

And Jake did that last night.

He made a bold move. And in those fleeting moments, it felt like I’d seen a glimpse of something real. We had a connection.

Or was it in my head?

“Will we see Jake again?” Ellie asks, tilting her head.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t know, Ellie. Maybe.”

Will I see Jake again? Do I want to see him again? What would I say?

The thought of him having me in his arms again sends a shiver down my spine, and it’s with equal parts of excitement and fear. Because if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that Jake Rivers isn’t like anyone I've ever met.

And that scares me the most.

She accepts that answer easily enough, skipping ahead to the next line as I gather our bags. But for me, the question lingers. I doubt he’s thinking of me. I’m nothing special. He’s used to the bright lights and the big city, and models—gorgeous women. I can’t compete with them. Besides, I’m sure Jake’s forgotten me.

We pass through security and approach our gate.

Ellie skips ahead of me and into the waiting area. Her dark curls bounce as she heads straight for the little corner booth near the window—the one I’ve unofficially claimed as her space. Her pink backpack lands on the bench with a thud, and she slides into her seat with a triumphant grin.

“Spring break is coming up and I can’t wait for camp. This year will be the best ever,” she declares, pulling out her sketchpad.

“Sweetheart, you haven’t even gone yet,” I remind her.

“But it’s going to be awesome,” she insists without flinching. Her eyes are wide with excitement. “They have painting class, and?—”

“Glitter?” I interrupt, raising an eyebrow.

Ellie’s grin stretches wider. “So much glitter!” she moans as if it’s an edible food. The expression on her face is priceless.

I suppress a laugh. Glitter is her jam but it’s my nightmare. Glitter is the evil twin of Playdough. Both of them stick to everything and are impervious to my efforts to get them off the tile and carpets. After an art project, I find myself vacuuming glitter out of every corner of the house for weeks, but the way Ellie’s face lights up when she opens a container of it makes it all worth it. Well, almost.

Our flight is announced and we board. I look at the numbers so I can find our seats. I set my laptop bag on my seat and make sure she’s buckled in first. When I’m situated, I open my laptop and look over the inn’s reservations.

“All right, kiddo,” I say, ruffling her curls. “How about you draw for a bit while I check in with Maggie before we take off?”

She nods emphatically and sets her activity pad on her lap.

When the plane is in the air I assume the illicit thoughts of the sexy football player will be left in Maine as well—won’t it?

Home. My version of it, anyway. I find my car and we drive through the lush, rolling hills.

There’s something to be said for familiarity breeding contempt. I went to college in New York City so I’m not a stranger to large cities. I know what it’s like to ride public transportation and to have a viable city at my fingertips. At times, I miss being able to go to an all-night café, or a club with friends on a minute’s notice.

But Cherry Point is where we’ve built a home and I’m giving Ellie the childhood I grew up with and I don’t have any complaints. Besides, this sleepy town has been good to us.

I’m anxious to check on the restaurant. Far be it from me to relinquish control even if my competent friend Maggie is at the helm.

The radio is on and Ellie is busy singing along to the words of her favorite pop star as we drive home from the airport. I realize I would be lonely if it weren’t for Ellie.

I never planned on being a single mom, but I love being a mother to her so I suppose it’s for the best that we’ve got each other. We never knew who Ellie’s father was. My sister lived her life on her terms and she carried us on her journey—her life was filled with promise.

Mom and Dad never blamed her for being a single mom. Ellen had her life under control and made all her endeavors look effortless. She was an aspiring actress, and she loved big city lights. Perhaps that was what made her unapproachable to many. Her zest for living on the edge intimidated me.

She was a force of nature. And I learned early on that I can’t compete with her. She could light up a room as soon as she walked into it. I need to carry a streetlamp to get the same effect.

We walk into the restaurant tucked inside the Dragonfly Inn. I always dreamed of having an inn.

The bell above the restaurant door chimes as Ellie and I step inside. The familiar smells of freshly baked bread and herbs greet me like an old friend. The restaurant is alive with servers rolling silverware, and the hum of the espresso machine is music to my ears. I hear the distant chatter of staffers wafting in from the kitchen.

My childhood was as close to the picture-perfect life you read about in books. But in my opinion, mine was better. The kitchen is a controlled frenzy, but that’s how I like it. The clatter of pots and pans, and the hissing of pots boiling on the stove is my kind of music. And the simmering marinara sauce? That’s the melody to this vibrant song, and it’s the perfect addition to my day.

Maggie swings through the revolving door, startled to see me. She wipes her hands on her apron. “Well, well. Look who’s back,” she says, her tone teasing as she leans against the counter.

“Miss me already?” I reply, grabbing a notepad from behind the bar.

“Like a hole in the head,” she quips. “How was the big bash?”

I hesitate, and it’s all she needs to glean information that I’m not ready to share. My moment with Jake is one I’m holding close to my vest. It was a private moment. It was perfect, and it made my stomach flutter with an intensity that I’d never known.

Her eyes narrow, her smirk growing. “Uh-oh. That’s a look. Spill.”

“It’s nothing,” I brush her off hoping she’ll drop it.

“Uh-huh. Sure. “Nothing” doesn’t leave you looking like you’ve been thinking too hard about something—or someone.”

I shoot her a glare. “Maggie,” I whine.

“Fine, fine,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender. “But you know where to find me when you’re ready to give me the deets. This I have got to hear. I’ve waited years for you to get all starry-eyed over a man. ”

I raise an eyebrow at her reference to a man.

“Why does a smile on my face equate to a man? Maybe I have gas.”

She chuckles. “You’re a grown-ass woman. You don’t have an excuse for that look in your eye—the look that’s just short of I’m in love, look. You know that far away, dazed look.”

Ellie makes herself at home as she shadows Maggie.

“For all you know, I bumped my head on the car door,” I deflect.

“Not a chance,” she replies, unfazed by my attempt at humor.

I shake my head in difference and duck into my office to escape further interrogation. But once I’m alone, Jake’s face sneaks into my thoughts again, and again. It’s unnerving. It was one kiss so why can’t I forget it?

Then, I remember his voice and how easy it was on my ears. His perfect lips teased me, and he made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years. The way he made Ellie laugh showed me how great he can be with kids.

The devil on my shoulder argues that anyone can fake it at a party. The proof of character is in the day-in and day-out drill of the everyday grind. The proof is in the pudding they say, and in this situation, I agree. But I’ll never hear from him so there’s no point in daydreaming over the gorgeous man with a body that rivals that of Adonis.

I sigh, dropping into my chair. I’ve got too much to focus on to let myself get distracted by...Jake. Especially when he’s so far away. Our lives would have never crossed paths if it weren’t for my father.

Besides, our worlds are so different. He’s a huge star and all that it implies. And me? My life is set exactly the way it needs to be. It’s logical, orderly—and predictable. I never look over the counter here or in the inn and think maybe my future Mr. Wonderful is going to be staring back at me.

Nope. My romantic bed and breakfast is for honeymooners, lovers, and families. Bachelors don’t come to sleepy small towns looking for love.

My thoughts are interrupted by Ellie. “Aunt Sam!”

And a second later, she’s standing in the doorway, holding her sketchpad up like a trophy.

“Look what I made!” she says, practically bouncing.

I smile, taking the sketchpad from her. She’s drawn a lopsided sun and a few stick figures—one with long hair (me), one with dark long curly hair (her), and another tall figure holding a football.

My stomach flips. “Who’s this?” I ask, pointing to the third figure, even though I already know.

“Jake,” she says matter-of-factly like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I swallow hard. “You drew Jake?”

Ellie bobs her head emphatically before climbing into my lap. “He was nice. And he said I could throw a football like a real player.”

I chuckle softly, running a hand through her curls. “He did, did he?”

She looks up at me, her expression suddenly serious. “Will he come to visit us?”

The question makes my heart lurch. “I don’t know, Ellie,” I say honestly. “I’m sure he’s busy.”

Her face falls for just a second before she bounces off my lap. “It’s okay. I’m going to draw him again, so we don’t forget! I had fun with him.”

Jake not only infiltrated my thoughts but Ellie’s as well. Can I blame her? She deserves the one-on-one attention of men who are good father figures-esque even if it’s only for a day .

I watch her skip out of my office and notice that her energy is contagious. Her lighthearted, carefree ways are perfect to lift me out of my heavy thoughts.

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of meetings with staff, prepping menus for the week, and looking over guest check-ins. Ellie alternates between her sketchpad and running errands for Maggie. Ellie loves her “assistant to the assistant manager” title.

By the time the dinner rush ends, I’m bone-tired, but there’s a strange sort of peace in the exhaustion. It’s late and Elli is curled up in her booth, and fast asleep under her favorite blanket. The staff is finishing up dishes and Jose is mopping the floors.

Maggie leans against the counter beside me, watching as I tidy up the register. “She had a good day,” she says, nodding toward Ellie.

“Yeah,” I reply softly. “She loves to be included.”

“All kids do. You’re a great Mom. But you look different. Are you okay?” Maggie asks, her voice gentler this time.

I glance at her, then at Ellie before I look out the window where the moon cast long shadows on the lawn. “I think I’m just... tired,” I say, making excuses to myself that this is as good as it gets. And I’m okay with that. It wasn’t until I saw Jake again that I let myself think there could be something more. I blame my mother. She’s in my head. I was perfectly content when I arrived in Maine. Now—now so much.

Maggie studies me for a moment, then nods. “Go home, Sam. Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another day.”

I nod, grateful for her understanding. Tomorrow is a new day. And with Jake Rivers still lingering in my thoughts, I wonder what he’s doing tonight.

After Ellie is tucked in bed for the night, I steal a minute to look for Jake online.

He’s single. His football picture makes me wet between the legs. I remember his manly cologne and cute grin. Then, an article catches my attention. I read more, fervently flipping down the page. It appears he’s missing spring training camp due to an injury. His prognosis is day-to-day.

That doesn’t sound good.

His presence stirred up things I’d put to bed. Damn him for reminding me what it’s like to feel passion. Like how incredible it would be to have a man make love to me again. I miss someone to keep my feet warm at night. I miss someone to bounce ideas off of and someone to break up my moods. And damn it, I miss clam bakes on the beach, too.

I rarely take Ellie because it’s so much work for one person. On top of that, I went a few times with Ellie last year, but the memories of my sister haunted me and made me sad. I tell Ellie it’s too much work for the two of us to make the trip to the beach, but the truth is—I miss my sister and I haven’t been able to go visit the beach without being extremely sad so I avoid going.

Some memories are difficult to shake. I don’t want to forget her—but there are times I wish the memories would take a backseat so I can create new ones.