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

7. Jake

7

JAKE

The morning is bright and clear. A light layer of fog surrounds me, but I find it comforting, and serene. It adds the allure of mystery to my new environment as I stare into the horizon that surrounds the small inn which already has a charming vibe.

I felt it when I stepped on Sam’s porch. The cooler air whisps by and the dampness adds a crisp, briskness to the morning. The ambiance is fleeting because by noon it will be sunny and hot, typical of the southern sun this time of year.

Ellie skips ahead of me, and she practically drags her little backpack along the gravel path leading to the car. She hums something—probably the theme song to a cartoon she likes—completely oblivious to the little tug of unease in her mother’s expression.

Sam stands on the porch, one hand clutching a coffee mug with the word, UP and the cute dog from the movie on it, and her other hand rests on her hip. She looks at Ellie, then at me, back at Ellie, and her brows knit together as she thinks.

“I can take her, you know,” she says, her voice tight with that nervous energy she gets whenever she isn’t in complete control.

“I know,” I reply easily, leaning against the truck and crossing my arms. “But you’ve got a busy morning, right? Prep for the lunch rush at the restaurant, invoicing, or whatever it is you do to keep this place going. I’ve got this.” I wink at her.

Funny how I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and I can see myself with them indefinitely. Sam’s lips on the coffee mug feed my salacious thoughts in my head and what I’d like for her lips to be caressing—and it’s not a ceramic cup.

Her lips press into a thin line, and for a second, I think she’ll argue. But then Ellie spins around and runs back to the porch, flinging her arms around Sam’s waist.

“Aunt Sam, please let Jake take me!” Ellie says, her voice high and insistent. “You said I could go to camp without you walking me to registration this year! Besides, I want to ride in the truck.”

Sam hesitates, her fingers brushing through Ellie’s curls as she looks down at her daughter. Finally, she sighs, her shoulders dropping just a fraction. “Fine,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. “But don’t let her talk you into anything crazy.”

“Me?” I grin, holding up my hands. “Never.”

Sam rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she kisses Ellie’s forehead and sends her running back to me.

Ellie chatters nonstop on the way to camp, her excitement bubbling over like a pot of water set on high after it boils. She tells me about the crafts she wants to make and explains friendship bracelets to me. She rattles off all the games she will play and how much fun it will be now that she is officially older and going to be a leader this year.

“Leader, huh?” I ask, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

“Uh-huh!” she says, her voice brimming with pride. “I know all the rules and where everything is. I can help the new kids.”

“You’ve done this before?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Yup! Every spring and summer too!” she says. “But this year is gonna be the best ’cause you’re taking me!”

I laugh softly, shaking my head as she goes on about the camp schedule, barely pausing for breath. It’s hard not to smile when she is like this—so full of energy, like the world is hers for the taking.

I feel like a dad, and I love it. I’ve always been partial to kids, but there’s nothing like an injury to make me think long and hard about my next act. I want it to be with Sam and Ellie. It wasn’t until I saw Sam at her parents’ house that she set off a spark—rather a bomb inside me.

She’s come into her own with motherhood. I know she’s the one I want to have my kids because she’s a wonderful mom. Kids were suddenly on my radar after I saw her with Ellie at the coach’s party. I want to have a family. Mothers are a noble career choice, and Sam has figured out how to work and raise Ellie. I know it’s not easy for anyone to juggle both a home and work life.

Besides her mothering abilities, Sam is sexy as hell, and she has curves in all the right places. She doesn’t seem to know how pretty she is. She’s a talented chef, and her inn has great reviews. I know her father is proud of her, and that speaks volumes—he’s a tough man to please.

I can’t imagine growing up with him as he was probably tough due to that he’s a coach and likes structure, and then there is the fact that he was away from home so much. I wonder if Sam is considering me as a fixture in her life.

Not that we have much to go on aside from the kiss, but that’s going to change. I fantasize about what it would be like to be with her and make love to her. My cock is in a constant state of arousal when she’s in the room. I’d love to come to her after a road trip. I wonder if we’d have lazy days where we’d make breakfast for dinner?

I’d love to show her around the stadium. I could get used to weekend cookouts with my friends. She’d love the guys on the team. I’m sure with her family up there, she would adjust. She could start another inn or perhaps a restaurant.

I grin thinking about her on the porch this morning in her tight jeans, wearing a cropped hoodie, and bare feet. She loves to feel the earth under her toes. I wonder how she’d adjust to my penthouse. I’ll have to look for something more suitable if we further this relationship.

The morning sun peeks over the horizon, casting long shadows across the dewy grass. Kids have so much energy and Ellie is buzzing with excitement, but that doesn’t describe it well enough. It’s more like she’s vibrating as she hops from one foot to the other. I watch her curls bouncing like they have a mind of their own.

“Come on, Jake! We’re gonna be late!” she squeals, tugging on my hand.

I chuckle, as I help her into the truck. I make sure her seatbelt is fastened before I slam the truck’s door shut and ruffle her hair. It’s her first day of camp, and she’s been counting down the days like it’s the 12 Days of Christmas.

“Relax, champ. We’ve got plenty of time.”

I drive down a paved road and I all but miss the dilapidated wooden sign that displays “Mystic River Camp” on it.

“Here Jake!” Ellie exclaims enthusiastically. She points to the right and I turn immediately onto the dirt path that winds through a forest.

I marvel at how quaint this town is because I didn’t know places like this still existed. The air is filled with Ellie’s nonstop chatter about the activities she’s excited to try—archery, crafts, and nature hikes. She’s practically bouncing in her seat, and her enthusiasm is contagious. I find myself smiling more than usual, and her energy fills up the truck with enough sunshine to light the world.

When we pull up to the camp, the place looks like it’s been plucked straight out of a postcard from the past. Old wooden buildings, weathered by time and countless summers, stand sturdy against the backdrop of towering pines. Overgrown ferns create a pathway along the pavers that lead to the main building, with its sagging porch and faded sign reading Main Hall.

Ellie grabs my hand, dragging me across the wooden floor toward the check-in table. The scent of pine needles and campfires lingers in the crisp morning air. Kids are running around, their laughter echoing through the trees, mixing with the distant calls of birds and cicadas.

At the check-in table, sits an older woman with a beehive of silver curls and cat eyeglasses perched on the tip of her nose. When we approach, she looks up from her clipboard. Her name tag reads “Mrs. Beatrice Holloway.” She eyes me up and down with an expression that’s somewhere between amusement and intrigue.

“Well, well,” she says, her voice dripping with a syrupy Southern drawl. “If it isn’t the tall, dark, and handsome stranger. I didn’t know the camp came with such a fine view,” and she drawls out the word “fine”.

Ellie giggles, and I clear my throat, trying to keep my cool.

Is she hitting on me?

“Jake Rivers,” I say, offering a polite smile. “I’m here to check in Ellie.”

Mrs. Holloway’s smile widens as she hands Ellie a name tag. “Lucky girl,” she says with a wink. “If you get tired of campfires and crafts, sweetie, your guardian can come find me. I make a mean lemonade… and I’m not talking about the drink.”

I chuckle awkwardly, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. Ellie, oblivious to the subtext, tugs on my arm and whines, “Come on, Jake!”

We head toward the main lodge, its creaky wooden floorboards groaning under our footsteps. The place smells of old wood, coffee, and faint traces of campfire smoke. The kitchen is bustling with staff preparing breakfast for the kids, the clatter of pots and pans adding to the morning symphony.

As we navigate through the chaos, a tall man with a rugged beard and an easy smile approaches. Mr. Lawson takes my hand and introduces himself as the Director. He’s got the kind of handshake that says he’s spent a lot of time outdoors—firm, calloused, confident.

“Call me Tom,” he says. He has a solid handshake. “You must be Jake Rivers,” he says, his eyes crinkling with genuine warmth. “I’ve heard you were in town. Football, right?”

I nod, offering a modest smile. “Guilty as charged.” I had forgotten the charm of a small town where anyone and everyone knows the latest gossip. I’m sure someone like me make the local headlines. I wonder if they have a Cherry Point Gazette or if they simply flooded the rumor mill.

“Well, Jake,” Tom says, clapping a hand on my shoulder, “we’re a little short on volunteers this week. Any chance you’d be interested in helping out? Maybe coach some of the kids in sports activities?”

Before I can politely decline, Ellie’s eyes go wide, and she grabs my hand with both of hers. “Oh, please, Jake! Please, please, please! It’d be so cool if you stayed! You could teach me football!”

I look down at her hopeful face, her big eyes pleading with me. My heart softens, and I let out a resigned sigh. “All right, all right. You win, kiddo.”

Ellie lets out a victorious cheer, jumping up and down. Tom grins, clearly pleased. “Welcome to the team, Coach Rivers.”

And just like that, my spring break plans take a detour. But as I watch Ellie’s face light up, I realize there are worse ways to spend a week.