Chapter 1 #2
“You’re definitely being too nice,” I say. “Have you seen these bags under my eyes? I’m exhausted. Which is why I’m here. Can you put a girl out of her misery and hook me up with your famous caramel iced latte?”
“You know I always got you.” Josie puts in my order and takes my money before getting Aubrey’s order.
“I’ll have the same,” Aubrey says.
As Josie bustles off, I lean over to Aubrey. “You can tell she loves what she’s doing.”
“I know. She’s put her entire heart into this place. Just like what you’ve done with your boutique.”
The door opens, and one of the moms from Nolan’s soccer team comes in. “Hey, Jenna,” I call to her.
“Did you hear the team is getting a substitute coach today?” Jenna asks. “Jace has the flu, so he’s sending his brother in his place.”
“I didn’t know Jace has a brother,” I say.
“Apparently, he’s just moved into town,” Jenna explains. “Not to mention, he’s a famous pro soccer player.”
“Oh, that’s so cool. Nolan will be so excited.”
“My son’s a little excited, too.” Jenna laughs.
“Is he single?” Aubrey asks, giving me a meaningful glance.
I elbow her. “That information is irrelevant,” I say in a chirpy voice. “All that matters is that he does a good job with the kids.”
Jenna furrows her brow. “I hope he does. To be honest, I’m a little concerned about him working with the kids. I heard he has an attitude problem.”
“He’d better not take out his issues on the team,” Aubrey says.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t do something like that,” I say to Jenna. But the truth is, I don’t know anything about this guy. For all I know, he could be a total jerk.
Nolan and I walk across the soccer field to where his team is already practicing.
I told him on the way over about Jace being sick and the new coach.
Although, I didn’t tell him the rumor about him being grumpy.
I don’t know a thing about this guy, not even his name.
I don’t know what team he played for or what his problem is.
And I don’t care. My only concern is to make sure my son has fun at his soccer practice, which has been his everything lately.
“Are you Nolan?” the new coach asks as we approach.
“Yes, sir.”
The substitute coach has a hat pulled down low over his wavy, dark hair and is wearing a pair of sunglasses. He scowls at Nolan. “You’re late.”
Nolan’s shoulders slump, and I fight the urge to ball up my fist at him. I don’t like the tone he’s using with my son.
“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“Go run an extra lap around the field.”
My son starts running, and I go back to the car to get my chair and what’s left of my iced coffee.
I wear my chair like a backpack—I have the soccer mom thing down to an art: my favorite baseball cap, my hair back in a ponytail draped over my shoulder, my sunglasses to block out the sunset trying to blind me, and of course, the nectar of the gods.
I sip on the drink and moan at how good it is.
Josie is an angel. It’s a warm day for March, and the grass is growing back.
Nolan is already busy doing drills, having finished his laps. I weave through the crowd and stumble over a small cooler right into a wall of muscle, my drink smashing into the substitute coaches chest and exploding all over both of us.
He’s solid—like slamming into a marble statue wrapped in warm skin. The kind of solid you only get from hours in the gym.
He places his hands on my bare arms to steady me. My skin tingles where his hands touch, chemistry zipping between us. He rips his hands off me like he’s been burned. Did he feel that, too?
I don’t have time to ponder what it means because I look down at the empty cup in my hands, the lid askew.
No! My coffee! I don’t care about the mess.
I just want my drink back. But there is another smell beyond the brewed beans.
And it’s something spicy and warm and intoxicating.
I look straight up, into the eyes of a god.
This man is dangerously gorgeous. He took off his sunglasses to wipe the coffee off of them, revealing the most beautiful mahogany eyes.
But I’ve seen him before. Where? I don’t watch pro soccer.
“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
I tug off the shirt I wore for layers with my tank top underneath.
Most of the coffee got on him, so my shirt is still pretty dry.
It’s brown and will do fine to absorb coffee.
I pat at the moisture on his rock-hard chest and move down to a set of washboard abs.
My hand thumps over each one as I wipe him down.
A rumbling vibrates through my shirt as he growls, and the hard, muscular surface moves away from me.
I reach in to follow it, and my hands freezes midair.
Oh, no. He’s backing up. I’ve made him uncomfortable. I’m so used to cleaning up my son that I haven’t even stopped to think that this man may not appreciate me invading his space.
He doesn’t even speak. He grunts. And he’s not smiling. Not that I blame him. I just attacked him with my beloved coffee. He has every right to glower at me.
“Mom! He’s the guy from the laundry soap commercial! Lucas Hensley!” Nolan says, jogging up to me.
“Oh, you are!” My face instantly lights on fire.
“Remember? The one you said was really hot with the big muscles as he sniffed all the clothes?”
The coach doesn’t crack a smile. He stands there frowning at me with his eyes all dark and angry as the coffee drips off him.
“Nolan! We don’t talk like that. Don’t you know better than to run your mouth?”
I’m ready to die. My kid has no shame and no filter.
Lucas’ gaze travels over my body for a quick second before taking the shirt from me and using it as a towel to clean up.
I glance down and realize why he’s looking at me like that.
I forgot this tank top shows a bit of cleavage, and I’m wearing my push-up bra, which makes my boobs more noticeable.
My face heats. He probably thinks I planned all this to come onto him since he’s famous.
I was literally grabbing whatever I could find that was clean since I need to do laundry.
I can’t exactly put my shirt back on since it’s become a cleaning rag, so now I have to stand around like a hoochie mama. So much for my soccer-mom look.
Thank goodness this guy is only the substitute coach. Because I’ll probably never have to see him again.