It Started with a Crush.... Melissa McClone
name on her business card. The script might be artistic and a touch whimsical, but it showed strength and ingenuity, too.
Ryland straightened. He couldn’t let people saying no stop him. He was tougher than that. “I might have screwed up my career, but I’m not going to mess up this.”
The dog stared at him.
“I’ll find Lucy and those kids a coach.”
No matter what he had to do.
Two days later, Lucy stood in the front yard kicking a soccer ball to Connor. The afternoon sun shone high in the sky, but the weather might as well be cloudy and gray due to the frown on her nephew’s face. Practices began next week and the Defeeters still didn’t have a coach. Ryland hadn’t called back, either.
She tapped the ball with her left foot. It rolled too far to the left, out of Connor’s reach and into the hedge separating the yard from the neighbor’s. Lucy grimaced. “Sorry.”
Connor didn’t say a word but chased the ball. She knew what he was thinking because his expression matched her thoughts. The team needed someone who knew soccer better than she did, someone who could teach the kids the right skills and knew rules without having to resort to a book each time.
Her efforts to find a coach had failed. That left one person who could come to her—and the team’s—rescue.
It won’t be long. I promise.
Ryland’s words returned to her in a rush. Pathetic, how quick she’d been to believe them. As if she hadn’t learned anything based on her past experiences.
Okay, it had been only a couple of days. “Long” could mean a few days, a week, even a month. But “promise” was a seven-letter word that held zero weight with most of the people in this world.
Was Ryland one of them?
Time would tell, but for Connor’s sake she hoped not. He kicked the ball back to her.
She stopped the ball with her right foot the way she’d seen someone do on a video then used the inside of her foot to kick the ball back. She had better control this time. “Your teacher liked your book report.”
“I guess.”
“You got an A.”
Connor kicked the ball her way without stopping it first. “Are you sure he hasn’t called?”
“He” equaled Ryland. Connor had been asking that question nonstop, including a call during lunchtime using a classmate’s cell phone.
Lucy patted her jeans pocket. “My phone’s right here.”
“You checked your messages?”
“I did.” And rechecked them. No messages from Ryland. From anyone for that matter. She hadn’t made any close friends in Chicago. The ones who lived in Wicksburg had remained friends with her ex-husband after Lucy moved away. That made things uncomfortable now that she was back. The pity in their eyes reminded her of when she’d been sick. She wanted no part of that ever again. “But it’s only been a couple of days.”
“It feels like forever.”
“I know.” Each time her cell phone rang, thinking it might be Ryland filled her stomach with tingles of anticipation. She hated that. She didn’t want to feel that way about any guy calling her, even if the reason was finding a coach for her nephew’s soccer team. “But good things come to those who wait.”
Connor rolled the ball back and forth along the bottom of his foot. “That’s what Mom and Dad say. I’m trying to be patient, but it’s hard.”
“I know it’s hard to wait, but we have to give Ryland time.”
Connor nodded.
Please come through, Ryland. Lucy didn’t want Connor’s favorite player letting him down at the worst possible time. She didn’t want her nephew to have to face the kind of betrayal and disappointment she’d suffered due to others. Not when he was only nine, separated from his parents by oceans and continents.
He kicked the ball to her. “Maybe Ryland forgot.”
Lucy didn’t want to go there. The ball rolled past her toward the sidewalk. She chased after it. “Give him the benefit of the doubt.”
Connor didn’t say anything.
She needed him to stop focusing so much on Ryland. “Your dad wants to see videotapes of your games. He can’t wait to see how the team does this spring.”
She kicked the ball back. Connor touched the ball twice with his foot before kicking it to her.
“Next time only one touch,” she said.
Surprise filled his blue eyes. “That’s what my dad says.”
“It might come as a shock, but your aunt knows a few things about the game of soccer.” She’d found a book on coaching on the living-room bookcase and attended a coaching clinic put on by the league last night while Connor had dinner over at a friend’s house. “How about we kick the ball a few times more, then go to the pizza parlor for dinner? You can play those video games you like so much.”
“Okay.”
Talk about an unenthused reaction.
An old beat-up, blue pickup truck pulled to the curb in front of the house. The engine idled loudly, as if in need of a tune-up. The engine sputtered off. The truck lurched forward a foot, maybe two.
The driver’s door opened. Ryland.
Her heart thumped.
It won’t be long. I promise.
Tingles filled her stomach. He hadn’t let her down. He was still the same nice guy he’d been in high school.
Ryland rounded the front of the truck. He wore a white polo shirt with the Fuego logo on the left side, a pair of khaki shorts and the boot on his right foot. He wore a tennis shoe on his left. His hair was nicely styled. He’d shaved, removing the sexy stubble.
Even with his clean-cut look, she knew not to let her guard down. The guy was still dangerous. The only reason she was happy to see him was Connor.
A little voice inside her head laughed at that. She ignored it.
“It’s him.” Awe filled Connor’s voice. “Ryland James.”
“Yes, it’s him,” she said.
Ryland crossed the sidewalk and stood near them on the lawn. “Hello.”
Lucy fought the urge to step back and put some distance between them. “Hi.”
He acknowledged her with a nod, but turned his attention to the kid with the stars in his eyes. “You must be Connor.”
Her nephew nodded.
Lucy’s heart melted. Ryland knew how important this moment must be for her nephew.
Connor wiped his right hand against his shorts then extended his arm. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. James.”
As Ryland shook his hand, he grinned. “Call me Ryland.”
Connor’s eyes widened. He looked almost giddy with excitement. “Okay, Ryland.”
He motioned to the soccer ball. “Looks like you’ve been practicing. It’s good to get some touches on the ball every day.”
Connor nodded. The kid was totally starstruck. Lucy didn’t blame him for being wowed by Ryland. She was, too.
Better be careful.
Ryland used his left foot to push the ball toward Connor. “Let’s see you juggle.”
Connor swooped up the ball and bounced it off his bony knees. He used his legs and feet to keep the ball from touching the ground.
“You’re