Page 55 of Wrangling a Texas Hometown Hero

It was this.

Football.

He loved this game. He had thought it had to do with all the accolades he’d gotten for playing it well. But now he realized, it had more to do with his father. Tossing the football with his daddy was the only time he’d had his father all to himself—the only time he’d felt his daddy’s love. All his life, he’d been trying to duplicate that feeling. Every throw he made was his attempt to bring that feeling back. But bringing his father back to life was impossible. What was possible was remembering those times with his father and realizing that his daddy might have left him, but he hadn’t left him without giving him something.

He’d given him the love of football.

Jace wanted to give that same gift to every boy on his team—his hometown team. He had struggled to figure out what he wanted to do with his life and now all the pieces seemed to be falling into place. Wilder was his home. It would always be his home. This was where he wanted to live. Where he wanted to get married and raise a family.

He glanced at Hallie.

There was only one woman he could imagine doing that with.

It was growing dark by the time Jace called an end to the mayhem and told everyone to go home and get some rest before the game tomorrow night. He planned to head over to talk with Hallie, but when he turned to the bleachers, he discovered she was gone. Disappointed, he started to follow his team into the locker room when her voice wrapped around him like the warm autumn breeze.

“Where ya goin’, cowboy?”

He turned to see her standing on the field with the last rays of the setting sun encircling her in a vibrant aura of reddish orange. He couldn’t speak over the lump of emotion that filled his throat. She moved closer, bringing with her the scent that was uniquely Hallie.

“I guess you didn’t find a kicker?” she asked.

Unable to stop himself, he reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair off her face. Her eyes drifted shut at his touch and his heart picked up speed. “No, but it will be okay.” As long as Hallie was here, everything would be okay.

Her eyes opened and he got lost in the green depths. “What happened to the pessimistic man from a few weeks ago?”

He smoothed one ponytail, enjoying the way the silky strands felt running across his palm. ““Maybe he’s figured out that life is too short to waste on negativity.”

“Or maybe he’s just figured out that coaching his hometown football team is what he should be doing.”

He smiled. “Maybe.”

A smile tipped the corners of her mouth, a mouth he desperately wanted to kiss. But there were still a few high schoolers lingering around and he didn’t want to get fired when he’d just figured out this was where he wanted to be. Where he belonged. And Hallie belonged here too. Since she had helped him to realize what he wanted, he figured it was his turn to help her.

“What about you, Hallie? What is it that you want to be doing?”

It was easy to read the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. Having been there, he plunged on.

“I know you’ve always wanted to pave your own way—always wanted to prove that you can do anything you set your mind to. But I think you’ve set your mind on the wrong thing. Your beer is good—in fact, it’s great. But you aren’t some big-city business owner. You’re a country girl. A country girl who loves to ranch. I know you struggle to get along with your daddy, but your daddy doesn’t own the ranch anymore. Corbin does. And we had a long talk and I made sure he realized that ranching was your passion, not beer.” He grinned. “Which is why he’s been holding off on hiring a foreman and also on giving you the money for your brewery.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You had a long talk with Corbin about me?”

He couldn’t pull her into his arms, but he couldn’t keep from taking her hand and linking their fingers. “I sure did. Any fool can see how much you love the Holiday Ranch—how much you’ve always loved it. You’ll never feel about beer the way you feel about ranching.”

“And I guess you’re no fool.” The anger in her voice was easy to read.

“Now don’t be getting angry, Teeny Weeny. I’m just—”

She jerked her hand away. “Butting in where you have no business butting in.”

“Now, wait a second. You butted in and told me that you thought I should be coaching.”

“I didn’t go behind your back and ask Ms. Stokes to blackmail you!” She looked away from him and snorted. “You might not be a fool, but I certainly am. I’m a fool for thinking you were different than every other man who loves to take charge of a woman’s life and tell her what she can and can’t do.”

“I never told you—”

Once again, a ball came out of nowhere. This time he was too preoccupied to catch it. It struck him in the head and it took a moment to get over the shock of the direct hit.

“Sorry!” A teenage girl ran up to claim the ball. It wasn’t a football like he’d thought. It was a soccer ball. The girl had dark-brown hair pulled back in a straggly ponytail. She didn’t pick up the ball. Instead, she did a drill where she manipulated the ball around her feet before popping it up in the air and bouncing it off her knee. Once it settled on the turf again, she drew back her foot and kicked the ball . . . right through the goal posts.

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