Page 12 of Scoring with the Coach's Daughter

As a child, I couldn’t wait to get out of the small town where I grew up. But now I’m wondering if I judged it fairly. I like getting lost in the city away from the scrutiny of strangers who are curious about my life and want to know every detail of it.

When I pull up to the Dragonfly Inn, it’s as if I was meant to be her and it’s just as I envisioned it. Sam’s place has an aura of mysticism about it as the name implies. The inn looks like it stepped out of a storybook, with its white wraparound porch, wicker chairs, and hanging flower baskets filled with monolithic Boston Ferns swaying in the breeze.

My pulse kicks up a notch as I step out of the truck, the only sound I hear is the gravel as it crunches under the weight of my boots with each step and a chorus of chirping birds bellow like a complementing melody. I glance around, looking for Sam but the front yard is empty. My gut twists. Am I ready for this? Or did I make an impetuous decision that I’lllive to regret? I take another step. What the hell? I’ve made tons of bad decisions in my lifetime. I hardly see where pursuing a woman who piques my interest would be on a list of regrets.

I walk up the four steps and push open the red screen door, not knowing what to expect. But knowing Sam and her mother, I’m sure I’ll be impressed. And I am correct as I take in the country vibe of the foyer. Pictures of Sam and her sister, Ellen adorn the wall.

To my right is a sitting room with a fireplace. The stately bookcase is filled with limited editions and board games for kids and adults. The sofa and overstuffed chairs are taupe and act as accent pieces to the forest-green walls.

The lobby smells like lemon polish and fresh flowers, and there’s a faint hum of conversation drifting from the back—probably the restaurant. I step up to the check-in counter, trying to figure out what I’ll say if she appears.

But she isn’t here and my heart sinks.

A young man in a crisp white shirt and a black apron greets me. “Welcome to the Dragonfly Inn. Can I help you?”

I clear my throat, trying to sound casual. “I’m looking for Samantha McAllister.”

The guy raises an eyebrow, but before he can say anything, I hear her voice.

“I’ll be right there!”

My heart does this stupid thing where it skips a beat. I turn toward the sound, and there she is, coming through the side door, balancing a stack of towels in one hand and pushing a loose strand of hair out of her face with the other.

And just like that, I’m back at the party, standing in Coach’s living room trying to work up the nerve to ask her out.

Her hair’s falling out of this messy bun like she’s been running around all day, and there’s a littlesmudge of flour on her cheek. She hands the clean towels to the man at the front desk and looks up, her eyes locking on mine. She freezes.

“Jake?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey, Sam,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel.

She blinks, her cheeks flushing pink. “What are you doing here?”

I shove my hands in my pockets, feeling a little like a kid caught sneaking cookies. “I, uh... needed some physical therapy. Dr. Reid came highly recommended. Thought I’d stay somewhere nice while I’m here.”

Her eyes narrow slightly like she’s not buying the coincidence, but before she can say anything else, I hear the sound of little footsteps pounding down the hall.

“Jake!”

Ellie barrels into the room like a miniature tornado with a thick book under her arm. Her curls fly behind her as she launches herself at me.

“I knew you’d find us!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around my legs.

The breath leaves my lungs in a rush, and I crouch down to her level. “Hey, kiddo,” I say, ruffling her hair. “You didn’t think I’d forget about you, did you?”

She pulls back, her grin as wide as the sun as she looks at Sam. “I told you he’d come!”

I glance up at Sam, whose mouth is slightly open like she can’t believe what’s happening. “You did, huh?”

Ellie grabs my hand, tugging me toward the door. “Come on! You have to see the restaurant! And the garden! Aunt Sam’s vegetables are great and she uses them to feed people.”

“Ellie,” Sam starts her voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

“It’s okay,” I say, grinning at Sam as Ellie practically drags me out of the lobby. “I’ve got this,” I reply with a wink.

Ellie gives me the grand tour, talking a mile a minute as she shows me every corner of the property. The garden is a riot of color—green vegetables, herbs, and near it, a terrace of roses growing over a greenhouse. The yard is magnificent, covered with daisies, and wild purple flowers, of which, I’m clueless as to their name.

“My Mom planted these,” Ellie says, pointing to a cluster of flowers. “She said they make people happy.”

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