Page 68 of Scoring with the Coach's Daughter

“I don’t want you to go,” she admits.

I step closer, testing the space between us. “But?”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head. “I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know how to do this without screwing it up.”

I reach out, tilting her chin up until she meets my gaze.

“You don’t have to know everything right now, it’s baby steps,” I tell her.

She nods and walks into me. I hug her. She feels so good in my arms. I pull her to me. God, I’ve missed her.

She wraps her arms around me and I feel like this is home.

“So, we’re good?” she asks.

“Yeah, now we need to get Ellie to bed so we can have makeup sex.”

“I’m all yours Jake Rivers.”

21

SAMANTHA

I wakeup to the aroma of coffee and I’m sure he’s making Ellie pancakes. It’s become their thing. She loves to crack the eggs and loves to mix things. I wonder if she’ll be a chef one day.

Did the argument set us back? Definitely. But if we can overcome one disagreement, who knows? If relationships were easy everyone would have one. I currently have more than I’ve ever thought I’d have with a partner and for that, I’m grateful—even if the past 24 hours have been strange.

My alarm goes off. I hit it to turn it off and scoot out of bed quickly. I toss a light sweatshirt over my tank top and tug on my Daisy May-style cut-off denim shorts because they are practically short enough to see more than I should show. I wear them because they are comfortable and perhaps, I’m coming on to Jake. I bound down the steps and saunter into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” I greet everyone with a sunny demeanor.

Ellie beams at me as she leans over the counter. “Jake’s making blueberry pancakes.”

“Is he?” I eye Jake, who is standing in his sweatpants. Damn, he’s hot. His chest is covered with enough hair to besexy, with light tufts running vertically above his navel. His biceps ripple as he skillfully holds the frying pan and then, he flips the huge pancake. He maneuvers himself under it like he’s auditioning for the circus.

Ellie giggles. “You’re so funny, Jake.”

“Am I?” he asks as he turns to her, and I catch him giving her a wink.

I help myself to coffee. I glance at the clock on the microwave to make sure we’re on time.

“Do you need help?” I ask to be polite. I have to be honest; he’s spoiling me rotten. I like having someone who lightens my load with chores.

“I got this. Can you make some eggs for us? I need the protein.”

“Sure.” I set my cup down and crack eggs in a bowl. “Is scrambled okay?”

“Perfect.” He flips the pancake onto a plate, adds butter and syrup, and slides it to Ellie.

“Yummy,” she coos as she picks up a fork and digs in. I pour the eggs into a warm cast iron skillet. I turn to make sure Ellie is eating.

“These are terrific, Jake. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he says as he loads another pancake to cook.

“Blueberries, not chocolate chips, eh?” I tease.

“We can’t have her doing a face plant in class.”

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