Page 10 of Scoring with the Coach's Daughter

My childhood was as close to the picture-perfect life you read about in books. But in my opinion, mine was better. The kitchen is a controlled frenzy, but that’s how I like it. The clatter of pots and pans, and the hissing of pots boiling on the stove is my kind of music. And the simmering marinara sauce? That’s the melody to this vibrant song, and it’s the perfect addition to my day.

Maggie swings through the revolving door, startled to see me. She wipes her hands on her apron. “Well, well. Look who’s back,” she says, her tone teasing as she leans against the counter.

“Miss me already?” I reply, grabbing a notepad from behind the bar.

“Like a hole in the head,” she quips. “How was the big bash?”

I hesitate, and it’s all she needs to glean information that I’m not ready to share. My moment with Jake is one I’m holding close to my vest. It was a private moment. It was perfect, and it made my stomach flutter with an intensity that I’d never known.

Her eyes narrow, her smirk growing. “Uh-oh. That’s a look. Spill.”

“It’s nothing,” I brush her off hoping she’ll drop it.

“Uh-huh. Sure. “Nothing” doesn’t leave you looking like you’ve been thinking too hard about something—or someone.”

I shoot her a glare. “Maggie,” I whine.

“Fine, fine,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender. “But you know where to find me when you’re ready to give me the deets. This I have got to hear. I’ve waited years for you to get all starry-eyed over a man.”

I raise an eyebrow at her reference to a man.

“Why does a smile on my face equate to a man? Maybe I have gas.”

She chuckles. “You’re a grown-ass woman. You don’t have an excuse for that look in your eye—the look that’s just short of I’m in love, look. You know that far away, dazed look.”

Ellie makes herself at home as she shadows Maggie.

“For all you know, I bumped my head on the car door,” I deflect.

“Not a chance,” she replies, unfazed by my attempt at humor.

I shake my head in difference and duck into my office to escape further interrogation. But once I’m alone, Jake’s face sneaks into my thoughts again, and again. It’s unnerving. It was one kiss so why can’t I forget it?

Then, I remember his voice and how easy it was on my ears. His perfect lips teased me, and he made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years. The way he made Ellie laugh showed me how great he can be with kids.

The devil on my shoulder argues that anyone can fake it at a party. The proof of character is in the day-in and day-out drill of the everyday grind. The proof is in the pudding they say, and in this situation, I agree. But I’ll never hear from him so there’s no point in daydreaming over the gorgeous man with a body that rivals that of Adonis.

I sigh, dropping into my chair. I’ve got too much to focus on to let myself get distracted by...Jake. Especially when he’s so far away. Our lives would have never crossed paths if it weren’t for my father.

Besides, our worlds are so different. He’s a huge star and all that it implies. And me? My life is set exactly the way it needs to be. It’s logical, orderly—and predictable. Inever look over the counter here or in the inn and think maybe my future Mr. Wonderful is going to be staring back at me.

Nope. My romantic bed and breakfast is for honeymooners, lovers, and families. Bachelors don’t come to sleepy small towns looking for love.

My thoughts are interrupted by Ellie. “Aunt Sam!”

And a second later, she’s standing in the doorway, holding her sketchpad up like a trophy.

“Look what I made!” she says, practically bouncing.

I smile, taking the sketchpad from her. She’s drawn a lopsided sun and a few stick figures—one with long hair (me), one with dark long curly hair (her), and another tall figure holding a football.

My stomach flips. “Who’s this?” I ask, pointing to the third figure, even though I already know.

“Jake,” she says matter-of-factly like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I swallow hard. “You drew Jake?”

Ellie bobs her head emphatically before climbing into my lap. “He was nice. And he said I could throw a football like a real player.”

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