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Logan
It’s nearly dinnertime when I call for today’s tryouts to end. We have two more days before I’ll sit down with my assistant coaches and decide who makes the cut. I honestly hate cutting any of these guys. Every single one of them has the desire to play. Unfortunately, they don’t all have the talent.
“Need any help, Coach?” Quinton Pierce, one of my varsity kids, asks as he picks up a bag of equipment and falls into step beside me.
His younger brother, Liam, is hot on his trail, grabbing a bucket of footballs. Quinton has the talent of the two. Liam has the heart. Problem is, heart doesn’t win football games. I need the talent.
“Campbell, get the rest of the stuff,” I say to my son when he emerges from the field house. “Do you boys need a ride home?” I ask Quinton and Liam after my truck is loaded.
“No, our aunt is here,” Quinton answers, and Liam points proudly over to a brunette sitting in her Jeep.
I’ll be damned.The woman from the diner is their aunt. Before I can question my sanity, I’m approaching her vehicle. She’s fiddling with something in the passenger seat, so when I rest my arms on her door, the gesture makes her jump.
“You didn’t accept my apology this morning.”
Her hazel eyes narrow, and when she looks at me like that, there’s something vaguely familiar about her. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“So, you stalk me at the high school football tryouts?”
I smile at her. “These are my tryouts.”
“And you’re standing at my vehicle.”
“Is it always this difficult to apologize to you?” I ask, and her cheeks tinge pink.
“Boys, load up!” she hollers, ignoring my question.
“Hey, Dad,” Campbell says, rushing up to her Jeep. “Quinton and Liam are going for pizza. Can we go, too?”
“You have got to be kidding me,” their aunt mumbles, and the other two boys start putting in for us to go join them. “Tell you what, kid, why don’t you hop in and you can go with us. I’ll drop you off with your dad when we’re done.”
“And what, eat all the pizza without me?” I tease as the three boys climb in. “I’ll meet the four of you there. Maybe then, you’ll let me apologize to you.”
“Doubtful,” she says with a smirk and pulls off, barely allowing me to move away from the vehicle before her tires roll over my damn toes.
I tell myself to steer clear of this one. I have already been tied down to a feisty woman with questionable issues, and this brunette clearly has issues. Yet, I get into my truck and follow them to Patsy’s Pizza Parlor. I even insist on paying, although I had no intention of eating out tonight.
“Can we sit at the counter?” Liam asks.
“As long as you don’t bother Mrs. Patsy,” his aunt replies. “I’ll be in the booth over there. Bring me some pizza when it’s ready.”
I wait with the boys, lingering at the counter until the pizza is finished. I can tell they rather I didn’t sit with them, so I put a few slices on a plate and carry it over to where the feisty brunette is.
I take a seat across from her, earning myself a stern stare. “They’re teenage boys. I’m not going to be a fourth wheel. Besides, they’ll just talk football and girls, and my son needs a little normalcy in his life.”
“Quinton will cover him on the girls. Liam, the football talk.”
Her eyes go a bit wide at her civil response to me, and I chuckle. “They seem like good boys. And since we haven’t been formally introduced, I’m Logan.”
“They are,” she replies and takes a slice of pizza from the plate.
“Your name?”
She gives this hint of a smile, almost mischievous, and replies, “Candy.”
“And are you part of the reason for that? The boys, I mean.”
She immediately shakes her head. “Lord, no. That’s all on their parents.”
“I didn’t see any parents at the field today. Just you.”
There go those eyes narrowing at me again. I thought I was making some headway, the boys being a safe subject to discuss, but clearly, I was wrong. What I thought would come across as flirty has instead come across as accusatory that those boys’ parents are neglectful.
“It would be difficult for their mother to be there, seeing as she’s dead,” she says. “And their dad is the chief of police, so he works a lot.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you. I apologize, Candy.”
“You’ve been saying you’re sorry quite a bit today. Tell you what, I’ll save you from having to do it again. I’ll wait outside for the boys.”
Before I have the chance to argue, she’s out of the booth, pizza in hand, and walking out. I slump back, trying to figure what in the hell I’ve done to piss this woman off.
