Scoring With Santa: Book One in the Second Chance Series

by Theresa Roemer

  “Planning on it, but I have to check with the boss.” He meant his sweet and very pregnant wife, Amy. “She gets a little more possessive during football season. You know—it’s a lot of time away from home.” Phil also taught science at Houston High.

  “Of course, no pressure. Tell Amy I said hi,” he said.

  “Will do. See you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks for organizing this.”

  “No problem. ’Night.”

  Rick hit the end button on his phone and opened the file folder, leafing through the stapled registration packets. They included the boys’ permission slips, emergency contact information and proof of a doctor’s physical. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular—just names he recognized, like younger brothers of boys already on the team. He shuffled through the papers and stopped when a name caught his eye.

  Brandy Love.

  His Brandy Love? Well, not his, but yeah, he sure as hell had been thinking about her non-stop since they’d met a few days ago. He’d been dying to make her his. But this changed things. He scanned the paperwork. She had a kid? Yep. Sam Anderson.

  For one horrible moment, he nearly choked. Was she married? Was that why she blew him off? But no... there hadn’t been a ring. Did that mean she was divorced?

  He checked the parent contact information. Yes, separate addresses for the two parents. But it really came as no relief. He didn’t date single moms.

  Ever.

  It was one of his personal rules.

  He’d grown up with an absentee father and a parade of his mom’s boyfriends tromping through his life. Just when he’d get attached to one, it would be over. Seriously, the only stable male force he’d had in his life had been his high school football coach. It was probably why he’d poured every ounce of his energy into football, had worked so hard to become the very best and succeed. All for Coach Dinsmore. Or perhaps to prove something to his father, who’d never cared enough to take an active role in his life.

  Yeah, when he’d become quarterback for the Houston Texans, his father had flown out from Florida and suddenly tried to reclaim him as his son. He’d realized that in some way, his high school self had wanted that, had worked hard exactly for that scenario. Of course when it finally happened, he’d been utterly disgusted.

  He read and re-read Sam Anderson’s registration form, as if it might change things. But no, Brandy was Sam’s mom, and that meant she was off-limits.

  Too bad, because he already had a hundred fantasies running around his brain that involved her naked and showing off how flexible she was…

  Chapter Four

  “Who was that?” Jennie demanded as she watched Brandy’s new colleague Adam Languard’s jean-clad ass disappear through Phenomenal Physique’s glass doors.

  Brandy smiled. “Not bad looking, is he?”

  “Please tell me he’s a new hire.”

  “He is, sort of. A sub-contractor. He’s going to bring Crossfit into Phenomenal Physiques.”

  “Yes!” Jennie gave a fist punch in the air.

  “Oh, it gets even better. He says his twin brother is a firefighter and we should expect the entire squad up here working out.”

  Jennie rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I’ve died and gone to heaven. When does he start?”

  “Not until after the new year. We’re going to convert Studio D into the Crossfit studio and I need to bring in some new equipment. Not much, though. That’s the beauty of Crossfit.”

  “Happy new year to me. I can’t wait.” She reached for one of the brownies piled high on a plate. “Did you try these nutty ones?”

  Jennie had organized a Christmas cookie exchange with all the employees, so they were all high on sugar after sampling so many.

  “No, but I can’t try any more. I’ll bring them home for the kids.”

  Jennie looked toward the doors again. “Ooh, speaking of not bad looking…here comes another one.”

  It would be impossible not to notice Rick Morehouse walk into the gym. Even if he wasn’t famous, the 6’5” quarterback with broad shoulders looked like he stepped out of a gladiator movie.

  She wouldn’t mind him tossing her over his shoulder to carry off as a war prize.

  He strolled right up to the front desk with his student in tow and leaned his forearms on the counter. “Hullo, Ms. Love.”

  So. Damn. Charming. And probably so full of himself.

  “Brandy,” she corrected him. She planned to act professionally with him today, but her body had another idea. She had to wipe off the flirty smile that had involuntarily stretched across her face. She didn’t even realize at first that she’d matched his pose, leaning on her forearms to meet him across the counter.

  Without taking his green eyes off her, he slid a piece of paper across the counter in her direction. “Here’s the liability waiver, signed by Donnie’s mom. Are we clear to work out?”

  Somehow his tone both implied she’d been silly to insist on the paperwork, and also that he’d been naughty not to bring it in the first place. Or she was imagining way too much about this interaction? Whatever the innuendos were, they had her pussy on notice, tingling, hoping that more than a little casual flirting would be going on.

  Which it wouldn’t.

  She pulled on her all-business panties. “I set you up with a full membership, so you’re in our system now and welcome to work out here any time.” It had been a professional decision, really. Having Rick Morehouse working out in her club only raised the visibility and status of her place. He would definitely be good PR. It may have been a professional decision, but warmth crept up her cheeks as if she was still in high school and hoped the homecoming king would ask her on a date. Another one, since she’d dissed him the first time.

  Ah, hell. She pulled back, not wanting Rick to get a bigger head. Of course, he was used to women blushing and throwing themselves at him.

  His eyes dropped to her bustline as she moved and she realized she’d given him quite the cleavage shot. Well, the twins were looking particularly perky today, if she did say so herself. Not bad for a middle-aged mother who’d breastfed two children.

  She made a point of ignoring his leer and peering around him. “Hi, Donnie.”

  The lanky youth smiled. “Hello Ms. Love.”

  Taking the hint, Rick stood back from the counter and sauntered into the studio with his student trailing behind him.

  She exhaled, part relief at him walking away, part disappointment. Jesus, that man was full of himself. Someone should take him down a peg or two.

  He dropped a hand on to Donnie’s shoulder, leaning his head toward the kid, who was almost as tall as him. She couldn’t hear the words, but it seemed apparent they shared a camaraderie or closeness. It made her smile. As she worked the front desk, she kept an eye on them, watching Rick run the boy through a series of exercises. She wasn’t a football coach, but as a personal trainer, she approved of the workout he’d designed. She also liked the way both their faces broke into smiles frequently. As much as she wanted to reject Rick’s charm, she had to admit he seemed like a nice enough guy.

  In addition to a ladies’ man. Which was why she would be taking his bait.

  But she really hoped her son got onto his team. If he did, Sam would attend Houston High, for the sole purpose of playing football for Morehouse. If not, he’d go to Houston Prep Academy, the fancy private school her husband had picked out for him. It had taken a lot of arguing and cajoling just to get Justin to agree to this part, and it had only been because Sam had asked and not her that Justin had finally agreed.

  Sam hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, but neither she nor his father were small, so she had no doubt by high school, he’d make a great player. In the meantime, he was a fast runner and quick at catching the ball. He’d played all three years of middle school and really loved the game. It was the one thing he was enthusiastic about, and she wanted to encourage it.

  It wasn’t that Sam was a bad student, but he didn’t love schoolwo
rk and it seemed like the more his father pushed him to improve his grades and prepare for college, the more he rebelled. It was like Justin wanted Sam to measure up to his school successes, and the more he talked about it, the more defensive Sam became. She hoped football would give him a reason to work hard. A coach like Morehouse could help him succeed, possibly even improve his grades.

  Rick put the youth on the cycle and looked over at her.

  Damn. Had he caught her watching? She started to turn away, but he’d already flashed her a grin and was walking over.

  Oh stop—did her heart really have to pick up speed? She put on her most professional mask.

  “Did I see your name on some paperwork for my football clinic this week?”

  The mask dropped away and she brightened. “Yes. My son Sam will be participating.”

  Another toothpaste commercial worthy smile. “Well, I wanted to tell you he’ll be in good hands.”

  “I’m sure he will.” She willed herself not to beam back at him.

  “Also, I just wanted to mention that I don’t play politics, so if your son gets on the team, it will be on his merits alone.”

  Her eyes narrowed. What was he insinuating? That she was trying to buy her son’s way onto the team?

  As if he sensed he’d offended her, he winked and rushed on. “I tell all the parents that, to head them off before they start dropping off expensive gifts or home-baked muffins.”

  “Right. I’ll cancel the massage I’d scheduled for you at 7:00, then.” She made a show of looking at her watch. Immediately, she wished she’d picked something other than a massage, because the image of him lying naked on the massage table, and her oiled hands running all over his skin flashed in front of her eyes.

  Please don’t let him be imagining the same thing. Great, now he would assume she was offering sexual favors for her son’s position on the team!

  He just laughed, though, and looked back over at Donnie, whose head was bent as he rode the bike. “I’d better get back, I just wanted to tell you I’m looking forward to meeting your son.”

  It didn’t seem like a come-on. But Rick Morehouse was very skilled at what he did. She just wasn’t sure what all that charm meant.

  * * *

  Rick sent Donnie home and slipped into the empty studio where Brandy had been teaching the last time he was there. He pulled out the Bluetooth headset he’d picked up and set the receiver to scan for it.

  “What are you doing?” The authoritative snap of Brandy’s voice brought his head up. Her hands were on her hips and her brows drawn together.

  He’d never really understood the “you’re sexy when you’re mad” notion until this moment. Brandy looked hotter than hell standing there with one hip cocked, her long blond ponytail hanging over one shoulder. Although you’d never guess it from the women he dated, he liked a strong woman, the kind who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to get it. And the kind who was willing to defend her turf.

  He straightened and grinned. “Stealing your headset. I saw it was working so well last time…”

  Her expression clouded and she walked over. She wore sneakers, but he had a flash fantasy of her dressed to the nines in high heels and a pencil skirt. She was the kind of statuesque woman who could make men fall to their knees before her.

  Her brows shot up and she reached for the new headset he held in his hand. “Where did this come from?” Confusion flitted across her face as she lifted her pale baby blues to meet his.

  He shrugged. “Try it out. See if it works.”

  “Did you buy me a new headset?” She sounded incredulous.

  “Yeah. I believe it’s working now.” He reached over and hit the on button, brushing her arm as he did. His skin tingled from the contact and the memory of her fingernails scraping along his lower back came flooding back, sending a surge of lust kicking through him.

  “Are you serious? You bought me a new one? Why?”

  He looked down at her in amusement. “Just wanted to return a favor. You’re helping Donnie out... and all the underprivileged kids at the Fostering Christmas event. It’s the least I can do.”

  Her mouth opened and closed and then, unaccountably, her beautiful eyes filled with tears.

  His smile faded. “Hey…” The ice princess wasn’t so tough afterall.

  She blinked and looked away. When her gaze returned, her blue eyes had narrowed. “I’m still not going to date you.”

  Ouch. What the hell?

  Her gaze faltered and pain flashed across her expression again. She shook her head, as if trying to clear it. “I mean—is that why you did this? Because my answer is still no.”

  His lip curled in annoyance. “Actually, I don’t date the parents of kids I coach, so that is off the table.”

  She paled slightly. “Oh... of course. I’m sorry. I was rude. It’s just that... no one—” she blinked rapidly. “I just don’t understand your motivation.” A few students filtered in and she glanced at them in distraction.

  He shrugged. “My motivation was in being nice. You might try it some time.”

  Okay, that was harsh. She probably didn’t deserve it. Based on the way she recoiled, he guessed his words had struck hard.

  A few more of her students filtered in and she looked over and greeted them by name, turning her back on him.

  Yep, that was his cue. He grabbed his bag and headed out, wondering why the hell he had even tried.

  * * *

  Brandy tapped on the door to her parents’ house and pushed it open, letting herself in. “Hi Mom, hi Dad!” she called. She’d picked up takeout from Chipotle for them and she carried it into the kitchen.

  “Shh,” her mom said, meeting her there and taking one of the bags to unload. “Your father’s still sleeping. He needs his afternoon naps.”

  Her father had had a stroke two years ago. It damaged his right side, so he used a walker now, because his foot dragged. He also hadn’t fully regained his speech. Before the stroke, it was colon cancer, which he had kicked. The guy would live to be one hundred, if her mom had anything to do with it.

  Taking care of her dad was her mom’s full time project. It always had been. Her mom had devoted her entire married life to doting on her dad. Not that her dad wasn’t worth it. He was a great guy. He’d been a high school principal. Her mom had been the stay-at-home Susie Homemaker. The kind of wife Justin had wanted. The kind of wife he assumed he was getting. He’d probably figured he’d scored a homerun the day he met her parents—June and Ward Cleaver.

  Brandy had fallen into the role easily because it had been familiar. She “got” the 1950’s wife thing. But when the kids had gone to school and she sat at home wondering why she couldn’t care about making the perfect soufflé, she knew something had to give. She wasn’t her mother. She didn’t want to be her.

  She was just way more selfish, she supposed. She wanted her own life, separate from her husband’s. She wanted to follow her own pursuits. And when Justin dug his heels in, the sensation of being trapped inside her mother’s life overwhelmed her. She’d known she had to get out, at all costs. What her mom had loved, she’d come to despise.

  Brandy always wondered what her mom might have done with her life, if she’d taken up a career. She was smart, incredibly capable, and good with people. She could’ve done or been anything. Even in a time when women’s careers were limited to becoming a teacher or secretary. That doesn’t mean Brandy didn’t think her life had been well-spent. She’d had a wonderful childhood thanks to a stay-at-home parent. But her mother’s shining example had only made her own stay-at-home years seem lacking in comparison.

  At the moment, her mother was rattling non-stop about her father’s food regimen. “... so I’ve been adding flax meal to his oatmeal in the morning, he seems to like that.”

  Yeah, right. She seriously doubted her dad liked flax meal in his oatmeal. But he would go along with anything her mother decided was best for him.

  “Boo.” The slurred sound
of her father’s weakened voice calling her pet name sounded from the hall. He moved slowly, pushing the walker.

  Her eyes burned. He used to call out “Brandy-Boo, where are you?” when he got home from work when she was a kid. Now he had to work so hard just to sound out the single syllable.

  She smiled and rushed down the hall to meet him. “Hi, Daddy.” She kissed his cheek as his face crinkled into a smile. It was odd to have to bend over to meet his face, when he’d always been taller than she.

  Her mother had also hurried forward, and she hovered nearby, ready to help him into his easy chair in the living room.

  “Guess who has been coming to my gym?” she asked her father when he settled in his chair and her mom had brought him a glass of water with a straw.

  “Wwho?” He took the time to round his lips, blowing extra breath across them to enunciate the word. Her mom had him working on a speech app on their iPad every day.

  “Rick Morehouse.”

  His face lit up. He’d been a fan of Rick’s when he played for the Texans, and now he followed Houston High’s successes with enthusiasm. As a man who had made a career out of teaching in the public schools, he’d been delighted by Rick’s choice to coach high school rather than college ball somewhere. “It shows his heart is in the right place. He could’ve picked money, but he chose the kids,” he used to say.

  “He made enough money,” her mother would always interject.

  The point was, Rick Morehouse had long been a topic of conversation in her parents’ house.

  Her dad flapped his good hand in the air, encouraging her to go on.

  “He’s helping one of his students rehab and he picked my place. Probably because I invited him to play Santa at the Fostering Christmas gift drive.”

  Her dad continued to smile broadly. He waved his hand some more, his brow furrowing. He made this face before speaking, as if he had to search his brain for the word, first. “Sam?”