Emma yelled, “Nice pass, Harley.”
The girl glanced toward the bleachers, and even from a distance, Emma could see the blush. And the smile that accompanied it.
Emma leaned forward, watching Harley, as someone climbed the bleachers. Sat down beside her. The hairs at her nape lifted, and she didn’t have to look to know who it was.
“Hello, Emma.”
Her face flamed, and she couldn’t look at him. “Nathan. I didn’t expect you.”
“I said I would be here.”
She’d been hoping he wouldn’t be. But she knew his sense of responsibility wouldn’t let him skip it. “You’re a man of your word.”
“I try to be,” he said quietly.
Yeah, he’d kept to the letter of his word. Not the spirit, though. At least not with Harley.
He’d said he was responsible for Harley. Responsibility was a cold word. It was all about basic needs—food, clothing, shelter. It had nothing to do with the emotional turmoil of a grieving child.
She focused on the girls running up and down the field. “You know anything about soccer?”
“Yeah. Marco played.”
Good. She wouldn’t have to explain everything to him. Wouldn’t need to interact with him. “Harley’s a midfielder.”
Emma’s hands and feet had already turned to blocks of ice before Nathan sat down. Now the ice had spread to the rest of her body.
“Emma, I’m sorry.”
His voice was low enough that none of the other parents could hear, but she turned on him. “Not now, Nathan. Okay? I want to watch Harley.”
Harley should have Nathan’s attention, too, but experience had taught her that, where some parents were concerned, what kids needed and wanted was irrelevant.
“Fine. I can wait.”
The heat from Nathan’s body warmed her right side, but she slid farther away from him. She wasn’t going to get sucked in by his warmth. It wouldn’t last. Before long, he’d be just as cold as she was.
Over the next twenty minutes, Nathan proved that he did, indeed, know soccer. He cheered Harley’s good plays, even when they were subtle. The first time, Harley had whipped her head around. Froze for a moment when she spotted him. She turned away, but not before Emma saw her tiny smile.
Harley was glad Nathan was here. Emma hoped he didn’t end up breaking his daughter’s heart.
The game was scoreless one minute before the end of the first half when Harley dribbled toward the goal again. A different girl took her pass, dribbled a little more, then shot the ball back to Harley. While the goalie was adjusting, Harley kicked the ball into the net.
Emma leaped to her feet with the rest of the parents, cheering loudly. Nathan stood, too, clapping. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Way to go, Harley! Nice give-and-go.”
Harley gave a double high-five to the girl who’d passed her the ball. But Nathan’s words made her study him for a moment. Then the referee got both teams lined up for the kickoff.
Seconds later, the ref blew her whistle for the end of the half. The girls trotted toward the sidelines and both teams gathered around their coaches. Harley was a smart, funny kid who, in spite of her grief, was pretty self-confident. But right now she looked defenseless. Her socks were falling down her skinny legs, revealing the tops of her shin guards. Her too-large jersey swallowed her up. Her baggy red-and-white uniform shorts were rolled at the waistband.
What did Nathan see when he looked at his daughter? The mouthy kid, or the vulnerable one who needed her father?
The parents in the bleachers began to move. Most of them headed for the concession stand and the heaters mounted above it. The smokers pushed through the air-lock door to the outside.
In minutes, only three women, Nathan and Emma were left on their team’s bleachers. The women huddled close, murmuring together. Glancing toward the girls clustered around the coach.
Emma felt Nathan’s gaze on her. “I need to warm up. I’m going to stand by the heat lamps.”
Without waiting to see if he followed, she slid off the cold bench and walked toward the concession stand. The smell of popcorn and hot oil hung in the air, along with the acrid tang of burned coffee.
Heat from the overhead lamps beat down on her as she stood in line. Nathan stood behind her, but he didn’t say a word. By the time she reached the counter, her stomach was jumping. What was she supposed to say to Nathan?
“Hot chocolate, please,” she said to the clerk, a high school–aged boy with long brown hair and a desperate attempt at a beard.
“Make that two,” Nathan said beside her. As she fumbled in her purse for her wallet, he pushed a ten across the cracked Formica counter.
She should tell him it was her turn to pay. That he’d paid last time, at Oscar’s. But she didn’t want to bring up that afternoon. Stir memories of the sparks that had charged the air between them. So she merely said, “Thank you.”
Nathan waited for her to take her cup, then grabbed his and put his hand on the small of her back. Her muscles tensed and he let her go. But his hand hovered, inches from her skin, and herded her toward an empty corner.
She stood staring at the girls, still gathered around the coach. It wasn’t hard to spot Harley—her bright red hair was a beacon. Nathan hadn’t moved his hand, and it curved around her waist for a moment before falling away.
“Emma.” Nathan stepped in front of her. “Will you listen to me? Please?”
She put on her social worker mask—impassive, polite, attentive. “I’m always willing to listen.”
A flicker of irritation passed over his face, but he smoothed it away. “Look, I’m sorry about the way I acted on the phone this afternoon. It’s not an excuse, but I was having a bad day. I’d been arguing with the delivery guy, I couldn’t get hold of Patrick and my...” His jaw muscles clenched. “My leg hurt like a son of a bitch. I had PT this morning.”
From the way he’d struggled with the admission, she suspected Nathan didn’t admit to many people that his leg still hurt. And she’d invited him skiing. Remorse and embarrassment heated her face. “I shouldn’t have asked you to go skiing. That was insensitive of me. I apologize.”
“No. After I got my head on straight, I was glad you asked me. Glad you don’t see me as the guy who can’t walk very well. I realized I should be flattered.” He stepped into her personal space, and she swallowed. “But I had to say ‘I can’t do that,’ and it pissed me off. No guy likes to admit that.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she murmured. She finally focused on him and saw genuine remorse in his expression. “I wasn’t looking at it from your perspective.” The knot of embarrassment in her chest began to relax. “I had forgotten about the fragile male ego.”
“It’s a dangerous thing.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, then licked the fleck of whipped cream at the edge of his mouth. “Directly connected to the stupid center in the brain.”
Emma wasn’t as cold anymore. She edged a bit closer to Nathan. Because it was closer to the heater, she told herself. “Sitting on these metal benches can’t be good for your leg. I didn’t think about that, either.”
“I’ll survive.” He took another sip of the hot chocolate. “I’ll throw a blanket in the car for the next game. Sitting on that will help.”
Some of the tension in her shoulders eased. “You...you want to sit in this refrigerator again?”
“Of course I do.” He glanced over his shoulder to where the girls were now w
arming up for the second half. “She smiled when she saw me. I think she likes that I’m here.”
Emma did, too. “I was going to bring a blanket, too. But I forgot tonight.”
His eyes darkened. “Don’t bother. You can share mine.”
There were a million reasons why that was a bad idea, but she couldn’t remember any of them. As she held his gaze, she found herself swaying closer to him. Close enough to feel the warm air from his breath caress her cheek. Close enough to smell the hot chocolate he’d been drinking. Close enough to see his pupils dilate.
“Hey, Emma, they’re ready to kick off,” one of the mothers said as she walked past. Her curious gaze lingered on Nathan.
Emma backed away from him. “Ah, thanks, Judy. This...this is Nathan. Judy’s daughter is the goalie,” she explained to him.
“She does a good job,” Nathan said. “Great reflexes.”
“Thanks,” Judy said with a smile. “Harley’s one of our stars.”
“Yeah?” His gaze darted toward the girls, who were back on the field. “I had no idea.”
Judy hurried toward the stands, and Nathan put his hand on Emma’s back as they followed. This time, she didn’t shrug it off. When they reached the bleacher, Nathan’s hand curled around Emma’s to help her onto the cold bench. After she had taken the big step up, there was no reason to hold on to him. But she tightened her grip before leting go.
He slid in next to her. His thigh settled against hers, warm and solid. She wanted to move closer and press herself against him.
But she needed to concentrate on Harley and the game. Harley would want to talk about it later. And if Emma was touching Nathan from shoulder to ankle, she wouldn’t notice a thing on the field.
Emma let her arm rest against Nathan’s for a moment. Then she shifted to create some space between them. Her first responsibility was to Harley. Right now, she wished it wasn’t.
* * *
HARLEY STOOD AT the back of the girls clustered around their coach as he talked about what they’d done right in the game and what they’d done wrong. Same old, same old. Blah, blah, blah. She tried to look as if she were paying attention, but she was watching Emma and Nathan.
It still freaked her out that he was her father.
He caught her watching and waved.
A little buzz in her chest made her look away. He was an okay guy, but she was still mad at him for leaving her mom. For not taking care of her.
Emma was standing awfully close to him. Harley narrowed her gaze. Did they have something, like, going on?
Emma rubbed her hands over her arms. Maybe she was just trying to stay warm.
“See you next week,” the coach finally said, and Harley bent to pick up her bag and her jacket. “Nice game, guys.”
Harley headed over to the sideline with Melly, their goalie. They talked about one of the players on the other team who made dirty hits. She was a tool, they agreed.
Nathan was smiling at her as she ducked beneath the net surrounding the field, and she felt that funny tingle again. For a moment, she wanted to smile back, but then Emma stepped forward.
“You see my goal?” Harley asked.
“Of course I did. It was beautiful. Placed perfectly.”
Emma reached for her, then let her hand drop when Harley reared back. Jeez. Didn’t she know how uncool that was?
“You should lay off the hugs in public,” Nathan said to Emma. “Teenage girl’s biggest nightmare.”
Harley’s face flamed, but Nathan just kept grinning. “Am I right?”
“Hey...Nathan.” What was she supposed to call him, anyway? “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Emma mentioned you were playing,” he said, making it sound like a duh moment. “Of course I wanted to see the game.”
She frowned. “Don’t you, like, have to be at the restaurant all the time?”
“I hope I’m not that boring,” he said with a laugh, but his eyes looked sad. “We have a manager now. I don’t have to work every day of the week.”
“Cool.” Harley studied him for another few moments, then turned to Emma. “Can we go home? I’m starving.”
Nathan said, “You want to get something to eat together? A pizza, maybe?”
Harley’s eyes shifted from Emma to Nathan and back to Emma. She kind of did.
“That sounds great,” Emma said. “Where do you want to go?”
“Up to Harley,” Nathan said. “We were just freezing our a...butts off on those bleachers. She was actually doing some work.”
Harley rolled her eyes. “You think I haven’t heard the word ass before?”
“I’m sure you have,” he said. “I’m just trying to protect Emma’s innocent ears. She’s new to this teenage kid stuff.”
Harley’s forehead furrowed. “You have other kids?”
“Nope. You’re my first.” Even though she tried not to show it, his words sent a funny ping through her heart. “But I raised Frankie, Patrick and Marco after our parents died. Frankie was about your age. Marco was ten.”
She swung around to face him, walking backward. “Your mom and dad died, too?”
“Killed in a car crash.”
“Both of them? At the same time?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. That’s really sad.” Her mouth trembled.
“It’s awful,” he said quietly. “That’s why I know how hard this is for you. How sad you are. How much you miss your mom.”
His eyes met Harley’s and an acknowledgment of shared pain passed between them. Harley’s mouth quivered and she blinked furiously. Then she turned and shouldered her way through the air lock door. “Pizza sounds good.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AS THEY ATE, Nathan bit his lip to avoid smiling at Harley’s eager eyes and hearty appetite.
“How did you know about give-and-goes?” she asked him around a mouthful of artichoke and spinach pizza at Lenzoni’s.
“Marco played soccer. I spent a lot of time on the sidelines, watching him. Watched World Cup games with him, too. Learned more about soccer than I ever thought I would.”
“Not as much as Emma, I bet.” Harley reached for another slice, bringing back memories of his siblings eating like that. Him, too, before their lives changed forever.
Harley swallowed a much-too-large bite. “She played soccer in college.”
“Wow.” He glanced at Emma, grinned to see her blushing.
“It wasn’t that big a deal,” she muttered. “It was a small college. They’d take pretty much any warm body.”
“I doubt that,” Nathan said. He propped his chin on his fist and studied her. “Even at small colleges, you have to be pretty good to make the team.” He knew that because Marco had wanted to play in college. Until he’d decided to go to culinary school instead. “And I bet you were a...” He studied her, delighted at her discomfort. “You were a defender. Because that’s what you do now. You try to protect everyone.”
Emma shook her head, a tiny smile playing on her mouth. “You think you know so much about me, Mr. Psychoanalyst? I was a midfielder.”
“Just like me,” Harley said. She leaned across the table, bumped fists with Emma. “She gives me lots of tips. And she still plays. In an adult league.”
“Really?” His gaze drifted to his cane, then settled on Harley. “Do you go watch her play?”
“She won’t let me.” Harley took another bite of pizza. “Says it’s too late o
n a school night. My guess?” She pointed her slice at Emma. “She thinks she looks like a dork.”
“That is so not true.” Emma dropped her own piece of pizza and narrowed her eyes. “I’ll have you know that I...” She cleared her throat. Picked up her slice again. “My games start at nine. I don’t get home until eleven at the earliest. That’s too late for you.”
“Tell you what, Harley.” Nathan leaned toward his daughter. “Next time you don’t have school the next day, we’ll both go and watch Emma play. So we can judge her dorkiness for ourselves.”
“Yes.” She held up her hand, and he gave her a high five. “Let’s do it.”
“We will.” He glanced at Emma. Instead of the irritation he’d expected, she was smiling at him, her eyes misty.
* * *
TWO DAYS LATER, Nathan sat in the lodge at the Wilmot ski hill and watched Harley take a snowboarding lesson. She’d fallen a few times at first, but after an hour, she was pretty steady. She gained confidence each time the instructor took them down the bunny hill.
He’d suspected this trip would be boring and that he’d be uncomfortable sitting all day. But at the end of the soccer evening, he’d asked Harley and Emma if he could join them.
In spite of Emma’s initial embarrassment at the soccer game and his reluctance to be there, he’d enjoyed himself. He’d liked watching Harley play soccer. And he’d had fun at that pizza restaurant afterward. He’d been surprised by how much.
So here he was, sitting on an uncomfortable wooden bench at a long, picnic-style table, drinking bad coffee and watching Harley and Emma on their snowboards.
Instead of being on a snowboard himself.
His hand tightened on the grip of his cane. This whole cane thing, the limping, the weakness, was getting old. He wanted to be done with it, just as he wanted to be done with the investigation into the restaurant mess. He wanted his life back. All of his life. Which included stepping away from Mama’s, taking his trip and figuring out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.
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