Lucky In Love (Silver Bay Book 3)

by Amelia Judd

  “Yep. I remember. We’re on a soccer date.”

  “No. Not a date. Just a meeting to talk about soccer. Besides, there’s no such thing as a soccer date.”

  “Sure, there is,” he countered with enthusiasm. “It’s what we’re doing right now. Going on a date to discuss soccer.”

  Claire opened her mouth to respond at the same moment a college-aged waiter stopped at their table.

  “Can I bring you something to drink?”

  “I’ll have a water,” Claire announced in a voice loud enough to address the entire bar. “I’m not going to have any alcohol because my son’s coach and I are only here to discuss soccer.”

  The waiter eyed her in confusion. “Ohhh-kaaay.” He turned to Ethan. “How about you?”

  “I’ll stick with beer.” He looked at Claire. “It’s the perfect drink for a soccer date.”

  She gave her head a slight exasperated shake. When the waiter left to get their drinks, she added, “You’re trouble.”

  He responded with his most charming smile. “Yeah. But I’m worth it.”

  She tipped her head to study him with her beautiful blue, green, and gold-flecked eyes. The position exposed an expanse of pale skin along her neck that begged to be licked, kissed, and nipped. Could she taste as sweet as she looked? He swallowed hard. Damn, he wasn’t sure anyone could taste that good.

  “That’s what I hear,” she said, looking amused. “You’re the talk of the town. Is Silver Bay’s unending supply of adoring fans the reason you moved back here instead of staying in Chicago? As far as amenities go, it’s hard for us to compete with what a big city can offer.”

  “I don’t know about that. From where I sit, you”—he emphasized the word—“have a lot to offer a guy.”

  “Good point. Silver Bay”—she mimicked his emphasis—“is no longer all about fishing and lumber.”

  “That’s right. Bennett Industries started as a lumber mill.”

  “Yeah. When my father took over the business from my grandfather, he began transitioning to cabinets. He knew profits would soar by moving from selling a commodity to selling a finished product. We’re now adding a furniture line.”

  “Smart man.”

  “He’s done well.”

  “Do you work with him?” Ethan asked.

  “Yeah. I take care of whatever Dad needs me to handle on any given day.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “Surprisingly, it is. After college, he offered me the position until I found something I liked better.” She shrugged. “Turns out, I really enjoy my job, and I’m pretty good at it.”

  When their waiter returned with their drinks, Claire ordered a bowl of soup and a salad for her dinner. Ethan added a steak sandwich to the order and bided his time until they were alone.

  “I haven’t met Ty’s dad yet. Does he come to any of his son’s games?” Bringing up an ex-husband was the equivalent of playing soccer in a torrential downpour—no matter how careful he tried to be, odds were good he’d slip and fall on his ass at some point.

  The corners of her full mouth turned down. “Jack travels for work, so he only makes it to a few games per season.”

  “What’s he do?”

  “He sells drugs.”

  Ethan blinked. “Not going to lie.” He shook his head slowly from side to side. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

  She grinned. “To be fair, the drugs are legal. He’s a pharmaceutical sales rep. Which means he spends his time pitching the benefits of his drugs to doctors.”

  “Ahhh.” Ethan leaned back in the booth. “That makes more sense. I can’t see you with a drug dealer.” He squinted his eyes, feigning contemplation. “Although, I did mistake you for a hooker when we met.”

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “I only thought it for a little bit.” He held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Then I realized you were only interested in procuring services, not offering ’em.”

  Claire’s mouth dropped open and her beautiful eyes went wide. Then she dropped her head back and laughed—a full, rich, sexy-as-hell laugh that kicked off a rush of desire.

  His gaze dropped to the curve of her exposed neck, and then—while her head was still tipped to the ceiling—he snuck a look at the rounded swell of her breasts wrapped snuggly in the silky-looking fabric of her top. Damn, she had great breasts. They looked high and firm and big enough to fill his hands if he held them.

  No, scratch that. Not if he held them—when he held them.

  He tore his gaze from her chest as she lowered her head to look at him again. The instant her warm, inviting laugh tapered off, he wanted to hear it again. He wanted to make her happy—very happy. A vivid picture flashed through his mind: her wrapped around his body, half undressed and laughing as they stumbled through a bedroom doorway together.

  He went hard.

  Shit. Ethan gritted his teeth. He felt like a frigging teenager, getting aroused over a throaty laugh, completely covered breasts, and his own vivid imagination.

  “Sorry.” She wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye and took two deep breaths, obviously fighting to suppress more laughter. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. The closest I’ve ever come to being mistaken for a lady of the night was the time Kat told me my new heels were F-me shoes.” She wet her lower lip. “They’ve been buried in the back of my closet ever since.”

  “Sounds like you need a second opinion.” He gave her a wolfish look. “How about you wear them on our next date, and I’ll let you know what they say to me?”

  “Sorry, Lucky, there will be no more dates, soccer or otherwise.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Have you already hired my replacement?”

  She cleared her throat and glanced out the window before answering. “The position is proving harder to fill than I originally anticipated.”

  “My offer still stands,” he said, attempting to appear both friendly and harmless.

  He must have overdone the innocent bit because she narrowed her eyes, looking skeptical. “Why?” she eventually asked. “Why are you willing to do this? It’s not for the money. Obviously.”

  “You—”

  “No.” Claire held up her hand to interrupt. “We barely know each other. I don’t buy that you’d do this simply to help out a person you’ve just met. And no BS reason—like my charming personality has inspired you to play the role of Good Samaritan.” She leaned forward, all business now. “What is your reason for helping me? What would you get out of this?”

  He pondered how best to answer. Would admitting he wanted her in his bed help or hurt his chances of getting her there? While he had no intention of deceiving her, he didn’t want to scare her off by bringing up sex on their sort of first date.

  “I enjoy spending time with you.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I’d like to do it more.” Ethan leaned back and stretched one arm along the top of the booth, pleased with his diplomatic response.

  Claire’s eyes shifted to his bicep. A beat later, she dropped her gaze, licked her lips, and fidgeted in her seat. Satisfaction uncurled through him. She had more tells than a team of rookie players in their first shootout. Her body language couldn’t be clearer. She wanted him too.

  Time to press his advantage.

  “Think about it, Claire. I’m your way out of the auction. And I’ll even do it for free.”

  Looking even more skeptical, she toyed with the heart-shaped pendant on her necklace and scrutinized him with her penetrating eyes. “I have to pay someone, or it won’t be a business deal.”

  “You can donate my two-grand salary to the charity. Everyone wins.”

  She turned her head from side-to-side, clearly suspicious. “Why would a man who has his pick of women work so hard to spend time with one?”

  He held up his hands in an I’ve-got-no-tricks-up-my-sleeve gesture. “Everything I’ve told you is true.”

  “I’m more interested in everything you’re not telling me. With you, th
ose seem to be the most interesting details.”

  “It’s our first date—”

  “Soccer meeting,” she interrupted.

  “It’s our first soccer date,” he corrected. “You can’t expect me to give up all my secrets. Just think about it,” he added quickly before she could correct him again. “I’m happy to help.”

  Claire studied him a moment longer, then dipped her head in acceptance. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  The progress—albeit slow—pleased him.

  Their dinners arrived, and Claire placed her napkin in her lap. “Now tell me … ” She sat forward in the booth, her expression all business. “What did you want to discuss about Ty’s soccer training?”

  Ethan found himself wanting her to approve of his proposed training for her son. He liked Claire. Being with her was the perfect mix of sexual awareness and playful banter. It felt natural. It felt right. And it would suck if she thought his suggestion was shit.

  “I see a lot of potential in Ty. I know of an additional training opportunity he could benefit from.”

  “Fill me in.”

  “I think Ty should try out for ODP, the Olympic Development Program.” He eyed her for a reaction, but her expression remained neutral. “Making the team would give him a chance to train with more advanced, dedicated players than he can play with here. I think it could be a great stepping-stone for him.”

  “Do you know the details of the program?” she asked, sounding like the businesswoman he knew her to be.

  “He’d still play on his team here. This would be an additional commitment. It’s more expensive and would take a lot more hours out of your month than his local training.”

  As they ate, he went over costs and explained the approximate time commitment required to participate. Even though Claire paid close attention and jotted down notes, her expression remained neutral.

  Damn. Was a mom showing excitement or pride in her son’s soccer ability too much to ask?

  She slipped her notes into her purse. “Thanks for the info. It’s great to hear you think so much of Ty. I’ll talk to him and let you know his decision soon.”

  When the waiter returned to clear the table, Claire declined dessert and asked for the check. “We can split it,” she insisted.

  Ethan wasn’t splitting anything. While he waited to pay, her comment about Ty kept playing through his mind. In his experience, moms didn’t willingly let their kids make any significant decisions in life.

  “So, you plan to let Ty decide about the soccer training? I thought you’d want final say.”

  Claire shook her head. “He’s the one who’ll have to put in the extra hours and extra effort. It has to be his decision.” She took a sip of water and looked out the window. “For what it’s worth, I think it sounds like a good idea.”

  A feeling of warmth unspooled inside him. It wasn’t desire or even attraction. It felt more like … affection. For Claire. From what he could tell, she loved and supported her kids without condition.

  Yep. He’d known from the moment he’d met her that Claire Bennett epitomized class and grace.

  Roughly two seconds later, the epitome of class and grace sitting across from him let loose a string of swear words that would have made his rough-around-the-edges former coach take notice. She twisted her head sharply away from the window, looking as if she were desperately trying to hide her face from someone outside.

  “Problem?” he drawled.

  Before she could answer, he heard an enthusiastic knock on the glass. More than a little curious, he turned to see who wanted their attention.

  “Don’t look!” she hissed.

  “Too late.” Ethan was already studying the slightly mismatched couple staring at them through the window.

  The tall, brown-haired guy wore a confused, tight-lipped expression on his face. Ethan wasn’t sure if it was the gray around the dude’s temples or his pissy expression, but he looked at least ten years older than the short, bubbly, curvaceous, and unnaturally tan twenty-something brunette with him.

  “Yoo-hoo, Claire!” the girl shouted through the glass, waving enthusiastically. “Can you hear me?” She tilted her head in confusion. “Is this glass, like, soundproof?” she yelled, then started knocking again.

  “Sorry to say, pretending you don’t see her is only making her more frantic.” Ethan tried not to laugh. “Besides, once she realizes everybody else in the place is staring at her, she’s going to figure out the glass isn’t soundproof.”

  Claire whimpered a painful sound of resignation and slowly turned toward the window. She gave the girl a small wave and an unconvincing smile. “Hi, Gemma.”

  “OMG!” The bubbly brunette bounced up and down, clapping her hands. “I can’t believe you’re having dinner with Ethan DuBois!” One hand beside her mouth, as if she could actually share a secret screaming through the window of a restaurant, she whisper-yelled, “I think he’s gorgeous.” Then she dropped her hand and turned to look at Ethan. “I think you’re gorgeous!” She clapped her hands again. “Eee! Scoot over. We’re coming in to join you!” She grabbed the arm of the pissy-faced dude, who looked even pissier now, and started dragging him toward the entrance.

  Claire groaned and rubbed her fingertips in circles over her temples. She glanced in the opposite direction, as if considering escape.

  “Don’t even think about it. You can’t leave me alone with that heaping spoonful of crazy.”

  She blew out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll stay,” she said, her tone full of stoic resignation.

  “Friends of yours?” he asked, glancing over to see the couple step through Bayside’s front door.

  “Not quite,” she mumbled. “He’s my ex-husband, and Gemma’s the wife he always wanted.”

  Chapter 6

  IGNORING the flash of surprise on Ethan’s face, Claire braced herself for Gemma’s flamboyant arrival. Her back to the door, Claire could hear the younger woman’s high-pitched voice and the clack, clack, clack of her ever-present stiletto heels, which were closing in on them like two heat-seeking missiles.

  Three. Two. One.

  “Scoochy, scoochy,” Gemma singsonged, gesturing for Claire to move over so she could join her in the booth. “I’m so glad I saw you. I’ve been really, like really, wanting to talk to you.”

  Claire scooted over and Gemma sat down, her eyes lit with excitement.

  When Jack had first dumped Claire and married the younger, perky Gemma less than a year later, Claire had assumed she’d dislike the girl and that, in turn, the girl would forever dislike her. From day one, however, Gemma had treated Claire more like an older, wiser sister than the ex-wife of her new husband. The bizarro relationship made Claire uneasy. Either Gemma didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  “Sorry I haven’t replied to your texts, Gemma. I’ve been busy.”

  “No sweat. I know you’re super good at your job and the world’s best mom. I just really wanted to tell you our exciting news!”

  Claire forced a smile, not sure she wanted to know what had Gemma grinning ear to ear.

  “Eee!” Gemma squealed and clapped her hands in excitement. “We’re pregnant!”

  Claire jerked back in surprise, her gaze flying to Jack’s. He didn’t look as ecstatic as his wife, but he did look happy, proud even.

  A variety of emotions tumbled and twisted through her, and sadly, she couldn’t deny that disappointment was one of them. Not that Gemma and Jack were having a baby; she refused to turn into a bitter ex-wife who begrudged them their happiness. It was the depressing confirmation that her ex could make a marriage work that selfishly bummed her out.

  When Jack had filed for divorce, he’d made it painfully clear that she and their marriage had been a massive disappointment. He’d blamed the failure on her, saying she was too controlling and independent to be in any sort of lasting relationship. She’d always hoped he’d been wrong, attributing her failed marriage to their whirlwind romance, short engagement, and gap in age. But a
fter the divorce, Jack had remarried the even younger Gemma, and Claire hadn’t been on one single date that she actually enjoyed.

  Maybe Jack had gotten it right. Maybe she had been the problem.

  Shoving away her unease, Claire smiled widely. No matter what her issues, she’d never take it out on a baby or a pregnant woman. “That’s wonderful news. Congratulations.”

  Gemma shot a victorious look at Jack still standing next to the table. “I told you Claire would be great.” She wrinkled her nose in confusion at her husband. “Why are you still standing? Sit. Sit. Sit.” She motioned for Jack to sit next to Ethan.

  Ethan’s brows shot up, and Jack grimaced. Looked like neither guy wanted to cozy up on the narrow booth bench.

  Gemma grunted and rolled her eyes. “Boys are so silly.” Laughing, she jumped to her feet, yanked Claire out of the booth, and shoved her down on the other side next to Ethan. “Here, you two sit together. Jack and I will sit across for you.” In a flash of movement, she grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him into the booth with her. “OMG. Where are my manners?” She rolled her eyes again, then focused on Ethan. “I’m Gemma and this is Jack, and I know who you are, Ethan Dubois. I’m a really big fan!”

  “Thanks, Gemma. It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

  Gemma beamed. “How long have you two been going out?”

  “Oh, no.” Claire shook her head. “We aren’t together.” She elbowed Ethan. “Tell them we aren’t together.”

  “Whatever you say, Boss.” He dropped an arm around Claire’s shoulders and turned to Gemma. “We aren’t together,” he said in the least convincing performance of all time.

  “Why do you call her Boss?” Gemma asked, tilting her head in confusion.

  Claire’s stomach dropped. Hovering on the brink of mortification, she turned her head to meet his gaze, her eyes half pleading and half threatening to keep quiet about her earlier proposition.

  “It’s my pet name for her,” Ethan said.

  “She always was bossy,” Jack grumbled under his breath.