by Amelia Judd
“Claire runs the place,” Ethan offered with pride.
“I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be.” She shrugged. “None of my siblings wanted the job.”
“She’s being modest.” Ethan stepped closer and took her free hand in his. Holding her gaze, he raised their joined hands and brushed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Claire’s a natural leader.”
“Beautiful, smart, and rich,” Dasher mused. “I’m starting to understand why you’re refusing to return. But you still have a few great years left in you, DuBois. I hope you don’t regret sitting on the sidelines when you could’ve been centerfield, leading your teammates to a championship.”
Ethan felt Claire tense beside him. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, knowing it was time to end this argument before Dasher planted any more doubt in her mind. “I gave you a lot of great years,” he said, finality in his tone. “Hell, I may have given you my best years. It’s time we both move on.”
“Shit,” Dasher groaned. “Now you really do sound like my ex-wife.” He walked to the bar and grabbed a beer from the ice bucket. “Bunch of divas,” he mumbled, taking a swig.
Chuckling, Ethan walked with Claire to the glass door dividing the suite from the box seats. He slid the door open, slung an arm across her shoulders, and pulled her to his side as they stood watching the game below. God, she felt great settled against him—warm and soft and so damn feminine it made his gut ache.
“You’re on TV!” Grace screamed in excitement, pointing to the giant jumbotron at the end of the field.
Ethan flashed a smile and waved at the camera pointed at them. The crowd cheered in response and began chanting his last name, a tradition that had started his first game at the stadium and been repeated after every goal he ever scored there.
He felt Claire laughing beside him. “What did I get myself into with you, DuBois?”
He grinned down at her. “Getting us on the jumbotron deserves a bonus, don’t you think?”
Claire licked her lower lip and visibly swallowed. “Sounds fair. Did you have anything in mind?” she asked in a throaty whisper.
“A few things, actually,” he murmured, leaning forward and brushing his lips across hers in a soft, playful kiss. When the crowd roared in approval, Claire giggled against his lips.
“Sorry,” she said, fighting back laughter and dropping her head to his shoulder. “Kissing on the jumbotron is a new experience for me.”
“How was it?”
“Unexpected. And honestly?” She tipped her head back to grin at him. “A little exhilarating.”
“Kinda like me,” he teased.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Lucky,” she sighed. “You’re a whole lot of exhilarating.”
Ethan dropped a kiss on top of her head, his blood humming with pleasure. Aside from Dasher’s bellyaching, today couldn’t have gone any better. He’d had a great time reaching his goal of maximum enjoyment for the kids.
It surprised him to realize how much he enjoyed being a part of the team Claire had built with her kids. And the more time he spent with the three of them, the more he realized he didn’t want to be cut from their team anytime soon. Problem was, Claire had been right when they talked in her office. Never being one for sitting around, he’d started planning for the next stage of his life the moment he’d retired at the end of last season. And his plans involved staying in Silver Bay only long enough to make amends with his mom.
The time he spent with Claire and her kids made him question those plans. It sounded too damn cheesy to admit out loud, but it felt like being with them filled something inside him that he’d never realized was empty. Besides, did he really want to walk away from the rare woman who didn’t see his fame and fortune as his most appealing quality?
The more he learned about her, the more he understood what a great fit they were. He’d always been a classic striker, on and off the field—charging, attacking, always moving forward and thinking about the future. Claire was a natural defender—containing risks, fixing problems, and remembering past mistakes to avoid making them again.
If he wanted a real chance with her, he needed to convince Claire they were right for each other. The way he figured it, he had from now until the bachelorette auction to get the job done. And while he wouldn’t use romance to get laid, he had no problem using it to show Claire he could make her as happy as she made him.
So what if he’d never had to romance a woman before solely to convince her to go out with him on a non-pretend basis? He didn’t mind hard work. Soccer had taught him a long time ago that the toughest goals to make were always the most rewarding.
Chapter 11
“NO flips!” Claire yelled to her kiddos as she sat with Hannah in her sunroom, watching Ty and Grace playing on the backyard trampoline.
It was Saturday afternoon, two weeks since their trip to Chicago, and Ethan was due to pick her up for their official weekend date in an hour. Not that they only saw each other on official dates.
The Monday after their trip to Chicago, Ethan had stopped by her office with flowers and a caffè mocha, her favorite drink from Hannah’s coffee shop. The sweet gesture prompted her to invite him to dinner at her house that night. On Tuesday morning, he’d surprised her with chocolates and another caffè mocha and had invited her and the kids to dinner at his house as a thank you for Monday night’s dinner.
The pattern had continued since then. He’d drop by her office with a treat or to go to lunch with her during the day, and they’d hang out with the kids in the evenings and over the weekend. They ate dinners together, watched movies, hiked, talked, laughed, boated, and played hours of card games, board games and Xbox. Over the past two weeks, her family of three had slipped so easily into being a family of four that Claire couldn’t quite remember how they spent their time before Ethan was around.
But tonight was different. Tonight they’d be going out alone. Hannah, her babysitter for the evening, had arrived early for some sister-chat time before Claire headed out. They’d just finished talking about their brother Pax’s upcoming wedding in Costa Rica when Claire’s phone pinged with an incoming text.
“Say what now?” she mumbled, looking at her phone.
“What’s up?” Hannah asked. “Last time I saw you look that surprised Kat had just labeled your new heels F-me shoes.”
“I don’t believe it.” Claire gawked at her sister. “Ethan texted that he wants to take me for a ride along the beach tonight and that I should wear a tight outfit.” She shook her head. “I must have misunderstood. He’s a guy, but he’s not a jerk. And they weren’t F-me shoes,” she snapped, yanking her phone closer to re-read his text.
“Yep. Clear as day. Skin-tight outfit was the main point of his text.” She rubbed at the tension building in her temples with her fingertips. “Not sure how to respond to that.”
“Kat would give him the middle-finger emoji,” Hannah supplied in a helpful tone.
“And that would work for her. But I’m a little more … ” Claire watched Ty step to the side on the trampoline to clear space for Grace who had a very determined expression on her cute little face. Oh no. Claire knew that look. She stepped forward and raised her voice. “No flips,” she reminded both kids through the open window in her authoritative, don’t-even-try-to-argue-with-me mom voice. She turned back to Hannah. “I’m a little more, you know, mother-y,” she finished. “The middle-finger emoji doesn’t really suit me.”
“Hmmm. How about the thinky-face one?” Hannah suggested.
“That would mean I’m considering it.”
“Maybe you should.”
Claire narrowed her eyes in a scowl. She liked Ethan. She really did. Didn’t mean she planned to become his dress-up doll.
“Fine.” Hannah raised her hands in surrender. “What are you going to do?”
She thought it over for a beat. “I’m going to send a mature, eloquent response expressing my decision to decline his suggestion.”
; “Thumbs-down emoji?” Hannah asked.
“Yep,” Claire said, shooting off the text.
“Maybe you should at least put on something less”—Hannah waved her hand in an encompassing circle at Claire’s sky-blue shift dress—“Sunday brunch-ish.”
“Nope. Jack always tried to tell me what to wear. I didn’t let him do it, and I’m not letting my pretend—” Claire bit her lips closed a second before she let her little secret slip. She cleared her throat. “My pretentious new boyfriend do it either.”
Hannah made a face. “Ethan’s not pretentious. From what I can tell, he’s really sweet and isn’t one of those guys who takes himself too seriously. You know,” she said, dropping her voice, “like Jack.”
True. Her ex epitomized pretension, while Ethan, a world-class athlete, never bragged or flaunted or even seemed to notice his utter awesomeness. Ugh. Now she felt crappy having called him pretentious, but it’d been the first word she could think of that started with “pretend.”
“You’re right,” she conceded. “He’s great. But I’m still not playing ‘slutty makeover party’ for him.”
When the doorbell rang an hour later, Claire sauntered to her front door wearing her dress, strappy sandals, and a no-way-am-I-changing-for-you expression. She swung the door open and went hands-on-hips, bracing herself for a fight.
Wearing trim-cut cargo shorts and a navy-blue T-shirt made of slightly stretchy-looking athletic material, Ethan grinned at her. “Evening,” he said as a way of greeting. He scanned his gaze down and then up her body—stopping briefly at the bare expanse of thigh below her dress and above her knees. His appraisal widened into a full-blown smile, kicking his dimples into action. “Are you sure you want to wear that dress? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a showstopper, but you might be more comfortable in something a little more … Well, it could be difficult to … you know …” He trailed off, making a vague motion toward her lower body with his hand.
“I’m good,” she repeated more firmly.
“Works for me.” Sounding way more pleased than she expected, Ethan shrugged a shoulder and looked around her. “Hey, Hannah. You the sitter?”
“Yep.”
“Great.” He beamed at her. “I picked up a movie on the way over for you guys. No worries if you don’t get around to watching it tonight. I’d told the kids about it at dinner a few nights ago, and they both said they’d like to see it, so I grabbed a copy in case you were looking for something to watch.”
“That’s so thoughtful,” Hannah said, looking at Claire with an I-told-you-he-wasn’t-pretentious head tilt. “What is it?”
“The Princess Bride.”
“Seriously?” Hannah went brows up. “I’m shocked you like that movie.”
“What can I say?” He winked. “I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”
Hannah took the movie from him. “Thanks. I haven’t seen this in years. It’ll be fun to watch with Ty and Grace.” She tapped it absentmindedly against her palm. “So, what’s on the docket for tonight’s date?”
“Didn’t Claire tell you?” He sounded surprised. “We’re going for a bike ride along the shore. I know she loves to cycle.”
Hannah shot her an amused, questioning look. “I guess she forgot to mention it.”
Claire’s mind raced through their previous conversations. He’d never said anything about a bike ride.
“I texted earlier and suggested she dress for a ride along the beach.”
Oh. Holy. Smokes. He’d meant a bike ride? Claire opened her mouth to confess her misunderstanding. She needed to change.
“Silly me,” Hannah interrupted, feigning forgetfulness. “Claire did tell me you guys were going for a ride. I suggested she put on something more appropriate”—as if sharing a secret, she shielded one side of her mouth and turned toward Ethan—“and a little less revealing. But she insisted on that dress.”
Scanning her bare legs again, Ethan threw up his hands in a playful show of surrender. “Who am I to argue?” He shrugged and looked toward the backyard. “Before we leave, I’m going to say hi to Ty and Grace. Back in a minute.”
Forcing a slightly manic smile past gritted teeth, Claire nodded her head up and down until Ethan cleared the room. “What the hell?” she turned to her nefarious sister.
“Couldn’t help it,” Hannah said, wiping away tears of silent, chest-shaking laughter. “The image of you trying to keep that dress down while you’re riding all over town was too funny to resist.”
Claire narrowed her eyes and pointed at Hannah. “Do you have any idea how hard it is going to be to ride a bike in this dress without flashing Ethan and everyone else in Silver Bay?”
“Yeah,” Hannah said on another bubble of laughter. “But you kinda deserved it. Ethan planned a romantic date for you and simply suggested you wear something that wouldn’t get caught in the bike’s chain, and you thought the worst of him.”
Claire crossed her arms. Though admittedly concerned about the feasibility of maneuvering her bike in the dress and maintaining a PG rating, she couldn’t deny jumping to conclusions about Ethan’s text. Guess she still had a few issues to work through from her past. “Fine,” she said on a heavy sigh. “I deserved it.”
“Don’t look so glum. If anyone can look refined and graceful biking in a short dress, it’s you, big sis.”
Claire snorted. “Refined and graceful is shooting a little high. If I don’t get arrested for indecent exposure, I’ll consider tonight a success.”
•••
Peddling along the flat bike path that hugged Lake Michigan’s shoreline, Claire tugged at her dress. They’d been riding for twenty minutes as the September sun sank low on the horizon and a slight breeze blew in from the lake. So far she’d managed to keep from flashing Ethan or anyone else enjoying the path. Fingers crossed her luck would hold.
She glanced over her shoulder and noted the growing distance between her bike and his. Sure, she biked multiple times a week and could maintain a good pace even while fighting her dress from turning into a sail, but she shouldn’t be pulling away from him this easily.
Why the heck did he keep slipping farther and farther behind?
“You doing okay back there?” Claire tossed the words over her shoulder.
“Yeah,” he grunted in a strained voice.
She slowed down until he reached her side. “Do you need to take a break? You look really sweaty.” Claire coasted beside him.
“Not much farther,” he panted. “Just need to make it around the bend.”
Five minutes later, Ethan pulled his bike to the side of the path, grabbed his water, and chugged half the bottle. Claire parked her bike next to his, smoothed out her dress, and studied him with growing confusion. He’d retired from professional soccer less than a year ago, and his lean, chiseled body looked strong, healthy, and capable of performing at maximum levels of exertion. So how come he was acting like he’d just finished a marathon rather than a casual bike ride?
She watched as he paced in circles, huffing and puffing, trying to get his heart rate under control. Something wasn’t adding up. She dropped her gaze to his bike. “Where’d you get your ride?”
“It’s an old one from high school.”
“Let me take a look.” She tucked her flyaway dress tight around her thighs and crouched next to the tired-looking bike to search for anything that seemed off. When she reached the back wheel, she realized that something wasn’t off—it was on. “Your break is stuck.”
Ethan crouched down, only inches from her side. She could feel the heat rising from his body and smell the scent of male skin slick with sweat. She imagined he’d smell the same after a vigorous love-making session … or two.
She cleared her throat. “Looks like you’ve been riding with your back break engaged.”
“Yeah, the son of a bitch locked up a few miles back.”
“Huh?” Her thoughts were still more on beds than bikes. God, even his sweat smelled good. Key body parts tighte
ned. She forced herself to focus. “Why didn’t you stop?”
Ethan turned to look at her. “If I stopped every time I hit a little resistance in life, I wouldn’t get anywhere.” He rose to his feet and offered her his hand and a devilish grin. “Come on. I have a surprise for you.”
Claire made a face and studied him for a heavy beat before taking his hand. “I hate surprises,” she admitted as he helped her to her feet.
“I bet you’ll like my surprises,” he teased, slinging an arm over her shoulder and leading her onto the beach.
“You mean like the time I found out you weren’t Deb’s cousin, or when I discovered you’re a famous soccer player instead of a slacker, or when I realized you’re younger than me and my son’s coach, or—”
“Those were misunderstandings. Surprises are much better,” he said, directing her down the beach toward a rocky outcrop near the water’s edge about fifty yards away.
She made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. They’d have to agree to disagree on that one.
Ethan chuckled, pulled her tighter to him, and dropped a kiss on top of her head. It felt good to be wrapped under his arm, enveloped by his heat and strength. She felt both sexy and safe—a nice combination as it turned out.
Claire drew in a deep breath of brisk autumn air. “Fall is my favorite time of year,” she said, hoping some small talk about the season would distract her from the feel of him pressed to her side.
“Mine too.”
“Really?” She smiled, pleased. “What do you like best? The color of the leaves? The chill in the air? The smell of fires burning and pumpkin bars baking?”
He gave her a sheepish look. “It’s the best time of year to play soccer. Winter is snowy, spring is wet, and summer is hot. Of course, I had to practice hours a day in all types of weather. But it’s always better to play in good conditions.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Choosing a favorite season shouldn’t be so pragmatic.”
“Reality taught me to be practical, even as a kid.”