Mixed in with an abject shock was also a grand sense that what he’d done had pleased her.
Her green eyes, set a little too close to her nose, had lit up, but not the same as before. Rimmed with the darkest, longest lashes he’d ever seen, her eyes had shone like gentle beacons, guiding him somewhere he’d never been before. If he dove into their depths, what would he find? What would she?
Pushing his thoughts aside, he continued on Ocean Avenue, Bay Point’s version of Main Street. With its copper streetlamps, the blue-green patina reminiscent of the ocean, and the cracked, sand-dusted sidewalks, the little town had undeniable signs of stubborn longevity. He passed Bay Point Bed-and-Breakfast, his temporary lodging, owned by Maisie Barnell. She was a nice woman, if not a little nosy, who loved to carry on a conversation. For hours on end, it seemed. The sooner he found a more suitable place to live, the happier he’d be.
On his way to the antiques shop, he peeked into storefronts and caught a bit of shade now and again under their colorful cloth awnings. Many of the merchants were taking advantage of the weather to begin their holiday decorating. He dodged ladders draped with strings of lights and boxes of pine boughs and wreaths.
Sometimes he forgot to walk in the practiced manner that helped hide his slight limp, although the residual pain from his injuries was gone for the time being. His mind seemed stuck on Mariella, like a bolt stripped of its grooves, and though he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t wait to see her again.
He thought of how her cowl-necked ivory blouse, the fabric sheer enough to trick the eye, hinted at the fullness of her breasts. Tonight he’d be dreaming about the way her navy skirt clung to the curves of her torso, and wake up wishing he was kissing her head to toe.
But it was her smile that had struck him the most. It was worth the stress of shopping, an activity that he despised, made worse because it was a gift for his mother.
When he’d hinted to Mariella that he would recruit her for his team, her full mouth had drawn together in a lush bow of shock, but almost immediately after, the right corner of her lip had smarted, as if she was intrigued, though it could have been a nervous tic.
The silent respect she appeared to have toward him, and what was underneath her reserved and cautious nature just waiting to be discovered, excited him, too. He didn’t readily understand his feelings, but for the time being, he accepted them at face value.
Mariella was a woman he could chase, if he decided to, rather than someone chasing him, as per usual.
Was she single?
She wore no ring, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a husband, boyfriend or lover. A band of gold or a glittery diamond only meant as much as two people ascribed to it. He’d never knowingly broken up a relationship, but he did believe in fate.
It was a shame she was off-limits.
Sam found the antiques shop, but it was closed. There was an Apartment For Rent sign in the window. After putting the number into his phone, he walked on until he reached a small café. He ignored the signs hawking peppermint lattes and bought an iced tea with lemon. The drink was refreshing, but did not cool his yearning for Mariella.
After he was done, he double-backed toward the inn. He had an early evening meeting with his assistant coaches that should help him focus on what was important.
A man in a pink-and-tan Hawaiian shirt hurried toward him down the narrow sidewalk, carrying a paper sack. Sam stepped aside to let him pass, but the guy nearly collided into him anyway.
The old Sam would have gotten upset at the man’s rudeness; not enough to say anything mean, however, the incident alone would have pricked at him all day.
But ever since his devastating injury, he tried not to get too upset or angry anymore, especially over things in life he couldn’t control. His mind was too busy, trying to reason, trying to process all the possible outcomes for his future. Like whether he would ever return to pro soccer, or even the United Kingdom, for that matter.
The what-ifs.
The what-now.
Everything in his life had changed, including him.
While he’d failed to find an appropriate gift for his mother, he might have found the perfect woman. Sam smiled with the realization that his time in the United States, however brief, could prove to be interesting and satisfying.
He knew better than anyone that there were always multiple ways to a goal.
Chapter 2
“Josh! Come on! We’ve got to go now or we’ll be late!”
“I told you,” Josh yelled back. “I don’t want to go!”
He had just turned seventeen in September and his voice sounded as deep as a man’s. But in Mariella’s heart, he was still her little boy.
His father was six foot two, but Josh rang out at five foot eight inches, and he was still growing.
His upper body was compact and ripped with muscles. There was a full-length mirror in the mudroom, which she’d installed so she could double-check her appearance before she went outside. Sometimes she caught him looking at his reflection and she hoped he liked what he saw. He was such a handsome young man.
Josh was also a gifted athlete, and his greatest strength lay in his legs. His speed and grace on the field had helped the Bay Point Titans become one of the best high school soccer teams in the NorCal region.
She leaned against the stair railing and took out a cloth-covered band from the back pocket of her running shorts. Gathering up her long, black hair into a neat ponytail, she tapped her foot on the bare wood floor and considered her options.
Going upstairs to continue the conversation would likely result in an argument. Lord knows there were plenty of those recently. But allowing Josh to continue to stew in self-pity was not going to help him get out of the funk he’d been in since the accident.
No matter his age, she would never stop worrying that he would get hurt. She also wouldn’t allow him to quit the team out of self-pity. If he didn’t show up at tryouts that was essentially what he was doing.
Her heart blossomed with renewed hope that getting him back on the soccer field where he belonged would help make everything right again.
Especially between us.
They’d been so close, prior to moving to Bay Point. For a long time, Josh was angry with her for taking him away from his friends, some of which he’d known since kindergarten. Though he’d eventually settled in and made plenty of new ones, he never let her forget how much he missed his “real” home.
Wearily, Mariella started to climb the narrow stairs, which always felt like Mt. Everest whenever she had to try to get Josh out of his room. To take her mind off the conflict that lay ahead, she ran her fingertips lightly against the mauve wallpaper, original to the Colonial-style house. It was worn, but the silk-like texture still felt luxurious.
She could have replaced it, and a lot of other things in the house by now, but something always stopped her. Redecorating was time-consuming and expensive, but it also meant setting down permanent roots.
She’d learned a long time ago to look for the beauty in life, which she often found in the oddest of places. It was easier than trying to understand life itself, and required no real commitment on her part.
Soon, though, it would be time to decorate for the holidays, something she did enjoy doing, and she made a mental note to have Josh start bringing all the holiday decorations down from the attic.
They usually went back home to South Central LA to visit her parents for Thanksgiving. Before they left, Mariella would have the tree and everything else up, so that when she got back, she could just enjoy the holidays.
She took a deep breath before stepping into Josh’s room, and held back a frown. He was playing computer games as usual. Headset over his ears, palm over his mouse, he wore an old Bay Point Titans T-shirt and shorts. A good sign. At least he was thinking about going to tryouts.
The blinds wer
e shut, but the windows were open and a mild breeze blew in fresh air, overriding the subtle odor of dirty socks, corn chips and wet towels.
Mariella pursed her lips in mild annoyance. A few slats were broken on one of the blinds. She’d warned Josh to be careful raising and lowering them. They, too, were original to the house, and were fragile due to age.
It was obvious he hadn’t listened to her, but she decided to let it go. The argument wasn’t worth it. The house she’d inherited had already proven to be a money trap and she made another mental note. Add blinds to the list of things in the house needing to be repaired, besides their relationship.
Mariella turned the wand, allowing the morning sunlight to stream into the room. The warm rays spreading over her face helped wash away her irritation.
Josh turned in his chair and lifted his arm over his eyes.
“What did you do that for?”
“To see if you would melt,” she replied with a smile.
“Ha-ha.” His arm thumped back against his desk and he didn’t bother to look up at her.
As Mariella stepped toward him, her foot nudged an empty water bottle. She picked it up and wedged it under her armpit.
“What’s not funny is the fact if we don’t leave soon you will miss your opportunity to play soccer this year.”
“So?” he muttered, eyes focused on the screen.
“So...it’s your senior year,” Mariella responded sternly, ignoring his insolent tone. “This is your last chance to letter in the sport, which as you know, looks—”
“Great on my college applications and could help me get a scholarship,” he replied impatiently. “I know, Mom. You’ve told me this a million times.”
She snapped her fingers. “Then if you know, let’s get going.”
Josh fiddled with his headset and Mariella hoped their conversation wasn’t being broadcast throughout the internet.
“I told you before. I don’t ever want to play soccer again. And even if I did, I can’t. Not like before. Not with my knee.”
His voice cracked a little, and her heart broke a little more for the pain he’d suffered over the past several months.
Mariella softened. “I understand you’re—” she stopped herself from using the word afraid “—concerned, but the doctor cleared you for sports. Though it may feel uncomfortable at first, you’re okay to play.”
His lips trembled, but he still refused to look at her and continued to focus his attention on some sort of military-looking game. From her brief glance at the screen, it had everything she hated—guns, blood and gore.
“I don’t care. Besides, Coach Lander isn’t even going to be there.”
“No, but Sam Kelly is, remember? You were so excited when I first told you he was stepping in to coach the team. What happened?”
Josh jerked his chin toward her, his tone abrasive. “I still think he’s cool, all right? At least the administration didn’t replace him with some chump who doesn’t know anything. Or worse, a parent.”
“Good deal. No chumps, no parents. You’ll be fine.”
“No, I won’t,” he insisted. “Coach Kelly is a pro player, so he’ll probably want me to be perfect. He’ll want everyone on the team to be as good a player as he is.”
“I’m sure he just wants you to try your best.”
“With this knee?” he snorted, returning his attention to the computer.
She put her hand on his shoulder, which he promptly shrugged off. “You’re cleared medically, Josh. And you’re still taking physical therapy, so if there is any soreness after practices, we can get it taken care of right away.”
His hand paused over the mouse, and she could almost see his brain whirring.
“If I go, will you puh-leeze lay off me?”
Mariella hesitated. She didn’t want him to try out to get her off his back. She wanted him to go because he wanted to play soccer, but she had to start somewhere.
“Maybe. But only because you said please.”
He rolled his eyes, and Mariella held in a sigh of relief as he slipped on and laced up his soccer cleats.
When Josh stood, she exhaled and gave him a hug.
“Do me a favor. Don’t give up before you even get on the field.”
He broke away quickly, and she blinked back the start of tears. She tried not to let it bug her when he resisted her affection, but it did.
“I won’t have to even bother trying. The coach will take one look at me and give up for me.”
She set her lips in a firm line. He better not.
The thought of anyone not doing right by her son made her temples pulse with anger and the beginnings of a headache sprout.
She was concerned about Josh. He continued to blame himself for the bike accident, even though it wasn’t his fault. Worse, he never wanted to talk about his feelings; instead, his behavior and attitude spoke for him.
Would things have been different if his father were alive? It was a question always in the back of her mind.
With her heart in her throat, Mariella followed her son as he walked slowly down the stairs.
* * *
On the way to the high school, Mariella racked her brain trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t upset Josh. The drive was short, but the silence between them made the time drag, and knots formed in her stomach.
Seeing Sam again made her both nervous and excited. Since the article about his new position dropped in the Bay Point Courier, the whole town was abuzz. The town had a colorful history as a secret hideaway for movie stars, but this was the first time a well-known sports figure had made his way to its sandy shore. And he hailed from London, no less, home of kings, queens and princesses.
She wondered if the man had had any privacy since.
Mariella stole a glance at Josh. He seemed lost in thought, and likely hoped he wouldn’t have to talk at all. As soon as she parked, he grabbed a water bottle and his gear, and with an emotionless “see ya,” strode off.
At least he said goodbye, she thought, watching him slowly half jog, half walk toward the field.
He’s going to be okay, she told herself for what seemed like the millionth time. And so will I.
She reached the bleachers, sat down and scanned the field.
Sam hadn’t arrived yet, so she eyed the track surrounding the perimeter, aiming to get in the miles she’d missed in the morning. One of the elementary schools was in dire need of a new playground, but there were no funds in the local budget, so she was working with the board of education to write the application for a state grant. She’d volunteered her skills and time, hoping the experience would help further her career.
Mariella stood, turned and put one foot on the bleacher and began to retie the laces of her worn running shoes.
Suddenly, she looked up and cringed at the metallic twang caused by two children bounding down the stairs, and at the sight of Leslie Watkins trailing behind them. Her son, Dante, was one of Bay Point High School’s star athletes, and she let everyone in town know it.
She was thinking so hard about Josh and Sam she hadn’t seen Leslie, a woman who made it a point to be noticed by everything and everyone.
“I’m so glad tryouts are being held in the morning,” Leslie called out, waving her manicured hand in front of her face.
Mariella took her time tying her shoelaces, and then looked up, stifling her annoyance. Conversations with Leslie simply started, without a hello and often without any context, and ended without a goodbye.
“Agreed. It’s only ten a.m. and I’m sweltering.”
Leslie got down to the bottom step and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head.
“You’re going to run in this weather?”
Mariella ignored the dumbfounded look on Leslie’s face. Her metabolism was slow, and seemed to decrease every year with age. It wa
s hard work maintaining her curves.
She grinned and patted her flat tummy. “Have to work off a giant lemon bar I ate at Ruby’s this morning.”
Leslie narrowed her eyes, and Mariella guessed it was her weak attempt to show understanding. “That shop has a lot of us hitting the gym, me included.”
Mariella found that hard to believe. Leslie was model-tall and as thin as a birch stick, with the bitchy personality and spray tan to match.
“I guess no one can resist them, even you,” Mariella replied as she vowed inwardly to avoid any sweets. That morning’s indulgence would have to be the last one for a while. She was starting to train for a half marathon, her first, and it was time to push her body beyond its current limit and control her desires.
Leslie cupped her hands around her mouth. “Matt! Jamie! Don’t go any farther than the playground,” she yelled, and then turned back to Mariella. “Normally we would stay and watch, but today I’m very, very busy.”
“Don’t let me keep you,” Mariella said lightly, eager to get rid of the woman. She didn’t know how long the tryouts would take and she wanted to get her run in.
Plus, she already saw Leslie plenty. She was PTA president and Mariella was vice president, and both were very active in the school.
She grabbed hold of her right ankle, pulling her calf back toward her buttocks to stretch her hamstring. She hoped Leslie would take the hint, but instead she shaded her eyes and prattled on.
“Dante looks good out there, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. Both of our boys have grown so quickly. I can’t believe they’re seniors!”
Mariella spotted Josh kicking a ball toward the white-netted goal. From a distance, he looked as though he couldn’t care less if he made it in or not, while Dante was moving so fast his blond crew cut flashed in the sunlight as he passed the ball from one player to another.
Leslie folded her arms and sighed. “Dante turned eighteen earlier this month. We wanted to celebrate in Hawaii, but as usual, we had to postpone until the end of soccer season.”
Winning Her Holiday Love Page 3