Winning Her Holiday Love

Home > Other > Winning Her Holiday Love > Page 7
Winning Her Holiday Love Page 7

by Harmony Evans


  All of them were nodding, except for Dante.

  Sam raised an eyebrow, pleased it was Josh who was encouraging the rest of the team. Maybe it was because he wanted to be selected as team captain, an honor bestowed on a deserving senior who showed the most leadership potential.

  “I’m counting on it,” Sam said with deliberate gruffness. “Watch those ruts!”

  He warned them daily to be careful, but also didn’t want the condition of the field to drastically affect the way each one of them played.

  The boys ran off, and when they were in place, he blew his whistle. This time around, they had more energy, and Josh even scored the winning goal for his scrimmage team.

  Sam, pacing the sidelines, instructed them to drill the formation a few more times, until practice was over.

  “Great job, Josh!” Mariella yelled out.

  He whirled around, being careful of his bad knee, and saw her standing a few feet behind him. She was struggling to hold on to two bulging grocery bags.

  “Let me help you with those,” he called out.

  The cautious smile he got back was worth the interruption.

  Without waiting for an answer, he took the bags from her and set both on a nearby bench.

  “Thanks.” She whooshed out a breath. “Those were heavy.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He hoped he didn’t sound like he didn’t want her around. Quite the opposite. He’d missed her.

  It was the first time seeing her since he’d stormed out of her home. He’d wanted to call her and tell her he was sorry, but he also knew it was always better to apologize in person.

  “Tim’s mother called and said she couldn’t bring the snacks today.”

  He frowned as he watched her shake what he assumed was a cramp out of her hands.

  “I hope it isn’t anything serious.”

  “She told me she had to go pick up her youngest from school. Not sure of the reason, and it’s really none of my business. I was next on the list, so here I am.”

  “I’m glad to see you. I’m sorry about our conversation. It ended badly.”

  Her eyes gleamed with surprise, and she glanced around briefly.

  “Did you miss me?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

  Sam didn’t want to ask if she’d been avoiding him, but if she thought staying away from him could make him want her any less, she was wrong. He fought the urge to touch her cheek, and instead held the clipboard at his waist.

  “I haven’t seen you anywhere but in my mind in over a week.”

  He wanted to tell her he wished she were in that white robe she’d worn, teasing him with her slim, brown, bare legs.

  Without moving his head, he took his time reviewing her long-sleeve, light yellow button-down shirt and a navy skirt with a sweater tied around her shoulders. Today her attire was all business, and she wore it to perfection.

  “Then I accept your apology.” She smiled, and seemed not to notice his open perusal of her. His dark sunglasses worked their magic once again.

  “I work full-time, so I can’t attend too many practices, but most parents don’t, right?”

  He nodded. “Dante’s mother is here for almost all of them, but I gather that’s because she doesn’t have anything else to do.”

  “Except gossip,” Mariella giggled.

  Sam wasn’t even going to touch that one. He pointed to her fuchsia-and-blue footwear. “Love the sneakers.”

  “Thanks. I changed out of my pumps in the car. My heels would have sunk in this dirt.”

  “You’re very wise. I would mention you look very pretty today, but I don’t want to be accused of flirting.”

  “I won’t tell if you won’t,” she teased and then turned to dig into the grocery bags.

  The straightness of her back flowed into a bottom so round it made him go stiff. With a low groan, he planted the clipboard in front of his waist again.

  “Hmm...could be dangerous, pretty lady.”

  She turned, glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled, seeming not to notice his predicament. He waited a minute until it was safe to put the clipboard down on the bench. Then he helped her set out prepackaged cheese and crackers, a variety of yogurts and fruit. Another parent had already dropped off a cooler stocked with Gatorade and waters.

  When they were done, Sam stepped back a few paces to appraise their work, and Mariella.

  “The guys will appreciate these snacks. They’ve been pretty sluggish all afternoon, until your son stepped up and gave them a pep talk.”

  “Really? Josh did? I’m surprised. He’s usually not that encouraging to himself, let alone others. You must be a good influence on him.”

  She folded her arms over her chest, and he batted away thoughts of his hands there instead.

  “Now who’s flirting with whom?” His heart dug a new well of hope when she returned his sardonic smile.

  Sam turned his back to the field, creating what he hoped was a wall of temporary privacy for the two of them.

  “I really am sorry the way our conversation ended the last time we were together.”

  She put her hands on her hips and took a step toward him, almost close enough for him to feel the heat from her body.

  “I will only forgive you if you promise to behave yourself going forward.”

  He leaned in close enough to smell the sweet rose-scented spice of her perfume. “That’s a promise I’m not sure I can keep.”

  Her mouth parted and before Sam could give in to the strong urge to kiss her, he turned away. His whole body ached with need, and the sooner he got away from Mariella, the sooner he could get back to focusing on what was most important.

  Preparing for the team’s first game.

  He lifted his whistle to his lips, and felt Mariella’s hand on his arm. He turned and searched her eyes.

  “What is it? Practice is nearly over, and I have to give the guys some final feedback.”

  “This won’t take long. I have good news. I spoke to the principal a couple of days ago, and received an email from him today.”

  She clasped her hands together, and her eyes lit up with excitement. “He wants to set up a meeting with you, me, Leslie, and Brian Putnam, your boss, to discuss.”

  “Why Leslie?” he asked, still holding on to the whistle.

  “She’s the president of the PTA. Remember?”

  He let the whistle slack against his chest. “Oh, yeah. No wonder she’s been hanging around, spying on me.”

  Mariella shook her head. “I don’t think so. She probably thinks you’re cute.”

  He shrugged, knowing he couldn’t care less what Leslie thought about him. He only cared about Mariella, although a lot of good it was doing him.

  “Anyway, that is great news. Thanks for helping to kickstart this project. I’ll help in any way I can.”

  “No problem,” Mariella said. “We can talk about it more tonight.”

  Sam scratched his head in confusion. “Tonight?”

  “The potluck barbecue at my house,” Mariella replied. “Didn’t Josh tell you?”

  He rocked back and forth on his heels, not quite believing his good fortune. Since it would have been inappropriate to ask her out on a date, he’d been hoping for an opportunity to spend some time with her. Now he would just have to find a way to talk to her alone.

  “I heard some discussion about it, but I didn’t know I was invited.”

  “Of course you are. I have it for the team every year. In fact, you’re the guest of honor.”

  “Then I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  * * *

  Mariella smoothed her dress and took one last look in the mirror. On impulse, she swirled around once more, admiring the garment’s deep purple hue. It was one of her favorite colors to wear in autumn and win
ter.

  Her excitement grew as her fingers traced the white piping along the scoop neckline, which also trimmed the bell-capped sleeves and hem, and played nicely with her nut-brown skin.

  Although she could have worn jeans and a T-shirt, as host of the event, she always dressed up.

  Her mother taught her to look beautiful for herself first, instead of for a man. She’d never understood that concept until she moved to Bay Point, where she knew no one, and was so focused on parenting her child she’d relinquished dating.

  “Men come and go,” her mother used to say as she braided Mariella’s long black hair, “but we women must go on.”

  Unfortunately, her mother, who believed in “mind over matter,” never agreed with her decision to move, while her dad knew that sometimes a change in environment was best, and helped pay for her moving expenses.

  There were so many times Mariella thought her mother was right. That she had made a mistake in moving to Bay Point. But for Josh’s sake, she’d made the best of the situation. Landing the job at the mayor’s office, getting her degree, making new friends. Now it was time to put a renewed focus on her.

  She dabbed some of her favorite perfume behind her ears, and didn’t feel at all guilty for wanting and needing to look good tonight.

  For herself, but also for Sam.

  When he’d visited her home, she’d outwardly rejected his flirting, though inwardly she’d loved the attention. Seeing him again that afternoon made her realize that perhaps she’d been too hasty. She was tired of putting aside her needs, her desires, but she still had to be discreet.

  Mariella brushed her hair out in long strokes, and sighed at her reflection in the mirror. She almost wished she were a teenager again, doodling hearts in notebooks, unconcerned about what people would say, or think, or do.

  Whether he deserved it or not, Sam had a reputation as a playboy, and in some respects that was immensely freeing.

  She didn’t have to worry about him committing to her, because his track record indicated he wouldn’t. So she was off the hook, too. She just needed to decide in her mind that she could handle having a little fun, without the labels, the love or the commitment.

  Mariella shut the door to her bedroom and went downstairs. Her guests would be arriving soon and she wanted to double-check that everything was ready.

  She’d hosted the barbecue for both the boys’ and girls’ junior varsity and varsity soccer teams for the past three years, offering up her home and her yard, both of which were quite large, for a few hours. It helped ingratiate her and Josh into the Bay Point community, particularly the soccer moms.

  It was also her belief that the event helped her win her bid to be vice president of the PTA, a role she really enjoyed. Being involved in the organization kept her close to key staff at the school, apprised of many upcoming changes and allowed her to feel she had a purpose in Josh’s education, besides being a worrywart.

  The gathering was potluck, so that kept her costs down. She supplied the beverages, plates, utensils and paper products. The soccer team always cleaned up, as best a group of teenagers could, she mused to herself.

  Some parents stayed for the event, but some did not. Most of the single parents chose to drop off their dishes and pick their kids up later. She was never offended, and could certainly empathize with the need to have some alone time.

  Mariella ventured outside. Her backyard was extensive, and bordered by native California perennial wildflowers. The grass was green and lush, watered by an underground irrigation system.

  “How does it look?” Josh asked.

  He’d covered the ten folding tables she’d borrowed from the school with gold vinyl tablecloths. There were sprigs of fresh purple and red mums in small bud vases on every one, and the potluck table had all the plates and utensils neatly placed on one end.

  She appraised her son’s long shorts and T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of one of his favorite basketball teams. He’d recently started taking greater care of his appearance, and she was proud of him for it.

  “Everything looks great, and so do you,” she replied and gave him an awkward sideways hug. “The last thing I need you to do is to check that we have a nice mixture of beverages in the coolers.”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  He lumbered off, his limp barely visible now.

  To her relief, he’d even started doing his physical therapy exercises on a regular basis, and without being asked. She didn’t know what was the motivating factor in Josh’s life, but she was sure Sam had something to do with it. He’d had a positive influence on her, why not her son?

  Since Josh’s father had died, Mariella always felt he needed a strong male role model. Her own father had tried, but when they moved to Bay Point, he and her mom only visited about six times in three years.

  A slight breeze lifted the ends of her hair as she picked up and moved the folding chairs into small clusters to encourage conversation. The weather was unseasonably warm for November. She straightened a stack of lightweight, cotton throw blankets, which she’d placed in a large wicker basket. They were there for the taking in case any of her guests got chilly as the night wore on.

  Mariella glanced over at the hedges surrounding the house. They were strung with multicolored Christmas lights, providing a festive glow. She’d thought of everything, down to the sign on the front door directing guests to the backyard, except how hard it would be to hide her attraction to Sam.

  In the spirit of the season, she’d simply have to be nice, not naughty, she thought with a decided jerk of her chin.

  The first to arrive to the potluck was Emily Stego and her mother.

  Emily played goalie on the varsity girls’ team, and was also Josh’s first crush. She was probably the reason why he was paying so much attention to his clothes and hair. Mariella sincerely hoped Josh would work up the courage to ask Emily out on a date.

  “One last soiree,” Emily’s mother commented.

  Mariella led the way to the potluck table. She’d forgotten the woman’s name, and was too embarrassed to ask.

  “Yes, since this is Josh’s senior year, someone else will have to take over hosting these next year.”

  Emily’s mom set down a macaroni casserole. “Your house is perfect for the occasion.”

  “Thank you, but I’m sure a suitable replacement can be found,” she replied, smiling.

  “The beverages are in the coolers over there under the trees, if you’d care for a soda or water.”

  More guests arrived, including the assistant coaches and their families. Mariella excused herself to go and greet them.

  In a short time, the main entrée table was laden with a variety of foods, including some very appetizing vegetarian options.

  She was organizing the desserts on a separate table when she heard a chorus of shouts, and then a rousing, though off-key, rendition of the Bay Point High School anthem.

  She turned, and as Sam rounded the corner of her house, the boys and girls in the backyard erupted into applause. The parents and coaches quickly joined in and so did she.

  “It’s the man of the hour!” she called out.

  There were a few “hear, hears” from the adults in the crowd, and Sam bowed in response.

  Mariella couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked in tailored blue pants and a white polo shirt that stretched along his chest and biceps.

  Leslie accompanied him, her arm looped through his. Her husband was nowhere in sight. She felt a pang of jealousy, and was disgusted by it, but there it was.

  She reached for the square glass pan of brownies he held in his hands, and smiled. “Hello, Mr. Guest of Honor. You didn’t have to bake.”

  Leslie beat her to it, and claimed the brownie pan.

  “He didn’t bake these. They’re mine. All Sam needs to do is win games.”

  Sam step
ped out of the realm of both women and motioned for his team to gather around him.

  “And we will, right, team?”

  With hoots and hollers, the boys agreed. The girls and their coaches joined in the mini pep rally, too.

  Throughout the evening, everyone clamored around Sam. She noticed he barely had an opportunity to eat, so she fixed him a plate, wedged through the crowd and brought it over to him.

  “We can’t win if our coach starves to death.”

  He took the plate from her and her heart raced at the huge smile on his face. She knew it was meant just for her.

  “I’m fine, Ms. Vency. Thank you.”

  She left and floated from group to group, making sure her guests had what they needed, all the while trying to keep her eyes from tracking Sam.

  Emily’s mom was gone and Josh was at Emily’s side. It was sweet to see them talking, their heads bent toward each other, and she wished she could talk to Sam in the same manner. As the festivities wound to a close, she put out some plastic containers so people could take home leftovers, and then headed back inside to the kitchen.

  She filled one side of her sink with clean, soapy water. Not wanting her guests to take a dirty dish back home, she always offered to wash their empty casserole pans.

  Sam peeked his head in the door. “Need some help?”

  She nodded, more out of shock he was there than actually needing his assistance.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  His eyes widened at the stack of casserole dishes, and he grabbed a sponge from the front edge of the double-bowled sink.

  “Plus, I owe you for feeding me.”

  She looked at him askance, and when she inhaled the scent of his musky cologne, knew that if she got any closer it would be very tough not to be naughty.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this? You’re a popular guy. You have to keep your strength up to sign all those autographs.”

  “I’d rather be here, with you, scraping grease off pans.”

  Mariella grinned and waved a soapy hand in front of her face, in tandem with her heart fluttering in her chest.

 

‹ Prev