His Most Important Win
His Most Important Win
Cynthia Thomason
Dare to dream these sparkling romances will make you laugh, cry and fall in love again and again!When it comes to love hes playing for keepsBryce is living in his small hometown; back coaching his old team; and back in love with his high-school sweetheart. But this time around, hes determined not to lose Rosalies heart ever again. Only problem is, Bryces first love has been keeping a big secret from him all these years.And when he discovers the son Rosalie never told him about, the betrayal may just be too painful. Then again, true love can change everything. And if Bryce has anything to say about it, this is a game that theyll all win together.
I know one other thing. Im not going to wait another fifteen years before I kiss you again.
His mouth settled on hers. His lips were soft and warm and inviting. As sweet as a first kiss. But then everything changed and the boy in her mind became a fully grown version of the person shed loved. His mouth ravaged hers, exploring, igniting a young girls passion into a womans need. The sensation of being devoured by that hot, hungry kiss tingled through her body and she answered it with equal passion. It was like coming home and finding a treasure shed thought shed lost.
He planted a swift kiss on her temple.
By the way, he said. Ill be sleeping here from tomorrow night on. Just in case you get some ideas in the middle of the night that cant wait.
She already had one, and she was pretty sure he knew what it was.
Dear Reader,
What a thrill it is to write this first reader letter as a Mills & Boon
author. I am so grateful to my agent, Kevan Lyon, and my editor, Charles Griemsman, for making this happen. I have always wanted to write a book about high school teachers and coaches, and now this dream is a reality. I was once a high school English teacher like Rosalie, the heroine of this book. Perhaps my involvement with teens and sports explains why Ive always had a bit of a love affair with football coaches. There is something about the caged energy they display on the sidelinesa tense expectation that can translate in a second to fist-pumping jubilation. How rewarding it must be to guide young men into adulthood.
This book also explores my first attempt at writing a teenager as the secret baby my heroine raised. I hope you enjoy Danny. Its easy to love a cute little baby, but a teenager with all that angst and willfulnessif youve had one, you know.
Welcome to Whistler Creek, Georgia. Enjoy your stay.
Cynthia
I love to hear from readers. Please send me your reaction to His Most Important Win at Cynthoma@aol.com. Or visit my website, cynthiathomason.com.
About the Author
CYNTHIA THOMASON writes contemporary and historical romances and dabbles in mysteries. She has won a National Readers Choice Award and the 2008 Golden Quill. When shes not writing, she works as a licensed auctioneer for the auction company she and her husband own. As an estate buyer for the auction, she has come across unusual items, many of which have found their way into her books. She has one son, an entertainment reporter. Cynthia dreams of perching on a mountaintop in North Carolina every autumn to watch the leaves turn. You can read more about her at her website, www.cynthiathomason.com.
His Most
Important Win
Cynthia Thomason
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to the memory of my loving parents, Barbara and Bert Brackett, who never missed a high school football game under the Friday night lights of Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio.
Chapter One
Rosalie pulled into one of the last remaining spots in the parking lot, got out of her car and checked her watch. Three minutes, she grumbled. Ill just make it if I run. She still had no idea why the high school principal had called this emergency meeting. His secretary had said he wanted as many of his faculty members who were in town to attend, so Rosalie had missed a lasagna dinner with her mother and her son to be here.
Hey, Rosalie, wait up.
Spotting her friend and fellow teacher coming across the pavement, Rosalie motioned for Shelby to hustle. At least theres someone whos even later than I am, she said when Shelby had fallen into step beside her. Do you know what this is about?
No clue, Shelby said. But Id rather be anywhere but here. The last thing I want to think about in July is school.
Rosalie held the door open to the three-story brick building and let Shelby go in ahead of her. I hope Canfields not expecting us to volunteer for landscaping duty this summer, she said. Im working more hours at Moms produce stand, and Ive increased my hours at the Brighter Day Center.
Whys that? Have there been any deaths in town recently that I havent heard about?
No, but grief is an ongoing thing. The more we volunteers can counsel grieving kids at the center, the faster they can get on with their lives.
Shelby frowned. I wonder if being around all that sadness is really good for you, Rosalie.
Its been sixteen years since my brother died, Shel.
Okay, message received. Forget I said anything.
They approached the media center at the end of the schools main hallway. The doors were open. Rosalie caught the subtle aroma of old books, always a welcoming scent to English teachers or anyone who spent a good part of their childhood nestled in a corner of a library. Once they entered the room, the delicious mustiness would be combined with the even subtler smell of modern-day plastic coming from the bank of computers taking up an entire wall.
The media center was buzzing with activity. Apparently Principal Canfields calling tree system had worked. Rosalie estimated that nearly three-quarters of the faculty were present along with dozens of booster parents and prominent citizens.
Dexter Canfield, dressed in tan pants and a golf shirt, stood behind the media directors desk chatting with a group of Whistler Creeks most influential citizens including Roland Benton, owner of the towns largest employer, Benton Farms. When Canfield pounded a gavel, the hundred or so attendees stared up at him. Rosalie and Shelby spoke quick greetings to fellow faculty members and took seats in the back.
In his most impressive baritone, the voice Canfield reserved for public address announcements and greetings at halftime sporting events, he thanked everyone for coming and assured the crowd they would not be disappointed. Wasting no time, he proclaimed that a stroke of unbelievable good fortune had befallen the town of Whistler Creek.
We all regret the recent retirement of Bucky Lowell, he said. Heads nodded. The revered football coach had been an institution at Whistler Creek High for as long as Rosalie could remember. At the end of the last school year, on the advice of his doctor, the seventy-three-year-old Bucky had stowed away his whistle and closed his game book for the last time. Since then speculations had run wild about who the board would hire to replace him. The man had never had a losing season, a record no other Georgia high school coach had achieved.
Well, hang on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen, Canfield said, because Buckys replacement is waiting to come into the room. He signed a contract yesterday, and I think youll all agree that the Wildcats couldnt have made a better pick if wed ordered his credentials from the Almighty.
Rosalie studied the expressions of those around her. Some faculty members chuckled. Others shook their heads in bewilderment. A few mumbled guesses about who could possibly fill the shoes of the great Bucky. And then the wait was over. Canfield went to the door of a storage room, opened it wide and in stepped one of Whistler Creeks native sons and former honored gridiron star. He was also the heir to Benton Farms, the areas largest agribusiness and supplier of produce to much of the U.S. Southeast.
When recognition dawned among the old-timers, enthusiastic applause broke out. And Rosalie couldnt seem to draw a breath. It couldnt be. It was. Bryce Benton, wearing a Texas Tech Athletic T-shirt and ball cap, strode to the desk and stood with his hands clasped in front of him waiting for Dexter Canfield to say something.
Rosalie hadnt spoken to Bryce in over fifteen years. Shed only spotted him in town a couple times since hed left for college, and shed always turned the other way. But looking at him now, exuding a casual confidence that came with pedigree, adulation and just the right amount of sun-weathered texture to his skin, she felt the years melt away. She swallowed. For all her efforts to move on with her life, she could have been seventeen again.
Shed never dreamed Bryce would give up his career at Texas Tech. But here he was. For some inexplicable reason, hed apparently chosen to abandon his upward climb at the university to come home and coach at little old Whistler Creek High. Bryce was the onetime all-state wide receiver of the Whistler Creek Wildcats, the future agribusiness magnate and, most important, devastating to Rosalie on so many levels, he was her son Dannys biological father.
Shelby snickered. What the hell is Canfield doing? Looks like hes bringing his prize stallion into the show ring for all to admire. She nudged Rosalie in her ribs. And he definitely is a prize!
Somehow Rosalie found her voice. You dont know Bryce, do you?
Shelby, whod come to Whistler Creek only three years before, grinned. Not yet. Is he single?
Divorced. Whistler Creek was a small town, and over the years the most important details of Bryces life had filtered down to Rosalie. Not that shed asked to hear them.
She stared at the tabletop in front of her. She couldnt look at him, couldnt stand to watch that ruggedly handsome face turn smug with the praise of a public that had obviously forgotten all the details of Bryces background. Forgotten or forgiven.
Thinking back to when she was a gullible teenager, she felt a flush of shame heat her cheeks. She had once believed she was in love with Bryce Benton, the very same guy whod just allowed himself to be paraded into the limelight of his expectant hometown crowd as if he were Dexter Canfields gift to the people of Whistler Creek.
Some mistakes could never be lived down. And some just hurt forever.
Standing in front of people hed never met before as well as old friends he hadnt seen in years, Bryce felt like a damn fool. Canfield had told him to wait in the wings until hed made the announcement just so he could pique the interest of the crowd. Bryce had argued that such a plan was ridiculous, but in the end, hed let Canfield have his way thinking maybe it was better that Dexter prepared the crowd for the return of a prodigal son. Bryce had only come home to Whistler Creek a couple dozen times in the last fifteen years. Now, with something like one hundred pairs of eyes drilling into him, he knew hed been manipulated into being the featured sideshow event for Canfields three-ring circus.
He shook his head, raised his hands palms up in an effort to stop the flow of excited chatter that filled the room. When hed been offered the job to replace Bucky, hed jumped at the chance. Coaching at Whistler Creek was what he wanted. His goal since college had always been to mentor and guide high school kids on the verge of manhood and possible greatness. Despite the tragedy that would always haunt him, coming home to the town and school that had nurtured him through the years had been the fulfillment of a dream. Now he felt like a trick pony waiting to be led through his paces.
Beaming at Bryce, Canfield said, I coaxed him away from Texas Tech, and I wanted all of you to share in this victory for the Whistler Creek High Athletic Department.
Coaxed him away, Bryce thought. Hed taken a ten thousand a year pay cut to be here, and still signed on the bottom line without a moments hesitation. Most people would say he should have his head examined.
But Bryce gambled on possibilities. And the options for changing lives at the head coaching level at Whistler Creek far surpassed those as the assistant offensive coach at Texas Tech. And then there was his dad, who was sitting here tonight. His health had suffered a blow. He needed his son, wanted him to come home.
He looked into his dads eyes now, saw the pride there and took a deep breath. Folks, you all have a seat. This isnt so much a celebration as a chance to get acquainted. Or reacquainted as is the case with many of you.
Are you kidding, Bryce, the president of the Georgia State Bank shouted from the side of the room. This could be the best football season weve ever had.
Bryce tried to smile and slanted a glance at Bucky Lowell who sat nearby. I dont know about that, Bryce said, gesturing at Bucky. Coach Lowell here has left me some pretty big shoes to fill, so lets not get ahead of ourselves. Weve all got a lot of work to do. The players, the coaching staff, most of all, me. I think we should save the celebrating until we get a few wins under our belts.
Dexter Canfield continued to grin like the top salesman on a used car lot. Now you see why I called you here today. We appreciate everything Bucky has done for this program, but today is the beginning of a new era for Whistler Creek athletics. We need to start now, preparing our boys, getting behind our new coach, redoubling our efforts as Wildcat parents and supporters.
I appreciate all the enthusiasm tonight and in the future, Bryce said. But lets remember that the ones who need our support most are the young men wholl soon sweat their guts out on the field once practice starts. He paused before adding, Football in Whistler Creek always has been, and will continue to be, a community effort. Thanks for coming today and for giving me this welcome. But as far as Im concerned, you can all go on home now, knowing that my office in the athletic building is always open.
He remembered the furor surrounding games in the past and doubted Bucky had kept that same open-door policy for his many years at Whistler. Bryce hoped he wouldnt regret making that statement.
As the meeting wound down, he endured countless handshakes and pats on the back before the last of his well-wishers left the media center. Then he said goodbye to Canfield and walked with his father to the school parking lot. When they stepped into the humid July air of a South Georgia evening, Bryce took his dads elbow and held him back. Lets wait until everyone is in their cars, he said.
Roland Benton smiled. A little uncomfortable with all this excitement, are you, son?
Yeah. I didnt anticipate this kind of welcome. Ive been gone a long time.
True, but youve always wanted to come back.
Bryce waved to a man who put down his car window and gave him a thumbs-up sign. I didnt think it would be like this. You know how it is, Dad. When expectations run too high, everyone can end up disappointed and disillusioned.
Just do your job, Bryce, Roland said. No one can ask more. And no one should expect more than your best effort. He smiled. Thats all youll ask of the players, right?
True enough. Seeing the parking lot emptying out, Bryce stepped onto the pavement. He saw two women chatting between cars about a hundred feet down the lot. He stared for a moment before a familiar pang pierced his heart. Could it be? He recognized the lush curls of black hair that fell to one womans shoulders. Dad, isnt that Rosalie Campano?
Roland squinted. Sure is.
Is her mother still running her produce stand on Fox Hollow Road?
Yes, indeed. Claudia is one of our best local customers. Rosalie still lives with her. You know Rosalie teaches at the high school now?
Yeah. Mom told me that a few years back. I should have known shed be here when I heard Canfield had called the faculty out for this show. Bryce had thought a lot about Rosalie over the years. Shed been an important part of his life at one timeuntil the day hed brought so much grief into hers.
Rosalie laughed as she carried on a conversation with the other woman. Bryce recalled the bright, bubbly sound of her voice. Is her name still Campano? he asked.
You mean did she ever get married?
Yeah.
No. Shes single. Came close a time or two from what I understand, but it didnt work out.
Rosalie had never married? Bryce tried to rein in his careening thoughts. Roland took Bryces arm and gently tugged him toward their car parked in the opposite direction.
Wait, Bryce said, knowing he could be treading on emotional quicksand. I want to say hello.
Maybe nows not a good time
Why not? Im going to be seeing a lot of Rosalie. Well be working in the same building, maybe teaching some of the same kids. Bryce was already several steps ahead of his dad. Nows the perfect time.
It was crazy. Bryce knew that. But the closer he got to Rosalie, the more his heart pounded. For Petes sake. It had been almost sixteen years since Ricky had died. Theyd each gone on with their lives. But heck, she was right there across the lot, where she couldnt refuse his phone calls. Bryce always wondered if maybe hed get the chance to tell her again how sorry he was for what happened. So he quickened his footsteps.
And then she looked up and trapped his gaze. It was only a quick glance, almost as if she hadnt noticed him at all. But her smile faded and she turned again to her friend, said something brief and got in her car. Bryce stopped dead. Before he could have reached her, shed backed her red compact car out of its space and was headed to the street.
And for the second time that night, Bryce felt like an idiot.
Chapter Two
Shortly after the meeting at the high school broke up, Rosalie came in the back door of the home she still lived in with her mother. She reached down and scratched behind Dixies ear. The golden retriever nuzzled her soft nose against Rosalies jeans. The scent of fresh baked bread and pungent Italian spices filled the welcoming kitchen. A half-filled dish of lasagna sat on the table along with the remains of a salad in a seasoned wooden bowl. Rosalie called out, Mom, you here?
Drying her hands on a towel, Claudia came out of the pantry. Theres plenty of lasagna left, Rosalie, she said. Ill heat up a plateful if youre hungry.
No, thanks. Im going out in a little while.
Oh? You seeing Ted?
Her mother was one of the few people who knew Rosalie had accepted a few dates with Whistler Creek Highs baseball coach. Rosalie tried to keep her personal life private. No. Hes got his kids this weekend. Im meeting Shelby downtown at the Creek Side Tavern. She stepped to the entry to the living room and looked around. Is Danny here?
No. His friends picked him up twenty minutes ago.
Rosalie sighed with relief, pulled out a kitchen chair and slumped into it. Good. I dont have to pretend that everythings okay then.
You certainly dont have to pretend with me, Claudia said. Ive already heard. Sharon Potter was at the meeting and she called me when she got home.
Then you know about our new football coach.
I know. Claudia shook her head. I always thought Bryce would come back here, especially after his divorce. And now his father had that bypass surgery
Rosalie blew out a long breath. I always prayed he wouldnt return.
Claudia pulled out a chair and sat across the table from her daughter. Dont borrow trouble, Rosalie. Just because Bryce is back doesnt mean that anything has to change.
Rosalie sighed deeply. I think everything will change, for me at least. Ill have to face him at school every day this fall and I might even run into him at Benton Farms when I go there to pick up your produce orders.
Then a startling realization occurred to her and she stared at her mother. Like tomorrow, she said. I promised you Id go to Bentons in the morning. What if Bryce is there?
Claudia squeezed her hand. I dont know where Bryce is staying, but even if he is out at his parents place, you can go to the market early, before most normal people are even out of bed.
Rosalie nodded. Yeah, I can do that. But Mom, having Bryce return to Whistler Creek feels a little like adding gasoline to a long-simmering fire. She raised her hands. Ka-boom.
Youre jumping to conclusions, Rosalie. The secret has remained buried since Danny was born. Thats a long time. Only four people are alive in this town who even know that Bryce is Dannys father. None of us has ever broken the promise we made that night. She frowned and looked away.
Rosalie recalled that stressful meeting at the Benton home nearly sixteen years ago. Claudia Campano had briefly argued in favor of letting Bryce know about Rosalies pregnancy, but she had quickly capitulated to everyone elses desires.
Rosalie picked up a slice of bread from a basket at the center of the table and began shredding it. I wish I were as confident as you, Mom. But in the back of my mind I picture Bryce coming face-to-face with Danny, and just, well, knowing. Like this cosmic bond will connect the two of them.
Claudia took the mutilated bread from Rosalies hand. Thats not going to happen, honey. Weve always been careful. Growing up, Danny never questioned your story about his father.
Thats because Poppa was still alive and he was the only father Danny ever needed. He was better to Danny than anyone else could have been. Rosalie clasped her hands on top of the table. I never told you, Mom, but last year, a few months after Poppa died, Danny asked me about his real father.
And what did you tell him?
I kept up the pretense Id established beforethat his father and I only knew each other a short time. That was a lie. Shed known Bryce all her life. That we were only together one time. That was the truth. That his father was not ready to assume the responsibility of a baby. That was the truth. And I told Danny again that I loved him from the moment I knew he existed, and you and Poppa loved him as if he were your own, too.
Claudia nodded. And was Danny satisfied?
I guess. I appeased him by promising that later, if he wanted to try and find his father, I would help him do that. Of course, I hoped that he would never ask.
And he hasnt, Claudia said. Just because Bryce is back in town doesnt have to mean anything. The physical resemblance is almost nonexistent. Danny need never know. Her eyes widened as her lips turned up in a strange sort of smile. Unless you decide to tell him.
What? Mom, I cant see that as a possibility. Rosalie pressed her finger against the bridge of her nose where a headache was just beginning to form. I wish I didnt have this feeling of foreboding, like something terrible is going to happen.
Give this some time, Rosalie. Bryce will settle in. Youll continue with your lifeyour teaching and your volunteer duties. Ive always believed that things just work out for the besteventually. She touched Rosalies cheek. Now, go. Get ready to meet your friends. You need to get your mind on something else.
Rosalie stood, pushed her chair under the table. I dont think Im going to be good company. She headed toward the living room but turned around when her mother said her name. Something else, Mom?
Did you talk to him, honey?
No. After the meeting he came toward me in the parking lot. I panicked, got in my car and drove away. She bit her bottom lip. Shed never admit that certain instincts, long suppressed, had almost caused her to wait for him to reach her. I wasnt ready to face him, she said. I dont think I ever will be.
Claudia nodded. Time will tell.
Whats that supposed to mean? Its been more than fifteen years. And tonight I learned that all time has told me is that I still react to Bryce Benton.
Trying to put Bryce out of her mind, she went down the hallway toward her room, the cozy, familiar, rosy space that had been her private sanctum all her life. On the way, she stopped at another door, put her hand on the knob and took a deep breath. Her brothers old room, which was now Dannys. For three months after Ricky had died, Rosalie hadnt been able to even look inside this space. Her father, in his attempt to heal his family, had eventually gone in and packed up many of the items Ricky had treasured. He hadnt asked the women of his family to help.
But there had been practical matters to consider. A family had to move on. A baby was coming. Theyd ordered a crib and other essentials. This room was needed for the future of the Campano family.
Rosalie turned the knob and opened the door. Although other mementos of Ricky existed in the housein her mothers room and the living roomthe only reminder of Ricky in this space now was a photo of him in his Wildcat uniform. Danny had insisted on keeping the photo of his Uncle Ricardo, whom hed never met, on that hutch above his desk.
Rosalie walked into the room and picked up the photo, which was both comfortingly familiar and achingly sad. She smiled at the image of her second half, the other part of her. With his football helmet tucked against his side, his shoulders unnaturally wide and strong under the padding, his dark hair military short as if hed prepared for the battle on the football field, Ricky was the picture of invincible confidence.
She touched the tip of her finger to the letters of his jersey. Shed been so proud of him, the Wildcats star quarterback, recipient of a scholarship to Florida State University. Even now, looking at his cocky smile, her heart melted.
I miss you, she said to the quiet room. She still felt his presence in every square foot of the Campano house, but especially here. Could anything really separate twins? Not time. Not even death.
Setting the photo back on the shelf, she looked around at the things that identified her Danny. A baseball bat signed by Alex Rodriquez. A weathered mitt hed outgrown after three seasons of Little League. Pictures of his heroes on the wallscurrent Atlanta Braves, legendary New York Yankees. A photo of Danny in his junior varsity baseball uniform. Soon that would be replaced by his freshman picture in a varsity uniform when he would take the mound as the Wildcats newest star pitcher.
By Dannys third birthday, Rosalie had known he would be an athlete. Hed had the passion, the determination and the skinned knees to prove it. When, at a very young age, he had picked up a football hed found in the park, her heart had seemed to stop beating for several long, painful seconds until shed taken it from his hands. That very day she brought him to the sporting goods store and introduced him to every other sport. Hed settled on baseball and shed encouraged him through all his years.
Shed never been sorry shed pushed him in that direction. Once, when he had mentioned trying out for the football team, she had discouraged him, saying his talents lay on the diamond, not the gridiron. Hed accepted her advice, and hed thrived. Hed proven himself. Most important, shed been able to watch his progress from the bleachers without fearing that the next moment, the next play, could alter his life forever. She couldnt go through that again. Much like she couldnt face Bryce Benton.
She closed the door to Dannys room and went to shower and dress. Shed make it an early night so she could do as her mother suggested and be at Benton Farms first thing the next morning. While Bryce and most of the world slept in, shed pick up her order and be gone.
Benton Farms was located five miles outside of Whistler Creek on a two-lane road that wound through rolling hills, green pastures and what real estate agents called some of the best farmland in America. At 6:50 a.m., after pulling on jeans and an old T-shirt and fastening her unruly hair in a clip, Rosalie sipped coffee from a thermal mug as she chugged along the sparsely populated route in the old pickup Claudia had purchased for her produce business.
Over the years Rosalie had managed to maintain a working relationship with the Bentons despite the heartache their son had brought into her life. And shed been grateful Danny had inherited the dark eyes and olive complexion of the Campanos and not the lighter skin tones and fair hair of the Bentons. No one in town had ever suspected that the onetime childhood friends, Rosie and Bryce, had ever conceived a child. And Rosalie had further protected her sons identity by slightly modifying his birth records.
Today she planned to be first in line to drive through the wholesale distribution section of Bentons corporate sales area which opened to local buyers at 7:00 a.m. Rising before dawn hadnt been a problem. After coming home from dinner with friends, Rosalie had slept restlessly. Finally shed kept one eyelid raised to her window, watching for the first hint of a pink sunrise on the eastern horizon.
Her mind raced with the possible ramifications of last evenings odd turn of events. Why had Bryce sacrificed his climb up the university coaching ladder? Did he miss his hometown that much? Did he feel an obligation to his parents? Had the divorce shed heard about set him back emotionally so that his return to Whistler Creek was as much a healing exercise as anything else? Rosalie could almost understand that explanation. She couldnt imagine living anywhere else herself.
But Bryce, at least the young man shed known and fancied herself in love with, had always displayed enough confidence to combat any of lifes trials. Surely he could handle news of his fathers declining health, the breakup of a marriage. After all, hed recovered easily enough from the death of his best friend.
And why had he approached her in the parking lot yesterday? Did he suspect the truth about her quick getawaythat shed seen him and was avoiding a face-to-face meeting? Shed tried to appear casual, spontaneous, as if she hadnt noticed him. She hoped hed believed that a sudden thought had occurred to her and shed naturally and without ulterior motive gotten into her car and sped away. And if not, did he suspect the other, more devastating truth, that facing him, dredging up memories, both good and bad, possibly initiating new ones, was the last thing she needed in her life?
Thankful that the electric gates had been parted a few minutes early, Rosalie drove onto Benton property and headed a quarter mile down the road toward the steel buildings that housed the wholesale division of Benton Farms. As she pulled up next to the overstuffed bins of vegetables, she noticed that she was the first local produce dealer to arrive. The usual farmhands, wearing the trademark green Benton Farms polo shirts, waved at her as they always did. She knew each of them would be willing to help her choose her stock and load it into the back of the truck.
She climbed out of the drivers seat and spoke to Juan Gonzalez. Hed been hired by Roland Benton to work under her fathers direction when Enzo Campano had supervised the wholesale area. Rosalie had known him since she was a little girl.
Juan, I need red peppers today and ten bushels of corn. Maybe eight pounds of Vidalia onions. She handed him her list.
I get you set up in no time, Miss Rosalie. He began loading cartons while she walked among the bins of rich, ripe crops recently harvested on Benton land.
She picked up a tomato and was deciding if this particular one was overripe when a hand settled lightly on her shoulder and a familiar voice spoke into her ear. Hello, Rosalie. Been a long time.
She jerked as if his fingers had delivered an electric shock to her nervous system, whirled around and dropped the tomato on the pavement. It exploded into a pulpy mass, which immediately attracted a number of tiny winged insects. Rosalie swallowed and looked up into clear blue eyes that had haunted her teenaged dreams. She swore under her breath. What the hell was Bryce doing out here at the crack of dawn? Her voice came out dry and tinny sounding when she frowned down at the mess by her sneaker. Sorry about that, she said.
Dressed in the same Benton Farms shirt as the other employees, Bryce grabbed a paper towel from a nearby dispenser and bent over to scoop up the mess. No problem. He swept his other hand over the loaded cartons of tomatoes. As you can see, we have a few others.
He tossed the soggy towel into a trash can and wiped his hand on his jeans. If hed planned to shake hands with her, he changed his mind. Thank goodness. Rosalie didnt need to test her reaction to another touch.
I saw you last night at the high school, he said.
She blinked a couple times, trying to blur the image of Bryces face that seemed determined to burn itself into her retina. Last night hed worn a ball cap low over his forehead, and hed been at the other side of the room. Today his features were clear, undiluted by shadow and the play of artificial light. And she would have known him anywhere. Just as she remembered, the corner of his mouth quirked up in an odd half grin. His eyes, nearly the rich color of blueberries, narrowed under thick, brown lashes. Strands of his hair, longer than she would have thought hed like and darker blond than she recalled, fell to the arch of his slightly darker eyebrows.
He continued to pin her with a disturbingly intense gaze as the grin broadened. Rosalie? You okay?
Of course he would ask that. Shed been standing for several awkward moments hoping her senses would return along with enough intelligible words so she wouldnt sound like an idiot. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. What had he said? Something about seeing her at the high school. Hunching one shoulder with feigned indifference, she said, I was there. Canfield wanted all the faculty to witness
She stopped, knowing she was about to finish the sentence with a biting example of sarcasm.
the spectacle? Bryce filled in for her.
I wasnt going to say that. Sure she wasnt. That was the exact word that had popped into her mind.
He chuckled. Well, thats what it was. Only an appearance by the Wildcat marching band could have been worse.
Obviously your return is viewed as a miracle by some people around here. Who better to take over for Bucky than a hometown football hero? A shudder rippled down Rosalies spine. She really hadnt meant to sound so unkind. A better plan would be to appear totally indifferent to Bryce.
I guess well see about that, he said.
Miss Rosalie! The call came from a few yards away.
She stood on tiptoe to see over Bryces shoulder. Thats Juan by my truck. He must have my order together.
Ill give him a hand.
Bryce stood aside as she walked ahead of him to the pickup where her order was stacked on the pavement. Knowing he was behind her made the skin at the nape of her neck prickle. Her footsteps felt leaden; the distance of only a few yards to her truck was like the length of a football field.
A line of trucks and trailers had started to form behind her. Wed better hurry and get this loaded, she said. You have other customers.
The three of them filled the pickups cargo area. Rosalie quickly consulted her list and wrote a check. When she tore it out of the book, she hesitated, looking first at Juan and then Bryce. Who do I give this to?
Give it to Juan, Bryce said. Hes the boss. Im just here to do what I can.
She handed over the check and opened the door to the truck. I suppose your father is happy youre back.
He seems to be. I hope I can be more of a help than a hindrance.
She climbed inside the truck, shut the door and started the engine. Bryce leaned on her open window. Funny, but as soon as I got out here among the harvest this morning, it all came back to me, he said. I suppose produce is in my blood.
And football, she said.
Yep. And football.
Rosalie stared out her windshield. All she had to do was put the truck in gear, and this whole anxiety-inducing episode would be over. Shed survived a face-to-face with Bryce. Maybe she could even walk by him in the halls of Whistler Creek High School without dissolving into a mass of insecurities. Not risking another look at his face, she lifted her hand. Well, see you. Say hi to your parents.
I will. Give my regards to Claudia.
Sure thing. Eyes straight ahead. Lips tight. Truck shifted into drive.
Now just take your foot off the brake.
Oh, Rosalie, he said, his arm still on her door.
She swiveled her head slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. Yes?
You want to get together?
Now her eyes snapped to his. Was he kidding? No. He actually appeared sincere. Ah
Im only working until noon today, just until the out-of-town orders are loaded on trucks. Maybe we could meet at the Whistler Inn for lunch.
Lunch? She gripped the steering wheel and resisted the urge to slap her forehead. She was an English teacher for heavens sake, and all she could muster was monosyllabic responses.
He chuckled. Yeah. Its the meal in the middle of the day. Most people eat it.
She glowered at him. I cant do lunch.
Are you sure? I thought maybe I could catch up on fifteen years of Whistler Creek gossip.
Bryce, your parents can fill you in on whats happened around here.
I suppose they could, if all I wanted to know about was the sixty-something country-club set. But I never cared much about those people when I lived here.
Right. You much preferred the simple earthiness of the Campanos. Well, not any more. Look, I just cant. Im working at the stand today. That was a lie. Saturday was Rosalies errand day. She did chores while Danny helped Claudia at the stand. Now she had to hope Bryce didnt stop by.
Some other time then?
She eased off the brake, gratified when the truck slipped away from him. Maybe. Who knows? she said.
Rosalie?
She gingerly stepped on the pedal, slowing the truck to a crawl. What?
I still miss him, too.
She hit the accelerator and drove off. When she looked in her rearview mirror through burning eyes, she saw Bryce standing there, hands on hips, watching her leave.
Chapter Three
Marjorie Benton slid another pancake on top of the stack shed already layered on Bryces plate. You ready for more bacon? she asked.
He stared up at her. Mom, enough. Ive only been home a few days, and Ive probably gained five pounds.
She scooted the syrup bottle closer to him. Its Sunday, Brycie. We always have big breakfasts on weekends, remember?
Bryce sought help from his father who remained hidden behind the newspaper. So that plate of scrambled eggs and sausage that you brought to me in the wholesale market on Friday morning was a light meal? he said to her.
Roland Benton covered up a chuckle with a rustle of the sports section.
Marjorie sat at the table next to her son. It wouldnt hurt you to put on a few pounds, she said. I know you dont cook for yourself as a bachelor
He started to tell her that he was a good cook, even had a recipe box in one of the cartons currently stored in the garage, but figured shed then tell everyone in town about her son, the kitchen wizard. Probably not the best image for the new football coach to project. Besides he could always tell when his mother was on a roll and knew the futility of trying to stop her.
I suspect you havent eaten properly in years, she continued. I know that woman you were married to didnt like to cook. She paused. Or keep a clean house.
Bryce smiled around a bite of doughy pancake. It wasnt as if he and that woman had lived in squalor for four years. True, Audrey hadnt been the domestic type, but shed made sure the cleaning lady showed up weekly, so hed never been able to write his initials in the dust. And shed mapped out the best take-out restaurants in Lubbock, so when he didnt feel like cooking for the two of them, theyd never gone hungry. Housekeeping issues hadnt been what broke them up.
Marjorie raised one finger in the air. But
Bryce swallowed and washed down the pancake with a big gulp of milk. Here it comes.
I think we should discuss whats really concerning me this morning, his mother said. Behind his newspaper, Roland took a long swallow of coffee.
Bryce set down his fork and pushed away his plate. Mom, do we really need to go over this?
She tapped a manicured fingernail on the tabletop. I dont see why youre meeting with a real estate agent today, Bryce. Give me one good reason why youre rushing into this.
He set his elbows on the table and looked at her. Mom, would you like to see my drivers license? Its proof that Im thirty-three years old.
Her spine stiffened. I know how old you are, Bryce. I was there the day you were born.
But you havent been there every day for the last fifteen years, he said. Im used to living on my own. I need my own place.
Whats wrong with your old room?
Nothing. It has four sturdy walls, a big window overlooking the back patio, a view of the cornfield and the peach orchards. Its a paradise. He took a deep breath. In fact, I think you and Dad should strip it bare, paint the walls a bright sunny color, move in your sewing machine and cutting table and make it your home hobby center.
Really, Bryce! Im only thinking of you.
He glanced at the ceiling as if inspiration, and patience, could be found there before covering her hand with his and once again wishing he werent an only child. Mom, I love you. You know that.
She brushed a strand of blond hair off her forehead and sniffed.
I want a homemy homeand I want it in this town.
She pursed her lips a moment. This is your home, Bryce. What need do your father and I have for this big house?
Thats a good question, he said. And one for you and Dad to think about. But for now, Im tired of living in places that, for the last fifteen years, have always seemed like temporary shelters to me. Dorm rooms, apartments, condos. I want a house, a little bit of land, some grass with honest-to-goodness roots that I can fertilize and watch grow. Ive waited a long time for this opportunity to come my way, and I want those roots in Whistler Creek soil. Soil with my name on the deed.
Marjorie looked out the sliding glass doors which opened onto a view of acres and acres of rich Benton farmland. But all this will eventually be your soil, Bryce.
Maybe so, Mom, and I look forward to helping Dad when he needs me. But for now
Marjorie started to speak, but stopped when Roland suddenly made a show of folding the newspaper and setting it on the table. Roland didnt say much, but when he did, everyone in the room generally gave him the floor. Hes a grown man, Marjorie. Hes going to contribute to this community in more ways than just as the heir to Benton Farms. Roland leaned forward, leveling a steely gray gaze on his wifes face. Let him go. Whats a few miles between you and him anyway?
Marjorie fingered the flowery buttons on her robe before standing to her full, impressive five feet eight inches. She picked up Bryces plate and walked to the sink. Fine, she snapped, turning the water on full blast.
Bryce sat in the uncomfortable silence for a full minute wondering if he should say something to bridge a gap between his parents which all at once seemed cavernous. And then his father reached across the table for a slice of crisp bacon on a platter. He picked it up and had it halfway to his mouth when Marjorie, the always effective eyes in the back of her head in full operational mode, stormed the table and smacked his hand. Dont even think about it, she said, pointing to his chest as if his heart had ears.
Roland dropped the bacon, gave his son a little smile and picked up his newspaper.
Bryce stood in the middle of a stand of live oak trees and looked at the front of the weathered clapboard house hed just toured. Turning to the real estate agent hed hired, he said, I cant believe how many times Ive driven this road, Lisa, seen this driveway, but never really knew what was back here behind all these trees.
Im not surprised, the agent said. You cant see the structure from the road. She consulted notes in her portfolio. The house was built in 1953 by a Canadian man, Clive Harbin. Its only had two owners, Clive and his son, who inherited the place and used it as a winter residence since sometime in the 80s. The son, whose name is Wyatt, has been unable to make the trip for the last three years, and the house has remained unoccupied all that time. I guess thats why Wyatts kids convinced him to sell.
Bryce noted the missing shingles, crumbling bricks on the chimney. It needs work, he said. Gutters need to be replaced. The whole house needs painting, inside and out. Even as he listed the homes problems, his hands itched to get to work on it. An hour ago, when hed cleared the narrow, rutted drive and had his first view of the house, hed fallen in love with its clean, traditional lines. Now he was trying to keep his enthusiasm at a reasonable level so he wouldnt make a mistake with an offer.
A classic cottage farmhouse, the Realtor had called it. Steep second-story roof, a pair of gabled windows, an inviting porch that extended along the front and wrapped around one side. The inside floor plan met his needs exactly. A big living room with a stone fireplace, nice-size dining room, a kitchen that needed updating but was plenty big enough for a small table and chairs. A master bedroom downstairs with a small bonus room he could use as an office, and two small bedrooms upstairs.
Lets walk around back, the agent suggested. It says on my specs that the property extends three hundred yards into the wooded area.
As they made their way around the side of the house, Bryce noted the well and water softener, and a patch of green grass that probably indicated the septic system. The rest of the yard was mostly weeds and overgrown shrubs. How much total acreage? he asked when they looked beyond the border of the backyard to a forest of pine, oak and magnolia trees.
Four-and-a-half acres, Lisa said, looking down at her shoes. Im not going into the woods with you in these new heels, but you go ahead.
Bryce walked into the thick forest and returned after a few minutes. His mind buzzed with plans. Hed need to hire a backhoe operator to clear the wild shrubs and scrub trees, buy a decent chainsaw and weed eater.
So what do you think? she asked. When you gave me your wish list, I immediately thought of this place.
Its the best of the three weve seen, he said.
And its location on Fox Hollow Road makes it easily accessible to town.
And the Campanos house, Bryce thought. As he was following the agent to this property, hed passed the home where hed spent so many happy days growing up. When hed glanced at the house, his heart had lurched in his chest. For most of his formative years, Bryce had felt as comfortable in the Campano home as he had in his own house. Maybe even more so. He and Ricky and Rosalie had been like siblings, Enzo and Claudia, like second parents.
Hed noticed too, the cars parked at Claudia Campanos roadside stand. Not surprising that on a beautiful Sunday afternoon folks would be stopping for fresh produce. He hadnt seen Rosalie. Bryce made up his mind to stop at the stand on his way back down Fox Hollow Road and say hello to Mrs. Campano.
What do you want to do? the agent said, breaking into his thoughts. Id love to draw up a contract on this house. She gave him a brilliant smile. I think it would be perfect for our towns new football coach.
Ill need to arrange inspections first, he said. Check for termites. Check the roof, plumbing and electrical.
Of course. But we can make the contract contingent on the inspections coming in satisfactorily. She tapped a pen on the top of her portfolio. You dont want to lose this place by not having your name on the dotted line.
He smiled. How many offers have you had on this property since it was listed last year? he said.
She shrugged. Admittedly its been a slow market.
Bryce was going to own this house. He felt it in the jangle of excited nerves in the pit of his stomach. Its listed at ninety thousand?
Thats right.
Write up an offer at twenty percent under that price. Well see what happens.
She held out her hand. Meet me in my office in a half hour. Ill get the paperwork started.
Rosalie joined her son and her mother at the produce stand midafternoon on Sunday. When are your friends picking you up to go to the park? she asked Danny.
He checked his watch. They should be here any minute. I need to get my gear. Are you staying to help Grandma?
Yes. You go on.
Thanks. He pointed to an insufficient number of small baskets of tomatoes sitting in a bin. You need to restock. I was just getting ready to do that.
Sure. Looks like its been a good day.
He agreed, said goodbye to Claudia and jogged away just as a Honda Civic pulled into the drive and followed him toward the house. Rosalie waved to Dannys friend at the wheel. She took a stack of miniature bushel baskets from under the bin and started to fill them with tomatoes from a large crate. Her attention was diverted when a black pickup with sparkling chrome accessories braked in front of the stand. She immediately noticed a front bumper license plate in black and gold that said Texas Tech University, and a moment later, Bryce Benton got out of the drivers seat.
He started to walk to Rosalie but stopped when Claudia hooted so loud a customer spilled a bag of peaches. Bryce Benton! Oh, my stars. Get over here.
Bryce strode around the back of the stand and gave Claudia a hug. When she finally let him loose, she placed the flat of her hand over her heart and stared up into his face. You have gotten even better looking, if thats possible.
Rosalie hurried to the front to help the customer retrieve her peaches. As she worked, she couldnt help thinking that her mothers reaction to seeing Bryce was amazing, and not in a good way. For a time, both women, and Rosalies father as well, had nurtured bad feelings against Bryce every bit as strong as the ones Rosalie still seemed to cling to.
Numb with grief at the sudden, tragic death of their son, Rosalies parents had sought comfort in the only way they knew howby blaming the young man whose show-off antics had resulted in the accident which took the life of his best friend. Looking back, Rosalie realized that the anger and bitterness against Bryce, rightly or wrongly, had probably been the glue that had held the Campano family together through the weeks and months of mourning.
And then Danny came along and their lives progressed according to a new purpose and pace. Rosalie continued to cry every night for her brother. Enzo Campano buried his grief so deep that Rosalie often wondered if he allowed himself to think about Ricky at all. And Claudia threw her efforts and mothering skills into making a home for her grandson.
Unlike her daughter and her husband, at some point, shed let go of the anguish and resentment. At least she said she had. But had she ever really forgiven Bryce? Since the Campanos didnt talk much about the incident, Rosalie had always wondered. Today, however, almost sixteen years after her sons death, Claudia tried to convince her daughter in this grandiose gesture of welcoming Bryce home that she had.
Youre the talk of the town, Bryce, Claudia said. He grinned in a seemingly modest way and chatted quietly with her.
Rosalie rang up the customers order. When the lady got in her car and drove away, Bryce walked over. So hows business, Rosalie? he said.
Its okay.
The Honda sped past with Danny in the backseat. The driver honked his horn and turned onto Fox Hollow Road.
Bryce stared at the car for a moment and then snapped his fingers. Thats right. You have a kid, dont you? My mother told me you went to college, met a guy and had a baby.
Thats right.
A boy?
Yes.
And you moved back home with Claudia?
Right again.
The car rounded a curve and disappeared. Rosalie hoped that would be the end of the conversation. Nope.
Is your son in high school yet? Bryce asked.
Vague. Vague. Keep your answers vague. Divert attention away from Danny. Starts this year, she said, returning to the task of packing tomato boxes. Bryce didnt take the hint and move away, so she looked up at him, swallowed an involuntary sigh, and said, Youre surrounded by fruits and vegetables at your house, Bryce, so youre obviously not here to shop.
He smiled. Not today.
Then ?
He leaned a hip against the stand. Campanos does business with Benton Farms, and Im grateful for your years of support. Would you believe its customer appreciation day?
Right. She rearranged tomatoes to fit more boxes in the bin. Not unless this magnanimous event just started today.
As a matter of fact, it did.
She huffed. And exactly how many Benton customers have you visited so far to show your appreciation?
The grin broadened. Youre the first.
She frowned at him and continued working, though on some deeper emotional level she was aware of his every move. As you can see, Im busy. If you want to go appreciate someone else, feel free.
I stopped by for another reason, too, he said.
And that would be?
He stood straight and looked down the road. You and I are going to be neighbors.
Her hand stilled. She clutched her fists at her sides. What are you talking about?
Im about to become a home owner. I put a bid in for a place down the road, about halfway between your house and the old gristmill.
Her mind scrambled to come up with a location. Houses were separated by acres of land on Fox Hollow Road. There were no close neighbors in the traditional sense. The only property she knew of that was for sale was the old Harbin place. Surely he didnt mean the homestead that was less than a mile away.
I just left the Harbin property, he said. Ive made an offer.
She could only stare, reining in her first impulse to shout at him that he had no right. That she didnt want him living so near. That she didnt need to be thinking about him driving past her house every day, invading the space in her heart that once had been filled with him. Instead, after a few moments she found her voice. That place has been vacant for quite a while.
I know. It needs some work. Have you ever driven back there to see the house?
She had once or twice, when she was a kid. But she couldnt tell him right now what the house even looked like. My dad knew old Mr. Clive, she said. And he sometimes drove produce out to Wyatt Harbin when he was in town. I dont remember much about the place. The people who stayed there kept to themselves.
Light animated Bryces eyes. Its a great place, Rosalie. Got real potential. I cant wait to start fixing it up.
It wasnt enough that she was going to work with Bryce at the high school. Now they were going to be neighbors. In a spread-out, rural community the size of Whistler Creek, why hadnt he found a house miles away on one of the other country roads?
She realized he was talking and forced herself to tune in.
a done deal yet. The family will have to accept the offer. He stopped, stared at her. But I really want that house, Rosalie. Ill start to feel more like a part of the community once Ive moved in. He waited for a reaction from her and when he didnt get one he said, Arent you going to congratulate me?
At the risk of choking she said, Congratulations, Bryce. She almost said, Once again youll get everything you want, but instead said the words she knew her eavesdropping mother would be waiting for. I hope youre happy in the new place.
He smiled. Since well be living so close, maybe youll bring me a cup of sugar if I need to borrow it.
That was the last straw. In spite of Claudias listening to every word, Rosalie said, Look around you, Bryce. Nothing but fields and barns and open space. This isnt Wisteria Lane for heavens sake. We dont meet in the mornings for coffee and in the afternoons for margaritas.
She spared a glance in her mothers direction and immediately felt the sting of her heated gaze. Well, sorry, Ma.
Im kind of disappointed to hear that, Rosalie, Bryce said. I was hoping we could put the past behind us.
Rosalie let out a long breath and with it, some of the anger trapped in her chest. Bryce, I hope you become the best football coach this town has ever known. And I hope you get as much out of this job as you can. I really do. But as far as you and I are concerned, the past will always be an issue. It wont go away. It shaped us, made us who we are. And I wont let your coming back to town change the woman Ive become now. I cant.
He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her an intense stare. Rosalie, Ricky was the best friend I ever had, he said so only she could hear. You were the second-best until one day you became so much more. I cant forget that. I dont want to forget it.
Then youll have to live with it any way you can. Thats what Ive had to do.
He started to say something but stopped when two cars pulled into the lot. Excited passengers spilled out of the doors and headed to the stand. Bryce gave her one last look, filled with sadness and longing. Ill see you around, Rosie-girl, he said, calling her by a former pet name. But its all just a damn shame.
That we can agree on, she said.
He said goodbye to Claudia, got in his truck and drove off. And Rosalie began greeting customers. Anything to avoid the censure in her mothers eyes and an old longing that was trying to squeeze its way into her heart.
Chapter Four
Live with it any way you can.
Those words spoken by Rosalie at the Campano produce stand yesterday continued to haunt Bryce as he dressed in shorts and a T-shirt for his first official visit to Whistler Creek High Schools athletic building. Without giving his mother a chance to discuss the real estate deal hed entered into Sunday afternoon, he gave her a peck on her cheek, poured himself a mug of coffee and dashed out the door to his truck. He didnt feel up to another argument this morning.
What is it exactly that Rosalie expects of me? he said aloud as he drove down the wide country road bordered by estate homes and green patches of rich, fertile farmland.
Obviously nothing, you thickheaded dolt!
The trucks air-conditioning blasted him over the rim of the mug as he took a swig of steaming coffee. And why the hell cant you leave it at that? he added, setting the cup into the drink holder.
Of course, he knew the answer to that question. Once Rosalie had mattered to him more than any other person hed ever known. She and Ricky had been his constant companions for years. And then, one brilliant spring day at the end of their senior year in high school, hed realized he was crazy in love with Rosie. Nothing in his life so far had equaled the pure, sweet jubilation, nor packed the emotional wallop, of that moment.
Thinking back now, it seemed to Bryce that Rosalie had come to the same conclusion as he had at the exact same minute in time on the momentous morning one day after their senior prom. Neither of their dates had made it to the ritual breakfast, this year hosted at the Benton home on Little River Road. Rosalies date, nursing a headache from too much booze the night before, had gone to church at his parents insistence. Bryces date, the girl hed been with since his junior year, had slept in, refusing to even pick up the phone when hed called that morning to rouse her.
Suddenly finding themselves stag at a date affair, and totally comfortable with each other, Bryce and Rosalie had wandered into the peach orchard with two wineglasses, a pitcher of fresh orange juice and a chilled bottle of champagne Bryce had pilfered from his fathers wine cellar. Theyd laughed at the pop of the cork and jumped back as the frothing liquid had poured from the bottle, sending sparkles of golden wine over Rosalies flowered sundress.
Bryce made the mimosas a little strong, handed Rosalie a glass and suggested they wrap their arms in a traditional romantic toast. All fun and games, right? Theyd sipped and smiled at each other as if they were Hollywood romance legends. Rosalie had batted those long black lashes that every girl in high school had envied, and Bryce leaned in to give her a kiss on her cheek. Thats what hed intended. Only the force of some crazy cosmic collision seemed to take control of his body and hed claimed her lips. To this day he didnt know why. He only knew that when their mouths touched, hers soft as the peach-scented breeze that morning, his greedy and seeking, nothing had ever been the same.
Bryce navigated the moderate traffic of downtown Whistler Creek to the high school and parked in the lot reserved for teachers. Only one other car was there, a gray SUV with a faculty sticker on the windshield. He took cartons from the back of his truck, loaded them onto a two-wheeled cart and walked past the high school. Taking the track around the football field, he came to the freestanding athletic center where his office was located. The building had been dedicated ten years earlier, thanks to public tax dollars, corporate donations and too many bake sales to count.
Dexter Canfield had given Bryce a key to the facility, so he unlocked the door and went inside. The smells of sweat and socks and the indefinable scent of masculine dreams greeted him as he walked down a short hallway decorated with commemorative bricks inscribed with contributor names. Bryce stopped long enough to read the name Benton Farms in the short list of $5,000 benefactors. He entered the first office on the right where the name plaque on the door already said Coach Benton.
The office had been cleaned out in preparation for his takeover. Someone had spackled over reminders of the previous occupants certificates and photos. Fresh beige paint covered the walls. The large metal desk in the center of the room was free of clutter, and Bryce found the drawers empty. He set his cartons on top of the desk and began taking out his belongings and stacking files and documents in some sort of manageable order.
He would hang his diplomas and framed recognitions on the wall behind the desk. Research materials and empty file folders waiting for paperwork on players went into the plain gray file cabinet. He spread his playbooks and coaching charts on top of the desk, sat in the utilitarian metal chair and flipped through the material, deciding which formations would work for a coach starting up with a new team.
After a couple hours, he took a break to simply appreciate being where hed always wanted to end up. He stared out a wide window that overlooked the field where, in a short time, hed teach a bunch of raw players to become productive team members. One adult wearing shorts and a polo shirt stood on the sideline while two teens practiced pitching and catching a baseball in the center of the practice area.
Bryce spread his hands on the desktop and watched the interplay between the man and the boys. The man was obviously coaching. Bryce understood the connection between a coach and his players. He understood what each meant to the other, how each player individually was a vital link to the success of the whole. How parents and family and friends contributed to what happened on the field.
He imagined Bucky Lowell in this office and figured he probably had had pictures of his family on this desk, images that comforted and supported him. Bryce had no pictures to put here, no wife or children to think of while he made decisions that affected so many lives and dreams. Audrey had taken his dream of kids away from him.
He sighed. Maybe, if the house deal went through, hed get a dog, a photogenic one. And maybe, if he got really lucky, hed marry again and have those couple of kids hed always wanted. And then quite unexpectedly, an image of Rosalie came to his mind, the way she looked nowgrown up but still with a youthful sultriness that took his breath despite the sadness of the past in her eyes. He shook his head. Dont even go there, Bryce, he said. The woman has made her attitude about you perfectly clear.
He left his office and wandered onto the practice field where the informal baseball session was still going on. The adult waved him over and stuck out his hand when Bryce approached. Coach Benton, the man said. Welcome to Whistler Creek. Or, welcome back I should say.
Bryce shook hands. Thanks. Its been a long time.
Im Ted Fanning, baseball coach, the man said. This will be my third year on the faculty.
Nice to meet you. Bryce shielded his eyes and looked at the boys on the field. I guess those are a couple of your stars?
Thats right. He pointed. Watch that pitcher. Hell knock your socks off.
Bryce observed the kid wind up and let loose with a curveball that seemed good enough to have been computer generated. Wow. The kids good.
You bet he is. Coach Fanning cupped his hands around his mouth. Lets see a fastball, Danny!
The boy obliged and Bryce whistled in appreciation. Damn. That pitch had to be nearly eighty miles an hour.
Fanning grinned. Ive clocked him at eighty-two. And how about that accuracy? The catcher barely has to move his arm. And the best thing is, I dont have to worry about the kids dedication. Here it is, off-season, and he practically begs me for extra practice time.
Bryce continued to watch the phenom pitcher with mounting admiration. How old is he?
Hard to believe, but hes only going to be a freshman this year. Again the grin. Ill have him four more years. A coachs dream.
Yeah, and definite quarterback material. Bryce couldnt help fantasizing about seeing the kid in a football practice jersey. Hed already determined that the quarterback spot on the Wildcats would be up for grabs at the end of the current season. And he had no good prospect coming up the ranks. Unless
Ah, tell me something, Coach, he said.
Sure thing.
Do you think this kid might be interested in playing football along with baseball?
Fannings smile faded. Youre not thinking of taking my player, are you?
I wouldnt put it that way, Bryce said. Just thought maybe he could do both.
Fanning scratched his head. Youre seeing him in a quarterback spot, arent you?
Hes got the arm for it.
Fanning thought a moment. The seasons dont overlap. And hes certainly dedicated enough to go through additional training.
Bryce sensed a but on the tip of Fannings tongue. He waited. So what is it? You dont want to share him?
I dont want a football injury affecting his pitching arm. And
And what? Bryce said.
I know this kids mother, and I dont think shed be in favor of him playing football. She thinks its dangerous.
Bryce didnt see that as a big problem. Hed persuaded reluctant parents into getting over football phobias before. Id talk to her, he said.
You could try, but shes also a stickler for grades.
Is the kid smart enough to handle the load of schoolwork and two sports?
I suppose, but this mom is a special case. Fannings expression became wary. Shes going to be a hard sell, and I ought to know. Im kind of dating her.
He announced the end of the practice session and Bryce kept his sights on the pitcher as the boys crossed the field. Never hurts to ask though, does it? he said to Ted.
Go ahead. Talk to him.
Fanning put his hand on the boys shoulder. Nice workout, fellas. By the way, this is Whistler Creeks new football coach, boys. Coach Benton.
The teen whod been catching Dannys pitches said hi and excused himself to head for the showers. Danny remained. He wiped his palm on his shorts and shook hands with Bryce. He was tall, only a couple inches shorter than Bryce. Definitely tall enough to fit the bill as QB. And there could still be a growth spurt in his future.
Ive heard about you, Danny said.
And Ive been watching you, Bryce said. Good pitching style youve developed there.
Danny kicked a clod of dirt with his cleat. Thanks.
Fanning looked from one to the other. As a matter of fact, Danny, Coach here was wondering if you might be interested in playing for the football team.
The boys eyes widened. Really?
Well, weve been kicking the idea around, Bryce said. There would have to be tryouts.
The instantaneous enthusiasm faded from the boys eyes. I dont know how my mom would like the idea. Her brother
Danny paused, and a fifteen-year-old pain coiled in Bryces gut. Who is your mother, Danny?
She teaches at the high school, he said. You ah, you know her. Miss Campano, the English teacher.
Bryce could only gawk at Danny as if the kid had suddenly sprouted a second head. Youre Rosalies son? he repeated needlessly.
Yeah.
Damn. Bryces goal of nabbing the ideal quarterback suddenly didnt even seem a remote possibility. Of course Rosie wouldnt want her kid playing football. Of course she wouldnt want him playing for Bryce.
He walked Fanning a few steps away from Danny and spoke so only the coach could hear. Do you know my connection to Rosalies brother? he asked.
Ive heard, but I dont want to get in the middle of this. Fanning rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. History can sure come back to bite you in the ass, cant it, Coach?
Bryce realized he must look witless. He tried to smile at Danny Campano. Nice meeting you, Danny, he said. Ill see you around.
As he walked back to the athletic center, Bryce wondered how fortune could be so fickle. Show him a shining future star and then snuff it out behind a giant rain cloud. But what bothered him just as much was why he kept thinking about what Fanning had said about Rosalie. I ought to know. Im kind of dating her.
When Rosalie pulled into the high school lot, she immediately noticed the familiar tricked-out black pickup parked under the shade of an old oak tree.
Great, she muttered to herself and chose a spot several spaces away. She backed in, turned off her engine and looked at her watch. A little before noon. If Danny was on time, a rarity when he was practicing, shed see him sprinting across the practice field in just a few minutes. Hopefully they would be on their way home before Bryce returned to his truck.
Unfortunately the male figure she saw moments later wasnt Danny. Even from a distance, Rosalie recognized the features of the man who had been her childhood friend, her teenage companion and her eventual heartthrob. She lowered her sunglasses and stared, allowing herself the guilty pleasure of enjoying the natural grace of his walk, the confident swagger in his step. She smirked to herself. The man was still just too darned sexy for his own good.
She couldnt look at Bryce without remembering that morning after the prom and the scent of peaches mingling with his crisp, clean aftershave. She couldnt look at him without recalling the first mind-blowing kiss in the orchard, the first time his hands teased tingles of pleasure out of her eager young body. The first time he She squeezed her eyes shut. As always, the most tender memory of all was obliterated by the image of her brother unconscious on the ground, the sound of her own sobs and the cry of anguish from Bryces lips.
Her senses on overdrive and her emotions on edge, she urged herself to stay in control. She had to expect to see Bryce often. Shed managed to run into him all three days since his surprise appearance Friday night. But she didnt want to see him again so soon, and not around Danny.
She slumped into her seat, grabbed a novel from the dashboard and opened to her bookmarked page. Even if Bryce realized she was in the car, perhaps hed notice she was preoccupied and would politely get in his vehicle and leave.
Of course, she didnt read a word. She kept her gaze intent on the page, but when, a few agonizing minutes later, she heard Bryces subtle step on the blacktop, any possibility of actually comprehending a sentence flew right out her open window. When she heard the truck door open, her face flushed all the way to the roots of her hair. When the door slammed, she released the breath shed been holding. He was leaving. She frowned as she listened for the sound of his engine revving. Would she be thankful or disappointed?
Jeez, Rosalie, what is it that you want?
Hey, Rosalie, I thought this was your car.
Her head snapped up. She swallowed a gasp and looked into the lenses of Bryces aviator sunglasses. He hadnt left after all.
I looked for you but didnt see you in your car until I got in my truck, he said, leaning into her window. We seem to be running into each other everywhere these days.
She faked a grin. Yeah. What are the odds in a town this size?
He removed his glasses and pointed an earpiece toward the athletic building. Oh, I met your boy today.
Her stomach plunged.
Nice kid. Talented, too. He can really throw a baseball.
She pressed the flat of her hand over her abdomena protective gesture, but protective of what? The secret she still harbored? Thats what they tell me.
He put on the glasses and peered at her over the lenses. And by the way, I met your other fella, too.
My other fella?
Ted, the baseball coach. He says you and he are going out.
Wonderful. Rosalie had accepted less than a half-dozen dates with Ted this summer. She hadnt told anyone but Shelby, and intended to keep any relationship with a coworker private. She made up her mind to speak to him as soon as possible about being discreet. Dont believe everything you hear, she said to Bryce.
Youre not dating him?
What Im not doing is discussing this with you, she said, forcing what she hoped was a hint of casual humor into her answer.
Okay. He stared over at the field and raised his hand in a wave. Looks like Dannys coming now.
Thank goodness. Now to get Bryce to his truck and Danny out of here before old home week continued. She heard the cell phone ringtone of Bruce Springsteens Born to Run and glanced at Bryces pocket. Shouldnt you get that? she asked.
He pulled his phone out and checked the caller ID. Yeah, its my real estate agent. We may have an answer to my offer on the Harbin place. He headed toward his truck. See you, Rosie.
She took her first normal breath in minutes as she watched her son lope around the track toward the parking lot. Tall, olive-skinned, dark-haired. Danny looked more like his uncle Ricky than he did his father, a fact which allowed her confidence to return. If she could just keep Danny and Bryce apart, Bryce would never suspect.
Her mind flashed back to the two weeks after that first kiss in the peach orchard, the day a most unexpected jolt of love had zeroed in on her heart. Two weeks later, she still marveled that Bryce Benton, a boy shed always loved in the way sisters do, was all at once the young man she now truly loved in the way sisters never could. There had been no doubt in Rosalies mind that Bryce was the one. She couldnt wait until he made love to her. Bryce was worthy of her most precious gift, and she was determined to give it to him before he went off to college.
She went to her brother and confided her plan to him. He was the logical one in the Campano family to advise her since her father and mother would have had a tough time accepting that their daughter was planning to lose her virginity before the sacred bond of marriage.
Ricky had no such qualms. You need to get on the Pill, Rosie, he told her. Thats what Beth uses. Guys really dont like to use condoms. And you dont have to worry about Bryce having something. I know for a fact that hes only been with one other girl.
The Pill. A prescription was needed, so she did what she believed was right even considering her parents traditional views. With only two weeks until Bryce would leave for summer training at the University of Texas, she asked her mother to accompany her to the doctors office. She believed Claudia would consent. After all, this was Bryce, and Claudia loved him, too.
Claudia staunchly refused to consent to birth control pills, saying Enzo would be horrified at this decision. She couldnt go against his wishes. Unfortunately for Rosalie, the family doctor wouldnt prescribe the pills otherwise. Coming up with a backup plan to try an out-of-area clinic on her own, Rosalie drove to Valdosta, thirty miles away. Once again the prescription was denied.
But Rosalie had promised Bryce that she would be on the Pill in time for the special night hed planned when his parents were going to be out of town. So she went to the Benton home with only a flimsily wrapped foil package shed discovered in the back of Rickys nightstand drawer.
And then she didnt even offer the condom to Bryce. Too embarrassed at failing to get the pills. Too in love for the first time in her life. Too caught up in the passion of a moment that promised to fulfill all her preconceived notions about love and sex. Later, Rosalie wondered why shed let those reasons lead her into having unprotected sex and trusting in the most fickle of outcomes.
Even then, everything might have worked out if only that football hadnt rocketed from Bryces hand into Rickys temple the very next day. If only Ricky hadnt died minutes later. Less than twenty-four hours after making love with Bryce, Rosalie lost her brother. The fear and hatred of football, which shed experienced ever since that day, took root in her soul. And she knew her love for Bryce Benton would be forever tarnished.
Hi, Mom. Sorry Im late.
Danny hopped in the car and Rosalie switched mental gears to be a mother again. No problem, she said and started the car.
Danny slanted a gaze at her. I think Ive made a decision today, he said.
Oh? Whats that?
She was heading out of the parking lot when Danny responded, and she very nearly ran into the majestic old oak tree that had recently shaded Bryces truck.
.
.
, (https://www.litres.ru/cynthia-thomason/his-most-important-win-39921010/) .
Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, , , , PayPal, WebMoney, ., QIWI , .
Cynthia Thomason
Dare to dream these sparkling romances will make you laugh, cry and fall in love again and again!When it comes to love hes playing for keepsBryce is living in his small hometown; back coaching his old team; and back in love with his high-school sweetheart. But this time around, hes determined not to lose Rosalies heart ever again. Only problem is, Bryces first love has been keeping a big secret from him all these years.And when he discovers the son Rosalie never told him about, the betrayal may just be too painful. Then again, true love can change everything. And if Bryce has anything to say about it, this is a game that theyll all win together.
I know one other thing. Im not going to wait another fifteen years before I kiss you again.
His mouth settled on hers. His lips were soft and warm and inviting. As sweet as a first kiss. But then everything changed and the boy in her mind became a fully grown version of the person shed loved. His mouth ravaged hers, exploring, igniting a young girls passion into a womans need. The sensation of being devoured by that hot, hungry kiss tingled through her body and she answered it with equal passion. It was like coming home and finding a treasure shed thought shed lost.
He planted a swift kiss on her temple.
By the way, he said. Ill be sleeping here from tomorrow night on. Just in case you get some ideas in the middle of the night that cant wait.
She already had one, and she was pretty sure he knew what it was.
Dear Reader,
What a thrill it is to write this first reader letter as a Mills & Boon
author. I am so grateful to my agent, Kevan Lyon, and my editor, Charles Griemsman, for making this happen. I have always wanted to write a book about high school teachers and coaches, and now this dream is a reality. I was once a high school English teacher like Rosalie, the heroine of this book. Perhaps my involvement with teens and sports explains why Ive always had a bit of a love affair with football coaches. There is something about the caged energy they display on the sidelinesa tense expectation that can translate in a second to fist-pumping jubilation. How rewarding it must be to guide young men into adulthood.
This book also explores my first attempt at writing a teenager as the secret baby my heroine raised. I hope you enjoy Danny. Its easy to love a cute little baby, but a teenager with all that angst and willfulnessif youve had one, you know.
Welcome to Whistler Creek, Georgia. Enjoy your stay.
Cynthia
I love to hear from readers. Please send me your reaction to His Most Important Win at Cynthoma@aol.com. Or visit my website, cynthiathomason.com.
About the Author
CYNTHIA THOMASON writes contemporary and historical romances and dabbles in mysteries. She has won a National Readers Choice Award and the 2008 Golden Quill. When shes not writing, she works as a licensed auctioneer for the auction company she and her husband own. As an estate buyer for the auction, she has come across unusual items, many of which have found their way into her books. She has one son, an entertainment reporter. Cynthia dreams of perching on a mountaintop in North Carolina every autumn to watch the leaves turn. You can read more about her at her website, www.cynthiathomason.com.
His Most
Important Win
Cynthia Thomason
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to the memory of my loving parents, Barbara and Bert Brackett, who never missed a high school football game under the Friday night lights of Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio.
Chapter One
Rosalie pulled into one of the last remaining spots in the parking lot, got out of her car and checked her watch. Three minutes, she grumbled. Ill just make it if I run. She still had no idea why the high school principal had called this emergency meeting. His secretary had said he wanted as many of his faculty members who were in town to attend, so Rosalie had missed a lasagna dinner with her mother and her son to be here.
Hey, Rosalie, wait up.
Spotting her friend and fellow teacher coming across the pavement, Rosalie motioned for Shelby to hustle. At least theres someone whos even later than I am, she said when Shelby had fallen into step beside her. Do you know what this is about?
No clue, Shelby said. But Id rather be anywhere but here. The last thing I want to think about in July is school.
Rosalie held the door open to the three-story brick building and let Shelby go in ahead of her. I hope Canfields not expecting us to volunteer for landscaping duty this summer, she said. Im working more hours at Moms produce stand, and Ive increased my hours at the Brighter Day Center.
Whys that? Have there been any deaths in town recently that I havent heard about?
No, but grief is an ongoing thing. The more we volunteers can counsel grieving kids at the center, the faster they can get on with their lives.
Shelby frowned. I wonder if being around all that sadness is really good for you, Rosalie.
Its been sixteen years since my brother died, Shel.
Okay, message received. Forget I said anything.
They approached the media center at the end of the schools main hallway. The doors were open. Rosalie caught the subtle aroma of old books, always a welcoming scent to English teachers or anyone who spent a good part of their childhood nestled in a corner of a library. Once they entered the room, the delicious mustiness would be combined with the even subtler smell of modern-day plastic coming from the bank of computers taking up an entire wall.
The media center was buzzing with activity. Apparently Principal Canfields calling tree system had worked. Rosalie estimated that nearly three-quarters of the faculty were present along with dozens of booster parents and prominent citizens.
Dexter Canfield, dressed in tan pants and a golf shirt, stood behind the media directors desk chatting with a group of Whistler Creeks most influential citizens including Roland Benton, owner of the towns largest employer, Benton Farms. When Canfield pounded a gavel, the hundred or so attendees stared up at him. Rosalie and Shelby spoke quick greetings to fellow faculty members and took seats in the back.
In his most impressive baritone, the voice Canfield reserved for public address announcements and greetings at halftime sporting events, he thanked everyone for coming and assured the crowd they would not be disappointed. Wasting no time, he proclaimed that a stroke of unbelievable good fortune had befallen the town of Whistler Creek.
We all regret the recent retirement of Bucky Lowell, he said. Heads nodded. The revered football coach had been an institution at Whistler Creek High for as long as Rosalie could remember. At the end of the last school year, on the advice of his doctor, the seventy-three-year-old Bucky had stowed away his whistle and closed his game book for the last time. Since then speculations had run wild about who the board would hire to replace him. The man had never had a losing season, a record no other Georgia high school coach had achieved.
Well, hang on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen, Canfield said, because Buckys replacement is waiting to come into the room. He signed a contract yesterday, and I think youll all agree that the Wildcats couldnt have made a better pick if wed ordered his credentials from the Almighty.
Rosalie studied the expressions of those around her. Some faculty members chuckled. Others shook their heads in bewilderment. A few mumbled guesses about who could possibly fill the shoes of the great Bucky. And then the wait was over. Canfield went to the door of a storage room, opened it wide and in stepped one of Whistler Creeks native sons and former honored gridiron star. He was also the heir to Benton Farms, the areas largest agribusiness and supplier of produce to much of the U.S. Southeast.
When recognition dawned among the old-timers, enthusiastic applause broke out. And Rosalie couldnt seem to draw a breath. It couldnt be. It was. Bryce Benton, wearing a Texas Tech Athletic T-shirt and ball cap, strode to the desk and stood with his hands clasped in front of him waiting for Dexter Canfield to say something.
Rosalie hadnt spoken to Bryce in over fifteen years. Shed only spotted him in town a couple times since hed left for college, and shed always turned the other way. But looking at him now, exuding a casual confidence that came with pedigree, adulation and just the right amount of sun-weathered texture to his skin, she felt the years melt away. She swallowed. For all her efforts to move on with her life, she could have been seventeen again.
Shed never dreamed Bryce would give up his career at Texas Tech. But here he was. For some inexplicable reason, hed apparently chosen to abandon his upward climb at the university to come home and coach at little old Whistler Creek High. Bryce was the onetime all-state wide receiver of the Whistler Creek Wildcats, the future agribusiness magnate and, most important, devastating to Rosalie on so many levels, he was her son Dannys biological father.
Shelby snickered. What the hell is Canfield doing? Looks like hes bringing his prize stallion into the show ring for all to admire. She nudged Rosalie in her ribs. And he definitely is a prize!
Somehow Rosalie found her voice. You dont know Bryce, do you?
Shelby, whod come to Whistler Creek only three years before, grinned. Not yet. Is he single?
Divorced. Whistler Creek was a small town, and over the years the most important details of Bryces life had filtered down to Rosalie. Not that shed asked to hear them.
She stared at the tabletop in front of her. She couldnt look at him, couldnt stand to watch that ruggedly handsome face turn smug with the praise of a public that had obviously forgotten all the details of Bryces background. Forgotten or forgiven.
Thinking back to when she was a gullible teenager, she felt a flush of shame heat her cheeks. She had once believed she was in love with Bryce Benton, the very same guy whod just allowed himself to be paraded into the limelight of his expectant hometown crowd as if he were Dexter Canfields gift to the people of Whistler Creek.
Some mistakes could never be lived down. And some just hurt forever.
Standing in front of people hed never met before as well as old friends he hadnt seen in years, Bryce felt like a damn fool. Canfield had told him to wait in the wings until hed made the announcement just so he could pique the interest of the crowd. Bryce had argued that such a plan was ridiculous, but in the end, hed let Canfield have his way thinking maybe it was better that Dexter prepared the crowd for the return of a prodigal son. Bryce had only come home to Whistler Creek a couple dozen times in the last fifteen years. Now, with something like one hundred pairs of eyes drilling into him, he knew hed been manipulated into being the featured sideshow event for Canfields three-ring circus.
He shook his head, raised his hands palms up in an effort to stop the flow of excited chatter that filled the room. When hed been offered the job to replace Bucky, hed jumped at the chance. Coaching at Whistler Creek was what he wanted. His goal since college had always been to mentor and guide high school kids on the verge of manhood and possible greatness. Despite the tragedy that would always haunt him, coming home to the town and school that had nurtured him through the years had been the fulfillment of a dream. Now he felt like a trick pony waiting to be led through his paces.
Beaming at Bryce, Canfield said, I coaxed him away from Texas Tech, and I wanted all of you to share in this victory for the Whistler Creek High Athletic Department.
Coaxed him away, Bryce thought. Hed taken a ten thousand a year pay cut to be here, and still signed on the bottom line without a moments hesitation. Most people would say he should have his head examined.
But Bryce gambled on possibilities. And the options for changing lives at the head coaching level at Whistler Creek far surpassed those as the assistant offensive coach at Texas Tech. And then there was his dad, who was sitting here tonight. His health had suffered a blow. He needed his son, wanted him to come home.
He looked into his dads eyes now, saw the pride there and took a deep breath. Folks, you all have a seat. This isnt so much a celebration as a chance to get acquainted. Or reacquainted as is the case with many of you.
Are you kidding, Bryce, the president of the Georgia State Bank shouted from the side of the room. This could be the best football season weve ever had.
Bryce tried to smile and slanted a glance at Bucky Lowell who sat nearby. I dont know about that, Bryce said, gesturing at Bucky. Coach Lowell here has left me some pretty big shoes to fill, so lets not get ahead of ourselves. Weve all got a lot of work to do. The players, the coaching staff, most of all, me. I think we should save the celebrating until we get a few wins under our belts.
Dexter Canfield continued to grin like the top salesman on a used car lot. Now you see why I called you here today. We appreciate everything Bucky has done for this program, but today is the beginning of a new era for Whistler Creek athletics. We need to start now, preparing our boys, getting behind our new coach, redoubling our efforts as Wildcat parents and supporters.
I appreciate all the enthusiasm tonight and in the future, Bryce said. But lets remember that the ones who need our support most are the young men wholl soon sweat their guts out on the field once practice starts. He paused before adding, Football in Whistler Creek always has been, and will continue to be, a community effort. Thanks for coming today and for giving me this welcome. But as far as Im concerned, you can all go on home now, knowing that my office in the athletic building is always open.
He remembered the furor surrounding games in the past and doubted Bucky had kept that same open-door policy for his many years at Whistler. Bryce hoped he wouldnt regret making that statement.
As the meeting wound down, he endured countless handshakes and pats on the back before the last of his well-wishers left the media center. Then he said goodbye to Canfield and walked with his father to the school parking lot. When they stepped into the humid July air of a South Georgia evening, Bryce took his dads elbow and held him back. Lets wait until everyone is in their cars, he said.
Roland Benton smiled. A little uncomfortable with all this excitement, are you, son?
Yeah. I didnt anticipate this kind of welcome. Ive been gone a long time.
True, but youve always wanted to come back.
Bryce waved to a man who put down his car window and gave him a thumbs-up sign. I didnt think it would be like this. You know how it is, Dad. When expectations run too high, everyone can end up disappointed and disillusioned.
Just do your job, Bryce, Roland said. No one can ask more. And no one should expect more than your best effort. He smiled. Thats all youll ask of the players, right?
True enough. Seeing the parking lot emptying out, Bryce stepped onto the pavement. He saw two women chatting between cars about a hundred feet down the lot. He stared for a moment before a familiar pang pierced his heart. Could it be? He recognized the lush curls of black hair that fell to one womans shoulders. Dad, isnt that Rosalie Campano?
Roland squinted. Sure is.
Is her mother still running her produce stand on Fox Hollow Road?
Yes, indeed. Claudia is one of our best local customers. Rosalie still lives with her. You know Rosalie teaches at the high school now?
Yeah. Mom told me that a few years back. I should have known shed be here when I heard Canfield had called the faculty out for this show. Bryce had thought a lot about Rosalie over the years. Shed been an important part of his life at one timeuntil the day hed brought so much grief into hers.
Rosalie laughed as she carried on a conversation with the other woman. Bryce recalled the bright, bubbly sound of her voice. Is her name still Campano? he asked.
You mean did she ever get married?
Yeah.
No. Shes single. Came close a time or two from what I understand, but it didnt work out.
Rosalie had never married? Bryce tried to rein in his careening thoughts. Roland took Bryces arm and gently tugged him toward their car parked in the opposite direction.
Wait, Bryce said, knowing he could be treading on emotional quicksand. I want to say hello.
Maybe nows not a good time
Why not? Im going to be seeing a lot of Rosalie. Well be working in the same building, maybe teaching some of the same kids. Bryce was already several steps ahead of his dad. Nows the perfect time.
It was crazy. Bryce knew that. But the closer he got to Rosalie, the more his heart pounded. For Petes sake. It had been almost sixteen years since Ricky had died. Theyd each gone on with their lives. But heck, she was right there across the lot, where she couldnt refuse his phone calls. Bryce always wondered if maybe hed get the chance to tell her again how sorry he was for what happened. So he quickened his footsteps.
And then she looked up and trapped his gaze. It was only a quick glance, almost as if she hadnt noticed him at all. But her smile faded and she turned again to her friend, said something brief and got in her car. Bryce stopped dead. Before he could have reached her, shed backed her red compact car out of its space and was headed to the street.
And for the second time that night, Bryce felt like an idiot.
Chapter Two
Shortly after the meeting at the high school broke up, Rosalie came in the back door of the home she still lived in with her mother. She reached down and scratched behind Dixies ear. The golden retriever nuzzled her soft nose against Rosalies jeans. The scent of fresh baked bread and pungent Italian spices filled the welcoming kitchen. A half-filled dish of lasagna sat on the table along with the remains of a salad in a seasoned wooden bowl. Rosalie called out, Mom, you here?
Drying her hands on a towel, Claudia came out of the pantry. Theres plenty of lasagna left, Rosalie, she said. Ill heat up a plateful if youre hungry.
No, thanks. Im going out in a little while.
Oh? You seeing Ted?
Her mother was one of the few people who knew Rosalie had accepted a few dates with Whistler Creek Highs baseball coach. Rosalie tried to keep her personal life private. No. Hes got his kids this weekend. Im meeting Shelby downtown at the Creek Side Tavern. She stepped to the entry to the living room and looked around. Is Danny here?
No. His friends picked him up twenty minutes ago.
Rosalie sighed with relief, pulled out a kitchen chair and slumped into it. Good. I dont have to pretend that everythings okay then.
You certainly dont have to pretend with me, Claudia said. Ive already heard. Sharon Potter was at the meeting and she called me when she got home.
Then you know about our new football coach.
I know. Claudia shook her head. I always thought Bryce would come back here, especially after his divorce. And now his father had that bypass surgery
Rosalie blew out a long breath. I always prayed he wouldnt return.
Claudia pulled out a chair and sat across the table from her daughter. Dont borrow trouble, Rosalie. Just because Bryce is back doesnt mean that anything has to change.
Rosalie sighed deeply. I think everything will change, for me at least. Ill have to face him at school every day this fall and I might even run into him at Benton Farms when I go there to pick up your produce orders.
Then a startling realization occurred to her and she stared at her mother. Like tomorrow, she said. I promised you Id go to Bentons in the morning. What if Bryce is there?
Claudia squeezed her hand. I dont know where Bryce is staying, but even if he is out at his parents place, you can go to the market early, before most normal people are even out of bed.
Rosalie nodded. Yeah, I can do that. But Mom, having Bryce return to Whistler Creek feels a little like adding gasoline to a long-simmering fire. She raised her hands. Ka-boom.
Youre jumping to conclusions, Rosalie. The secret has remained buried since Danny was born. Thats a long time. Only four people are alive in this town who even know that Bryce is Dannys father. None of us has ever broken the promise we made that night. She frowned and looked away.
Rosalie recalled that stressful meeting at the Benton home nearly sixteen years ago. Claudia Campano had briefly argued in favor of letting Bryce know about Rosalies pregnancy, but she had quickly capitulated to everyone elses desires.
Rosalie picked up a slice of bread from a basket at the center of the table and began shredding it. I wish I were as confident as you, Mom. But in the back of my mind I picture Bryce coming face-to-face with Danny, and just, well, knowing. Like this cosmic bond will connect the two of them.
Claudia took the mutilated bread from Rosalies hand. Thats not going to happen, honey. Weve always been careful. Growing up, Danny never questioned your story about his father.
Thats because Poppa was still alive and he was the only father Danny ever needed. He was better to Danny than anyone else could have been. Rosalie clasped her hands on top of the table. I never told you, Mom, but last year, a few months after Poppa died, Danny asked me about his real father.
And what did you tell him?
I kept up the pretense Id established beforethat his father and I only knew each other a short time. That was a lie. Shed known Bryce all her life. That we were only together one time. That was the truth. That his father was not ready to assume the responsibility of a baby. That was the truth. And I told Danny again that I loved him from the moment I knew he existed, and you and Poppa loved him as if he were your own, too.
Claudia nodded. And was Danny satisfied?
I guess. I appeased him by promising that later, if he wanted to try and find his father, I would help him do that. Of course, I hoped that he would never ask.
And he hasnt, Claudia said. Just because Bryce is back in town doesnt have to mean anything. The physical resemblance is almost nonexistent. Danny need never know. Her eyes widened as her lips turned up in a strange sort of smile. Unless you decide to tell him.
What? Mom, I cant see that as a possibility. Rosalie pressed her finger against the bridge of her nose where a headache was just beginning to form. I wish I didnt have this feeling of foreboding, like something terrible is going to happen.
Give this some time, Rosalie. Bryce will settle in. Youll continue with your lifeyour teaching and your volunteer duties. Ive always believed that things just work out for the besteventually. She touched Rosalies cheek. Now, go. Get ready to meet your friends. You need to get your mind on something else.
Rosalie stood, pushed her chair under the table. I dont think Im going to be good company. She headed toward the living room but turned around when her mother said her name. Something else, Mom?
Did you talk to him, honey?
No. After the meeting he came toward me in the parking lot. I panicked, got in my car and drove away. She bit her bottom lip. Shed never admit that certain instincts, long suppressed, had almost caused her to wait for him to reach her. I wasnt ready to face him, she said. I dont think I ever will be.
Claudia nodded. Time will tell.
Whats that supposed to mean? Its been more than fifteen years. And tonight I learned that all time has told me is that I still react to Bryce Benton.
Trying to put Bryce out of her mind, she went down the hallway toward her room, the cozy, familiar, rosy space that had been her private sanctum all her life. On the way, she stopped at another door, put her hand on the knob and took a deep breath. Her brothers old room, which was now Dannys. For three months after Ricky had died, Rosalie hadnt been able to even look inside this space. Her father, in his attempt to heal his family, had eventually gone in and packed up many of the items Ricky had treasured. He hadnt asked the women of his family to help.
But there had been practical matters to consider. A family had to move on. A baby was coming. Theyd ordered a crib and other essentials. This room was needed for the future of the Campano family.
Rosalie turned the knob and opened the door. Although other mementos of Ricky existed in the housein her mothers room and the living roomthe only reminder of Ricky in this space now was a photo of him in his Wildcat uniform. Danny had insisted on keeping the photo of his Uncle Ricardo, whom hed never met, on that hutch above his desk.
Rosalie walked into the room and picked up the photo, which was both comfortingly familiar and achingly sad. She smiled at the image of her second half, the other part of her. With his football helmet tucked against his side, his shoulders unnaturally wide and strong under the padding, his dark hair military short as if hed prepared for the battle on the football field, Ricky was the picture of invincible confidence.
She touched the tip of her finger to the letters of his jersey. Shed been so proud of him, the Wildcats star quarterback, recipient of a scholarship to Florida State University. Even now, looking at his cocky smile, her heart melted.
I miss you, she said to the quiet room. She still felt his presence in every square foot of the Campano house, but especially here. Could anything really separate twins? Not time. Not even death.
Setting the photo back on the shelf, she looked around at the things that identified her Danny. A baseball bat signed by Alex Rodriquez. A weathered mitt hed outgrown after three seasons of Little League. Pictures of his heroes on the wallscurrent Atlanta Braves, legendary New York Yankees. A photo of Danny in his junior varsity baseball uniform. Soon that would be replaced by his freshman picture in a varsity uniform when he would take the mound as the Wildcats newest star pitcher.
By Dannys third birthday, Rosalie had known he would be an athlete. Hed had the passion, the determination and the skinned knees to prove it. When, at a very young age, he had picked up a football hed found in the park, her heart had seemed to stop beating for several long, painful seconds until shed taken it from his hands. That very day she brought him to the sporting goods store and introduced him to every other sport. Hed settled on baseball and shed encouraged him through all his years.
Shed never been sorry shed pushed him in that direction. Once, when he had mentioned trying out for the football team, she had discouraged him, saying his talents lay on the diamond, not the gridiron. Hed accepted her advice, and hed thrived. Hed proven himself. Most important, shed been able to watch his progress from the bleachers without fearing that the next moment, the next play, could alter his life forever. She couldnt go through that again. Much like she couldnt face Bryce Benton.
She closed the door to Dannys room and went to shower and dress. Shed make it an early night so she could do as her mother suggested and be at Benton Farms first thing the next morning. While Bryce and most of the world slept in, shed pick up her order and be gone.
Benton Farms was located five miles outside of Whistler Creek on a two-lane road that wound through rolling hills, green pastures and what real estate agents called some of the best farmland in America. At 6:50 a.m., after pulling on jeans and an old T-shirt and fastening her unruly hair in a clip, Rosalie sipped coffee from a thermal mug as she chugged along the sparsely populated route in the old pickup Claudia had purchased for her produce business.
Over the years Rosalie had managed to maintain a working relationship with the Bentons despite the heartache their son had brought into her life. And shed been grateful Danny had inherited the dark eyes and olive complexion of the Campanos and not the lighter skin tones and fair hair of the Bentons. No one in town had ever suspected that the onetime childhood friends, Rosie and Bryce, had ever conceived a child. And Rosalie had further protected her sons identity by slightly modifying his birth records.
Today she planned to be first in line to drive through the wholesale distribution section of Bentons corporate sales area which opened to local buyers at 7:00 a.m. Rising before dawn hadnt been a problem. After coming home from dinner with friends, Rosalie had slept restlessly. Finally shed kept one eyelid raised to her window, watching for the first hint of a pink sunrise on the eastern horizon.
Her mind raced with the possible ramifications of last evenings odd turn of events. Why had Bryce sacrificed his climb up the university coaching ladder? Did he miss his hometown that much? Did he feel an obligation to his parents? Had the divorce shed heard about set him back emotionally so that his return to Whistler Creek was as much a healing exercise as anything else? Rosalie could almost understand that explanation. She couldnt imagine living anywhere else herself.
But Bryce, at least the young man shed known and fancied herself in love with, had always displayed enough confidence to combat any of lifes trials. Surely he could handle news of his fathers declining health, the breakup of a marriage. After all, hed recovered easily enough from the death of his best friend.
And why had he approached her in the parking lot yesterday? Did he suspect the truth about her quick getawaythat shed seen him and was avoiding a face-to-face meeting? Shed tried to appear casual, spontaneous, as if she hadnt noticed him. She hoped hed believed that a sudden thought had occurred to her and shed naturally and without ulterior motive gotten into her car and sped away. And if not, did he suspect the other, more devastating truth, that facing him, dredging up memories, both good and bad, possibly initiating new ones, was the last thing she needed in her life?
Thankful that the electric gates had been parted a few minutes early, Rosalie drove onto Benton property and headed a quarter mile down the road toward the steel buildings that housed the wholesale division of Benton Farms. As she pulled up next to the overstuffed bins of vegetables, she noticed that she was the first local produce dealer to arrive. The usual farmhands, wearing the trademark green Benton Farms polo shirts, waved at her as they always did. She knew each of them would be willing to help her choose her stock and load it into the back of the truck.
She climbed out of the drivers seat and spoke to Juan Gonzalez. Hed been hired by Roland Benton to work under her fathers direction when Enzo Campano had supervised the wholesale area. Rosalie had known him since she was a little girl.
Juan, I need red peppers today and ten bushels of corn. Maybe eight pounds of Vidalia onions. She handed him her list.
I get you set up in no time, Miss Rosalie. He began loading cartons while she walked among the bins of rich, ripe crops recently harvested on Benton land.
She picked up a tomato and was deciding if this particular one was overripe when a hand settled lightly on her shoulder and a familiar voice spoke into her ear. Hello, Rosalie. Been a long time.
She jerked as if his fingers had delivered an electric shock to her nervous system, whirled around and dropped the tomato on the pavement. It exploded into a pulpy mass, which immediately attracted a number of tiny winged insects. Rosalie swallowed and looked up into clear blue eyes that had haunted her teenaged dreams. She swore under her breath. What the hell was Bryce doing out here at the crack of dawn? Her voice came out dry and tinny sounding when she frowned down at the mess by her sneaker. Sorry about that, she said.
Dressed in the same Benton Farms shirt as the other employees, Bryce grabbed a paper towel from a nearby dispenser and bent over to scoop up the mess. No problem. He swept his other hand over the loaded cartons of tomatoes. As you can see, we have a few others.
He tossed the soggy towel into a trash can and wiped his hand on his jeans. If hed planned to shake hands with her, he changed his mind. Thank goodness. Rosalie didnt need to test her reaction to another touch.
I saw you last night at the high school, he said.
She blinked a couple times, trying to blur the image of Bryces face that seemed determined to burn itself into her retina. Last night hed worn a ball cap low over his forehead, and hed been at the other side of the room. Today his features were clear, undiluted by shadow and the play of artificial light. And she would have known him anywhere. Just as she remembered, the corner of his mouth quirked up in an odd half grin. His eyes, nearly the rich color of blueberries, narrowed under thick, brown lashes. Strands of his hair, longer than she would have thought hed like and darker blond than she recalled, fell to the arch of his slightly darker eyebrows.
He continued to pin her with a disturbingly intense gaze as the grin broadened. Rosalie? You okay?
Of course he would ask that. Shed been standing for several awkward moments hoping her senses would return along with enough intelligible words so she wouldnt sound like an idiot. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. What had he said? Something about seeing her at the high school. Hunching one shoulder with feigned indifference, she said, I was there. Canfield wanted all the faculty to witness
She stopped, knowing she was about to finish the sentence with a biting example of sarcasm.
the spectacle? Bryce filled in for her.
I wasnt going to say that. Sure she wasnt. That was the exact word that had popped into her mind.
He chuckled. Well, thats what it was. Only an appearance by the Wildcat marching band could have been worse.
Obviously your return is viewed as a miracle by some people around here. Who better to take over for Bucky than a hometown football hero? A shudder rippled down Rosalies spine. She really hadnt meant to sound so unkind. A better plan would be to appear totally indifferent to Bryce.
I guess well see about that, he said.
Miss Rosalie! The call came from a few yards away.
She stood on tiptoe to see over Bryces shoulder. Thats Juan by my truck. He must have my order together.
Ill give him a hand.
Bryce stood aside as she walked ahead of him to the pickup where her order was stacked on the pavement. Knowing he was behind her made the skin at the nape of her neck prickle. Her footsteps felt leaden; the distance of only a few yards to her truck was like the length of a football field.
A line of trucks and trailers had started to form behind her. Wed better hurry and get this loaded, she said. You have other customers.
The three of them filled the pickups cargo area. Rosalie quickly consulted her list and wrote a check. When she tore it out of the book, she hesitated, looking first at Juan and then Bryce. Who do I give this to?
Give it to Juan, Bryce said. Hes the boss. Im just here to do what I can.
She handed over the check and opened the door to the truck. I suppose your father is happy youre back.
He seems to be. I hope I can be more of a help than a hindrance.
She climbed inside the truck, shut the door and started the engine. Bryce leaned on her open window. Funny, but as soon as I got out here among the harvest this morning, it all came back to me, he said. I suppose produce is in my blood.
And football, she said.
Yep. And football.
Rosalie stared out her windshield. All she had to do was put the truck in gear, and this whole anxiety-inducing episode would be over. Shed survived a face-to-face with Bryce. Maybe she could even walk by him in the halls of Whistler Creek High School without dissolving into a mass of insecurities. Not risking another look at his face, she lifted her hand. Well, see you. Say hi to your parents.
I will. Give my regards to Claudia.
Sure thing. Eyes straight ahead. Lips tight. Truck shifted into drive.
Now just take your foot off the brake.
Oh, Rosalie, he said, his arm still on her door.
She swiveled her head slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. Yes?
You want to get together?
Now her eyes snapped to his. Was he kidding? No. He actually appeared sincere. Ah
Im only working until noon today, just until the out-of-town orders are loaded on trucks. Maybe we could meet at the Whistler Inn for lunch.
Lunch? She gripped the steering wheel and resisted the urge to slap her forehead. She was an English teacher for heavens sake, and all she could muster was monosyllabic responses.
He chuckled. Yeah. Its the meal in the middle of the day. Most people eat it.
She glowered at him. I cant do lunch.
Are you sure? I thought maybe I could catch up on fifteen years of Whistler Creek gossip.
Bryce, your parents can fill you in on whats happened around here.
I suppose they could, if all I wanted to know about was the sixty-something country-club set. But I never cared much about those people when I lived here.
Right. You much preferred the simple earthiness of the Campanos. Well, not any more. Look, I just cant. Im working at the stand today. That was a lie. Saturday was Rosalies errand day. She did chores while Danny helped Claudia at the stand. Now she had to hope Bryce didnt stop by.
Some other time then?
She eased off the brake, gratified when the truck slipped away from him. Maybe. Who knows? she said.
Rosalie?
She gingerly stepped on the pedal, slowing the truck to a crawl. What?
I still miss him, too.
She hit the accelerator and drove off. When she looked in her rearview mirror through burning eyes, she saw Bryce standing there, hands on hips, watching her leave.
Chapter Three
Marjorie Benton slid another pancake on top of the stack shed already layered on Bryces plate. You ready for more bacon? she asked.
He stared up at her. Mom, enough. Ive only been home a few days, and Ive probably gained five pounds.
She scooted the syrup bottle closer to him. Its Sunday, Brycie. We always have big breakfasts on weekends, remember?
Bryce sought help from his father who remained hidden behind the newspaper. So that plate of scrambled eggs and sausage that you brought to me in the wholesale market on Friday morning was a light meal? he said to her.
Roland Benton covered up a chuckle with a rustle of the sports section.
Marjorie sat at the table next to her son. It wouldnt hurt you to put on a few pounds, she said. I know you dont cook for yourself as a bachelor
He started to tell her that he was a good cook, even had a recipe box in one of the cartons currently stored in the garage, but figured shed then tell everyone in town about her son, the kitchen wizard. Probably not the best image for the new football coach to project. Besides he could always tell when his mother was on a roll and knew the futility of trying to stop her.
I suspect you havent eaten properly in years, she continued. I know that woman you were married to didnt like to cook. She paused. Or keep a clean house.
Bryce smiled around a bite of doughy pancake. It wasnt as if he and that woman had lived in squalor for four years. True, Audrey hadnt been the domestic type, but shed made sure the cleaning lady showed up weekly, so hed never been able to write his initials in the dust. And shed mapped out the best take-out restaurants in Lubbock, so when he didnt feel like cooking for the two of them, theyd never gone hungry. Housekeeping issues hadnt been what broke them up.
Marjorie raised one finger in the air. But
Bryce swallowed and washed down the pancake with a big gulp of milk. Here it comes.
I think we should discuss whats really concerning me this morning, his mother said. Behind his newspaper, Roland took a long swallow of coffee.
Bryce set down his fork and pushed away his plate. Mom, do we really need to go over this?
She tapped a manicured fingernail on the tabletop. I dont see why youre meeting with a real estate agent today, Bryce. Give me one good reason why youre rushing into this.
He set his elbows on the table and looked at her. Mom, would you like to see my drivers license? Its proof that Im thirty-three years old.
Her spine stiffened. I know how old you are, Bryce. I was there the day you were born.
But you havent been there every day for the last fifteen years, he said. Im used to living on my own. I need my own place.
Whats wrong with your old room?
Nothing. It has four sturdy walls, a big window overlooking the back patio, a view of the cornfield and the peach orchards. Its a paradise. He took a deep breath. In fact, I think you and Dad should strip it bare, paint the walls a bright sunny color, move in your sewing machine and cutting table and make it your home hobby center.
Really, Bryce! Im only thinking of you.
He glanced at the ceiling as if inspiration, and patience, could be found there before covering her hand with his and once again wishing he werent an only child. Mom, I love you. You know that.
She brushed a strand of blond hair off her forehead and sniffed.
I want a homemy homeand I want it in this town.
She pursed her lips a moment. This is your home, Bryce. What need do your father and I have for this big house?
Thats a good question, he said. And one for you and Dad to think about. But for now, Im tired of living in places that, for the last fifteen years, have always seemed like temporary shelters to me. Dorm rooms, apartments, condos. I want a house, a little bit of land, some grass with honest-to-goodness roots that I can fertilize and watch grow. Ive waited a long time for this opportunity to come my way, and I want those roots in Whistler Creek soil. Soil with my name on the deed.
Marjorie looked out the sliding glass doors which opened onto a view of acres and acres of rich Benton farmland. But all this will eventually be your soil, Bryce.
Maybe so, Mom, and I look forward to helping Dad when he needs me. But for now
Marjorie started to speak, but stopped when Roland suddenly made a show of folding the newspaper and setting it on the table. Roland didnt say much, but when he did, everyone in the room generally gave him the floor. Hes a grown man, Marjorie. Hes going to contribute to this community in more ways than just as the heir to Benton Farms. Roland leaned forward, leveling a steely gray gaze on his wifes face. Let him go. Whats a few miles between you and him anyway?
Marjorie fingered the flowery buttons on her robe before standing to her full, impressive five feet eight inches. She picked up Bryces plate and walked to the sink. Fine, she snapped, turning the water on full blast.
Bryce sat in the uncomfortable silence for a full minute wondering if he should say something to bridge a gap between his parents which all at once seemed cavernous. And then his father reached across the table for a slice of crisp bacon on a platter. He picked it up and had it halfway to his mouth when Marjorie, the always effective eyes in the back of her head in full operational mode, stormed the table and smacked his hand. Dont even think about it, she said, pointing to his chest as if his heart had ears.
Roland dropped the bacon, gave his son a little smile and picked up his newspaper.
Bryce stood in the middle of a stand of live oak trees and looked at the front of the weathered clapboard house hed just toured. Turning to the real estate agent hed hired, he said, I cant believe how many times Ive driven this road, Lisa, seen this driveway, but never really knew what was back here behind all these trees.
Im not surprised, the agent said. You cant see the structure from the road. She consulted notes in her portfolio. The house was built in 1953 by a Canadian man, Clive Harbin. Its only had two owners, Clive and his son, who inherited the place and used it as a winter residence since sometime in the 80s. The son, whose name is Wyatt, has been unable to make the trip for the last three years, and the house has remained unoccupied all that time. I guess thats why Wyatts kids convinced him to sell.
Bryce noted the missing shingles, crumbling bricks on the chimney. It needs work, he said. Gutters need to be replaced. The whole house needs painting, inside and out. Even as he listed the homes problems, his hands itched to get to work on it. An hour ago, when hed cleared the narrow, rutted drive and had his first view of the house, hed fallen in love with its clean, traditional lines. Now he was trying to keep his enthusiasm at a reasonable level so he wouldnt make a mistake with an offer.
A classic cottage farmhouse, the Realtor had called it. Steep second-story roof, a pair of gabled windows, an inviting porch that extended along the front and wrapped around one side. The inside floor plan met his needs exactly. A big living room with a stone fireplace, nice-size dining room, a kitchen that needed updating but was plenty big enough for a small table and chairs. A master bedroom downstairs with a small bonus room he could use as an office, and two small bedrooms upstairs.
Lets walk around back, the agent suggested. It says on my specs that the property extends three hundred yards into the wooded area.
As they made their way around the side of the house, Bryce noted the well and water softener, and a patch of green grass that probably indicated the septic system. The rest of the yard was mostly weeds and overgrown shrubs. How much total acreage? he asked when they looked beyond the border of the backyard to a forest of pine, oak and magnolia trees.
Four-and-a-half acres, Lisa said, looking down at her shoes. Im not going into the woods with you in these new heels, but you go ahead.
Bryce walked into the thick forest and returned after a few minutes. His mind buzzed with plans. Hed need to hire a backhoe operator to clear the wild shrubs and scrub trees, buy a decent chainsaw and weed eater.
So what do you think? she asked. When you gave me your wish list, I immediately thought of this place.
Its the best of the three weve seen, he said.
And its location on Fox Hollow Road makes it easily accessible to town.
And the Campanos house, Bryce thought. As he was following the agent to this property, hed passed the home where hed spent so many happy days growing up. When hed glanced at the house, his heart had lurched in his chest. For most of his formative years, Bryce had felt as comfortable in the Campano home as he had in his own house. Maybe even more so. He and Ricky and Rosalie had been like siblings, Enzo and Claudia, like second parents.
Hed noticed too, the cars parked at Claudia Campanos roadside stand. Not surprising that on a beautiful Sunday afternoon folks would be stopping for fresh produce. He hadnt seen Rosalie. Bryce made up his mind to stop at the stand on his way back down Fox Hollow Road and say hello to Mrs. Campano.
What do you want to do? the agent said, breaking into his thoughts. Id love to draw up a contract on this house. She gave him a brilliant smile. I think it would be perfect for our towns new football coach.
Ill need to arrange inspections first, he said. Check for termites. Check the roof, plumbing and electrical.
Of course. But we can make the contract contingent on the inspections coming in satisfactorily. She tapped a pen on the top of her portfolio. You dont want to lose this place by not having your name on the dotted line.
He smiled. How many offers have you had on this property since it was listed last year? he said.
She shrugged. Admittedly its been a slow market.
Bryce was going to own this house. He felt it in the jangle of excited nerves in the pit of his stomach. Its listed at ninety thousand?
Thats right.
Write up an offer at twenty percent under that price. Well see what happens.
She held out her hand. Meet me in my office in a half hour. Ill get the paperwork started.
Rosalie joined her son and her mother at the produce stand midafternoon on Sunday. When are your friends picking you up to go to the park? she asked Danny.
He checked his watch. They should be here any minute. I need to get my gear. Are you staying to help Grandma?
Yes. You go on.
Thanks. He pointed to an insufficient number of small baskets of tomatoes sitting in a bin. You need to restock. I was just getting ready to do that.
Sure. Looks like its been a good day.
He agreed, said goodbye to Claudia and jogged away just as a Honda Civic pulled into the drive and followed him toward the house. Rosalie waved to Dannys friend at the wheel. She took a stack of miniature bushel baskets from under the bin and started to fill them with tomatoes from a large crate. Her attention was diverted when a black pickup with sparkling chrome accessories braked in front of the stand. She immediately noticed a front bumper license plate in black and gold that said Texas Tech University, and a moment later, Bryce Benton got out of the drivers seat.
He started to walk to Rosalie but stopped when Claudia hooted so loud a customer spilled a bag of peaches. Bryce Benton! Oh, my stars. Get over here.
Bryce strode around the back of the stand and gave Claudia a hug. When she finally let him loose, she placed the flat of her hand over her heart and stared up into his face. You have gotten even better looking, if thats possible.
Rosalie hurried to the front to help the customer retrieve her peaches. As she worked, she couldnt help thinking that her mothers reaction to seeing Bryce was amazing, and not in a good way. For a time, both women, and Rosalies father as well, had nurtured bad feelings against Bryce every bit as strong as the ones Rosalie still seemed to cling to.
Numb with grief at the sudden, tragic death of their son, Rosalies parents had sought comfort in the only way they knew howby blaming the young man whose show-off antics had resulted in the accident which took the life of his best friend. Looking back, Rosalie realized that the anger and bitterness against Bryce, rightly or wrongly, had probably been the glue that had held the Campano family together through the weeks and months of mourning.
And then Danny came along and their lives progressed according to a new purpose and pace. Rosalie continued to cry every night for her brother. Enzo Campano buried his grief so deep that Rosalie often wondered if he allowed himself to think about Ricky at all. And Claudia threw her efforts and mothering skills into making a home for her grandson.
Unlike her daughter and her husband, at some point, shed let go of the anguish and resentment. At least she said she had. But had she ever really forgiven Bryce? Since the Campanos didnt talk much about the incident, Rosalie had always wondered. Today, however, almost sixteen years after her sons death, Claudia tried to convince her daughter in this grandiose gesture of welcoming Bryce home that she had.
Youre the talk of the town, Bryce, Claudia said. He grinned in a seemingly modest way and chatted quietly with her.
Rosalie rang up the customers order. When the lady got in her car and drove away, Bryce walked over. So hows business, Rosalie? he said.
Its okay.
The Honda sped past with Danny in the backseat. The driver honked his horn and turned onto Fox Hollow Road.
Bryce stared at the car for a moment and then snapped his fingers. Thats right. You have a kid, dont you? My mother told me you went to college, met a guy and had a baby.
Thats right.
A boy?
Yes.
And you moved back home with Claudia?
Right again.
The car rounded a curve and disappeared. Rosalie hoped that would be the end of the conversation. Nope.
Is your son in high school yet? Bryce asked.
Vague. Vague. Keep your answers vague. Divert attention away from Danny. Starts this year, she said, returning to the task of packing tomato boxes. Bryce didnt take the hint and move away, so she looked up at him, swallowed an involuntary sigh, and said, Youre surrounded by fruits and vegetables at your house, Bryce, so youre obviously not here to shop.
He smiled. Not today.
Then ?
He leaned a hip against the stand. Campanos does business with Benton Farms, and Im grateful for your years of support. Would you believe its customer appreciation day?
Right. She rearranged tomatoes to fit more boxes in the bin. Not unless this magnanimous event just started today.
As a matter of fact, it did.
She huffed. And exactly how many Benton customers have you visited so far to show your appreciation?
The grin broadened. Youre the first.
She frowned at him and continued working, though on some deeper emotional level she was aware of his every move. As you can see, Im busy. If you want to go appreciate someone else, feel free.
I stopped by for another reason, too, he said.
And that would be?
He stood straight and looked down the road. You and I are going to be neighbors.
Her hand stilled. She clutched her fists at her sides. What are you talking about?
Im about to become a home owner. I put a bid in for a place down the road, about halfway between your house and the old gristmill.
Her mind scrambled to come up with a location. Houses were separated by acres of land on Fox Hollow Road. There were no close neighbors in the traditional sense. The only property she knew of that was for sale was the old Harbin place. Surely he didnt mean the homestead that was less than a mile away.
I just left the Harbin property, he said. Ive made an offer.
She could only stare, reining in her first impulse to shout at him that he had no right. That she didnt want him living so near. That she didnt need to be thinking about him driving past her house every day, invading the space in her heart that once had been filled with him. Instead, after a few moments she found her voice. That place has been vacant for quite a while.
I know. It needs some work. Have you ever driven back there to see the house?
She had once or twice, when she was a kid. But she couldnt tell him right now what the house even looked like. My dad knew old Mr. Clive, she said. And he sometimes drove produce out to Wyatt Harbin when he was in town. I dont remember much about the place. The people who stayed there kept to themselves.
Light animated Bryces eyes. Its a great place, Rosalie. Got real potential. I cant wait to start fixing it up.
It wasnt enough that she was going to work with Bryce at the high school. Now they were going to be neighbors. In a spread-out, rural community the size of Whistler Creek, why hadnt he found a house miles away on one of the other country roads?
She realized he was talking and forced herself to tune in.
a done deal yet. The family will have to accept the offer. He stopped, stared at her. But I really want that house, Rosalie. Ill start to feel more like a part of the community once Ive moved in. He waited for a reaction from her and when he didnt get one he said, Arent you going to congratulate me?
At the risk of choking she said, Congratulations, Bryce. She almost said, Once again youll get everything you want, but instead said the words she knew her eavesdropping mother would be waiting for. I hope youre happy in the new place.
He smiled. Since well be living so close, maybe youll bring me a cup of sugar if I need to borrow it.
That was the last straw. In spite of Claudias listening to every word, Rosalie said, Look around you, Bryce. Nothing but fields and barns and open space. This isnt Wisteria Lane for heavens sake. We dont meet in the mornings for coffee and in the afternoons for margaritas.
She spared a glance in her mothers direction and immediately felt the sting of her heated gaze. Well, sorry, Ma.
Im kind of disappointed to hear that, Rosalie, Bryce said. I was hoping we could put the past behind us.
Rosalie let out a long breath and with it, some of the anger trapped in her chest. Bryce, I hope you become the best football coach this town has ever known. And I hope you get as much out of this job as you can. I really do. But as far as you and I are concerned, the past will always be an issue. It wont go away. It shaped us, made us who we are. And I wont let your coming back to town change the woman Ive become now. I cant.
He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her an intense stare. Rosalie, Ricky was the best friend I ever had, he said so only she could hear. You were the second-best until one day you became so much more. I cant forget that. I dont want to forget it.
Then youll have to live with it any way you can. Thats what Ive had to do.
He started to say something but stopped when two cars pulled into the lot. Excited passengers spilled out of the doors and headed to the stand. Bryce gave her one last look, filled with sadness and longing. Ill see you around, Rosie-girl, he said, calling her by a former pet name. But its all just a damn shame.
That we can agree on, she said.
He said goodbye to Claudia, got in his truck and drove off. And Rosalie began greeting customers. Anything to avoid the censure in her mothers eyes and an old longing that was trying to squeeze its way into her heart.
Chapter Four
Live with it any way you can.
Those words spoken by Rosalie at the Campano produce stand yesterday continued to haunt Bryce as he dressed in shorts and a T-shirt for his first official visit to Whistler Creek High Schools athletic building. Without giving his mother a chance to discuss the real estate deal hed entered into Sunday afternoon, he gave her a peck on her cheek, poured himself a mug of coffee and dashed out the door to his truck. He didnt feel up to another argument this morning.
What is it exactly that Rosalie expects of me? he said aloud as he drove down the wide country road bordered by estate homes and green patches of rich, fertile farmland.
Obviously nothing, you thickheaded dolt!
The trucks air-conditioning blasted him over the rim of the mug as he took a swig of steaming coffee. And why the hell cant you leave it at that? he added, setting the cup into the drink holder.
Of course, he knew the answer to that question. Once Rosalie had mattered to him more than any other person hed ever known. She and Ricky had been his constant companions for years. And then, one brilliant spring day at the end of their senior year in high school, hed realized he was crazy in love with Rosie. Nothing in his life so far had equaled the pure, sweet jubilation, nor packed the emotional wallop, of that moment.
Thinking back now, it seemed to Bryce that Rosalie had come to the same conclusion as he had at the exact same minute in time on the momentous morning one day after their senior prom. Neither of their dates had made it to the ritual breakfast, this year hosted at the Benton home on Little River Road. Rosalies date, nursing a headache from too much booze the night before, had gone to church at his parents insistence. Bryces date, the girl hed been with since his junior year, had slept in, refusing to even pick up the phone when hed called that morning to rouse her.
Suddenly finding themselves stag at a date affair, and totally comfortable with each other, Bryce and Rosalie had wandered into the peach orchard with two wineglasses, a pitcher of fresh orange juice and a chilled bottle of champagne Bryce had pilfered from his fathers wine cellar. Theyd laughed at the pop of the cork and jumped back as the frothing liquid had poured from the bottle, sending sparkles of golden wine over Rosalies flowered sundress.
Bryce made the mimosas a little strong, handed Rosalie a glass and suggested they wrap their arms in a traditional romantic toast. All fun and games, right? Theyd sipped and smiled at each other as if they were Hollywood romance legends. Rosalie had batted those long black lashes that every girl in high school had envied, and Bryce leaned in to give her a kiss on her cheek. Thats what hed intended. Only the force of some crazy cosmic collision seemed to take control of his body and hed claimed her lips. To this day he didnt know why. He only knew that when their mouths touched, hers soft as the peach-scented breeze that morning, his greedy and seeking, nothing had ever been the same.
Bryce navigated the moderate traffic of downtown Whistler Creek to the high school and parked in the lot reserved for teachers. Only one other car was there, a gray SUV with a faculty sticker on the windshield. He took cartons from the back of his truck, loaded them onto a two-wheeled cart and walked past the high school. Taking the track around the football field, he came to the freestanding athletic center where his office was located. The building had been dedicated ten years earlier, thanks to public tax dollars, corporate donations and too many bake sales to count.
Dexter Canfield had given Bryce a key to the facility, so he unlocked the door and went inside. The smells of sweat and socks and the indefinable scent of masculine dreams greeted him as he walked down a short hallway decorated with commemorative bricks inscribed with contributor names. Bryce stopped long enough to read the name Benton Farms in the short list of $5,000 benefactors. He entered the first office on the right where the name plaque on the door already said Coach Benton.
The office had been cleaned out in preparation for his takeover. Someone had spackled over reminders of the previous occupants certificates and photos. Fresh beige paint covered the walls. The large metal desk in the center of the room was free of clutter, and Bryce found the drawers empty. He set his cartons on top of the desk and began taking out his belongings and stacking files and documents in some sort of manageable order.
He would hang his diplomas and framed recognitions on the wall behind the desk. Research materials and empty file folders waiting for paperwork on players went into the plain gray file cabinet. He spread his playbooks and coaching charts on top of the desk, sat in the utilitarian metal chair and flipped through the material, deciding which formations would work for a coach starting up with a new team.
After a couple hours, he took a break to simply appreciate being where hed always wanted to end up. He stared out a wide window that overlooked the field where, in a short time, hed teach a bunch of raw players to become productive team members. One adult wearing shorts and a polo shirt stood on the sideline while two teens practiced pitching and catching a baseball in the center of the practice area.
Bryce spread his hands on the desktop and watched the interplay between the man and the boys. The man was obviously coaching. Bryce understood the connection between a coach and his players. He understood what each meant to the other, how each player individually was a vital link to the success of the whole. How parents and family and friends contributed to what happened on the field.
He imagined Bucky Lowell in this office and figured he probably had had pictures of his family on this desk, images that comforted and supported him. Bryce had no pictures to put here, no wife or children to think of while he made decisions that affected so many lives and dreams. Audrey had taken his dream of kids away from him.
He sighed. Maybe, if the house deal went through, hed get a dog, a photogenic one. And maybe, if he got really lucky, hed marry again and have those couple of kids hed always wanted. And then quite unexpectedly, an image of Rosalie came to his mind, the way she looked nowgrown up but still with a youthful sultriness that took his breath despite the sadness of the past in her eyes. He shook his head. Dont even go there, Bryce, he said. The woman has made her attitude about you perfectly clear.
He left his office and wandered onto the practice field where the informal baseball session was still going on. The adult waved him over and stuck out his hand when Bryce approached. Coach Benton, the man said. Welcome to Whistler Creek. Or, welcome back I should say.
Bryce shook hands. Thanks. Its been a long time.
Im Ted Fanning, baseball coach, the man said. This will be my third year on the faculty.
Nice to meet you. Bryce shielded his eyes and looked at the boys on the field. I guess those are a couple of your stars?
Thats right. He pointed. Watch that pitcher. Hell knock your socks off.
Bryce observed the kid wind up and let loose with a curveball that seemed good enough to have been computer generated. Wow. The kids good.
You bet he is. Coach Fanning cupped his hands around his mouth. Lets see a fastball, Danny!
The boy obliged and Bryce whistled in appreciation. Damn. That pitch had to be nearly eighty miles an hour.
Fanning grinned. Ive clocked him at eighty-two. And how about that accuracy? The catcher barely has to move his arm. And the best thing is, I dont have to worry about the kids dedication. Here it is, off-season, and he practically begs me for extra practice time.
Bryce continued to watch the phenom pitcher with mounting admiration. How old is he?
Hard to believe, but hes only going to be a freshman this year. Again the grin. Ill have him four more years. A coachs dream.
Yeah, and definite quarterback material. Bryce couldnt help fantasizing about seeing the kid in a football practice jersey. Hed already determined that the quarterback spot on the Wildcats would be up for grabs at the end of the current season. And he had no good prospect coming up the ranks. Unless
Ah, tell me something, Coach, he said.
Sure thing.
Do you think this kid might be interested in playing football along with baseball?
Fannings smile faded. Youre not thinking of taking my player, are you?
I wouldnt put it that way, Bryce said. Just thought maybe he could do both.
Fanning scratched his head. Youre seeing him in a quarterback spot, arent you?
Hes got the arm for it.
Fanning thought a moment. The seasons dont overlap. And hes certainly dedicated enough to go through additional training.
Bryce sensed a but on the tip of Fannings tongue. He waited. So what is it? You dont want to share him?
I dont want a football injury affecting his pitching arm. And
And what? Bryce said.
I know this kids mother, and I dont think shed be in favor of him playing football. She thinks its dangerous.
Bryce didnt see that as a big problem. Hed persuaded reluctant parents into getting over football phobias before. Id talk to her, he said.
You could try, but shes also a stickler for grades.
Is the kid smart enough to handle the load of schoolwork and two sports?
I suppose, but this mom is a special case. Fannings expression became wary. Shes going to be a hard sell, and I ought to know. Im kind of dating her.
He announced the end of the practice session and Bryce kept his sights on the pitcher as the boys crossed the field. Never hurts to ask though, does it? he said to Ted.
Go ahead. Talk to him.
Fanning put his hand on the boys shoulder. Nice workout, fellas. By the way, this is Whistler Creeks new football coach, boys. Coach Benton.
The teen whod been catching Dannys pitches said hi and excused himself to head for the showers. Danny remained. He wiped his palm on his shorts and shook hands with Bryce. He was tall, only a couple inches shorter than Bryce. Definitely tall enough to fit the bill as QB. And there could still be a growth spurt in his future.
Ive heard about you, Danny said.
And Ive been watching you, Bryce said. Good pitching style youve developed there.
Danny kicked a clod of dirt with his cleat. Thanks.
Fanning looked from one to the other. As a matter of fact, Danny, Coach here was wondering if you might be interested in playing for the football team.
The boys eyes widened. Really?
Well, weve been kicking the idea around, Bryce said. There would have to be tryouts.
The instantaneous enthusiasm faded from the boys eyes. I dont know how my mom would like the idea. Her brother
Danny paused, and a fifteen-year-old pain coiled in Bryces gut. Who is your mother, Danny?
She teaches at the high school, he said. You ah, you know her. Miss Campano, the English teacher.
Bryce could only gawk at Danny as if the kid had suddenly sprouted a second head. Youre Rosalies son? he repeated needlessly.
Yeah.
Damn. Bryces goal of nabbing the ideal quarterback suddenly didnt even seem a remote possibility. Of course Rosie wouldnt want her kid playing football. Of course she wouldnt want him playing for Bryce.
He walked Fanning a few steps away from Danny and spoke so only the coach could hear. Do you know my connection to Rosalies brother? he asked.
Ive heard, but I dont want to get in the middle of this. Fanning rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. History can sure come back to bite you in the ass, cant it, Coach?
Bryce realized he must look witless. He tried to smile at Danny Campano. Nice meeting you, Danny, he said. Ill see you around.
As he walked back to the athletic center, Bryce wondered how fortune could be so fickle. Show him a shining future star and then snuff it out behind a giant rain cloud. But what bothered him just as much was why he kept thinking about what Fanning had said about Rosalie. I ought to know. Im kind of dating her.
When Rosalie pulled into the high school lot, she immediately noticed the familiar tricked-out black pickup parked under the shade of an old oak tree.
Great, she muttered to herself and chose a spot several spaces away. She backed in, turned off her engine and looked at her watch. A little before noon. If Danny was on time, a rarity when he was practicing, shed see him sprinting across the practice field in just a few minutes. Hopefully they would be on their way home before Bryce returned to his truck.
Unfortunately the male figure she saw moments later wasnt Danny. Even from a distance, Rosalie recognized the features of the man who had been her childhood friend, her teenage companion and her eventual heartthrob. She lowered her sunglasses and stared, allowing herself the guilty pleasure of enjoying the natural grace of his walk, the confident swagger in his step. She smirked to herself. The man was still just too darned sexy for his own good.
She couldnt look at Bryce without remembering that morning after the prom and the scent of peaches mingling with his crisp, clean aftershave. She couldnt look at him without recalling the first mind-blowing kiss in the orchard, the first time his hands teased tingles of pleasure out of her eager young body. The first time he She squeezed her eyes shut. As always, the most tender memory of all was obliterated by the image of her brother unconscious on the ground, the sound of her own sobs and the cry of anguish from Bryces lips.
Her senses on overdrive and her emotions on edge, she urged herself to stay in control. She had to expect to see Bryce often. Shed managed to run into him all three days since his surprise appearance Friday night. But she didnt want to see him again so soon, and not around Danny.
She slumped into her seat, grabbed a novel from the dashboard and opened to her bookmarked page. Even if Bryce realized she was in the car, perhaps hed notice she was preoccupied and would politely get in his vehicle and leave.
Of course, she didnt read a word. She kept her gaze intent on the page, but when, a few agonizing minutes later, she heard Bryces subtle step on the blacktop, any possibility of actually comprehending a sentence flew right out her open window. When she heard the truck door open, her face flushed all the way to the roots of her hair. When the door slammed, she released the breath shed been holding. He was leaving. She frowned as she listened for the sound of his engine revving. Would she be thankful or disappointed?
Jeez, Rosalie, what is it that you want?
Hey, Rosalie, I thought this was your car.
Her head snapped up. She swallowed a gasp and looked into the lenses of Bryces aviator sunglasses. He hadnt left after all.
I looked for you but didnt see you in your car until I got in my truck, he said, leaning into her window. We seem to be running into each other everywhere these days.
She faked a grin. Yeah. What are the odds in a town this size?
He removed his glasses and pointed an earpiece toward the athletic building. Oh, I met your boy today.
Her stomach plunged.
Nice kid. Talented, too. He can really throw a baseball.
She pressed the flat of her hand over her abdomena protective gesture, but protective of what? The secret she still harbored? Thats what they tell me.
He put on the glasses and peered at her over the lenses. And by the way, I met your other fella, too.
My other fella?
Ted, the baseball coach. He says you and he are going out.
Wonderful. Rosalie had accepted less than a half-dozen dates with Ted this summer. She hadnt told anyone but Shelby, and intended to keep any relationship with a coworker private. She made up her mind to speak to him as soon as possible about being discreet. Dont believe everything you hear, she said to Bryce.
Youre not dating him?
What Im not doing is discussing this with you, she said, forcing what she hoped was a hint of casual humor into her answer.
Okay. He stared over at the field and raised his hand in a wave. Looks like Dannys coming now.
Thank goodness. Now to get Bryce to his truck and Danny out of here before old home week continued. She heard the cell phone ringtone of Bruce Springsteens Born to Run and glanced at Bryces pocket. Shouldnt you get that? she asked.
He pulled his phone out and checked the caller ID. Yeah, its my real estate agent. We may have an answer to my offer on the Harbin place. He headed toward his truck. See you, Rosie.
She took her first normal breath in minutes as she watched her son lope around the track toward the parking lot. Tall, olive-skinned, dark-haired. Danny looked more like his uncle Ricky than he did his father, a fact which allowed her confidence to return. If she could just keep Danny and Bryce apart, Bryce would never suspect.
Her mind flashed back to the two weeks after that first kiss in the peach orchard, the day a most unexpected jolt of love had zeroed in on her heart. Two weeks later, she still marveled that Bryce Benton, a boy shed always loved in the way sisters do, was all at once the young man she now truly loved in the way sisters never could. There had been no doubt in Rosalies mind that Bryce was the one. She couldnt wait until he made love to her. Bryce was worthy of her most precious gift, and she was determined to give it to him before he went off to college.
She went to her brother and confided her plan to him. He was the logical one in the Campano family to advise her since her father and mother would have had a tough time accepting that their daughter was planning to lose her virginity before the sacred bond of marriage.
Ricky had no such qualms. You need to get on the Pill, Rosie, he told her. Thats what Beth uses. Guys really dont like to use condoms. And you dont have to worry about Bryce having something. I know for a fact that hes only been with one other girl.
The Pill. A prescription was needed, so she did what she believed was right even considering her parents traditional views. With only two weeks until Bryce would leave for summer training at the University of Texas, she asked her mother to accompany her to the doctors office. She believed Claudia would consent. After all, this was Bryce, and Claudia loved him, too.
Claudia staunchly refused to consent to birth control pills, saying Enzo would be horrified at this decision. She couldnt go against his wishes. Unfortunately for Rosalie, the family doctor wouldnt prescribe the pills otherwise. Coming up with a backup plan to try an out-of-area clinic on her own, Rosalie drove to Valdosta, thirty miles away. Once again the prescription was denied.
But Rosalie had promised Bryce that she would be on the Pill in time for the special night hed planned when his parents were going to be out of town. So she went to the Benton home with only a flimsily wrapped foil package shed discovered in the back of Rickys nightstand drawer.
And then she didnt even offer the condom to Bryce. Too embarrassed at failing to get the pills. Too in love for the first time in her life. Too caught up in the passion of a moment that promised to fulfill all her preconceived notions about love and sex. Later, Rosalie wondered why shed let those reasons lead her into having unprotected sex and trusting in the most fickle of outcomes.
Even then, everything might have worked out if only that football hadnt rocketed from Bryces hand into Rickys temple the very next day. If only Ricky hadnt died minutes later. Less than twenty-four hours after making love with Bryce, Rosalie lost her brother. The fear and hatred of football, which shed experienced ever since that day, took root in her soul. And she knew her love for Bryce Benton would be forever tarnished.
Hi, Mom. Sorry Im late.
Danny hopped in the car and Rosalie switched mental gears to be a mother again. No problem, she said and started the car.
Danny slanted a gaze at her. I think Ive made a decision today, he said.
Oh? Whats that?
She was heading out of the parking lot when Danny responded, and she very nearly ran into the majestic old oak tree that had recently shaded Bryces truck.
.
.
, (https://www.litres.ru/cynthia-thomason/his-most-important-win-39921010/) .
Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, , , , PayPal, WebMoney, ., QIWI , .
Cynthia Thomason
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
Отзывы: Пока нет Добавить отзыв
О книге: Dare to dream… these sparkling romances will make you laugh, cry and fall in love – again and again!When it comes to love… he’s playing for keepsBryce is living in his small hometown; back coaching his old team; and back in love with his high-school sweetheart. But this time around, he’s determined not to lose Rosalie’s heart ever again. Only problem is, Bryce’s first love has been keeping a big secret from him all these years.And when he discovers the son Rosalie never told him about, the betrayal may just be too painful. Then again, true love can change everything. And if Bryce has anything to say about it, this is a game that they’ll all win… together.