Winning the Right Brother. Abigail Strom

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СКАЧАТЬ knowing smile of his, the one that said he knew he’d gotten under her skin. She was about to say a cold goodbye when Will came running up to them.

      “Coach, we’re taking you out to celebrate,” he said jubilantly. “We’re going to the Texas Grill, and you’re the guest of honor.” He turned to Holly. “A bunch of parents are going along, too. Won’t you come, Mom? Please?”

      Holly sighed inwardly. She’d never seen her son so excited—she had to celebrate with him. There’d be a lot of people there and it shouldn’t be hard to stay away from Alex.

      “Of course,” she said, sounding as enthusiastic as she could. Will looked happy as he went back to his friends, but from the look Alex gave her before she turned away, she guessed she hadn’t fooled him one bit.

      Not that she ever had.

      An hour later, having watched Will consume an enormous pile of barbecued spareribs and having eaten a few herself, Holly was watching Alex play pool. She had plenty of company—half the population of Weston seemed to be there, all of them wanting to congratulate the new coach. For tonight, at least, he was the most popular guy in town.

      That sure was a change from high school. Back then, Alex had gone out of his way to alienate people. Now he was at the center of a warm circle of parents and kids, laughing and talking with everybody. He made a particularly spectacular shot, and one parent—a single mom like her, but looking ten years younger in a short denim skirt and shimmery top—took friendliness a step further by throwing her arms around Alex’s neck and kissing him loudly on the cheek.

      Okay, so some things hadn’t changed.

      Alex had always been a flirt. He never bragged about his conquests the way some guys did, but his relationships had always been … casual. Casual and numerous.

      He was running the table now, amidst loud cheers. The single mom was cheering the loudest, and Holly felt a sudden wave of depression. She felt out of place in her work clothes, out of place in the midst of this boisterous, celebratory group.

      She was just tired, that was all. It had been a long work week and she hadn’t planned on going out tonight.

      She found her son playing video games with his friends. “I’m feeling a little beat, honey. Do you mind if I head out now? I asked the Washingtons to drive you home so you don’t have to leave the party early.”

      “No problem, Mom,” Will said, giving her a quick grin before turning back to his game.

      A few minutes later Holly was standing in the brightly lit parking lot, looking ruefully at her left rear tire. It was flat as a pancake. She remembered the broken glass in the stadium parking lot, which she’d thought she’d avoided.

      Apparently not.

      She thought briefly about going back inside for Will, but she knew he was still having fun. And, anyway, she was perfectly capable of changing a flat tire by herself. She’d been doing it for fifteen years.

      She opened her trunk to get the spare.

      Alex sat out the next pool game, but there was still a crowd around him—fans of the Weston Wildcats and parents bubbling over with enthusiasm for their sons’ new football coach.

      He was familiar with this kind of instant popularity. If they lost their game next week, it would just as instantly evaporate. But victory celebrations were always fun and he was enjoying himself, listening respectfully to one father’s analysis of the game, when he caught sight of a familiar redhead walking away from the crowd.

      “Absolutely,” he said. “That’s a good point about our pass defense. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s another parent I need to say hello to.”

      He was determined to talk to Holly again tonight. On the drive over from the stadium, he’d decided to try one more time to have a normal conversation with her. The past shouldn’t define the present. The relaxed atmosphere of the Texas Grill was the perfect setting—he could buy her a drink or challenge her to a game of pool. He refused to believe that two rational adults couldn’t get past whatever friction still lingered from their high school days.

      He saw her exchange a few words with Will, but before he could catch up to her she disappeared out the back door.

      He paused, frowning. He thought about asking Will why she was leaving early, but it wasn’t really any of his business. She was probably just tired.

      It was none of his business, he reminded himself as he followed her out to the parking lot. But he’d check on her, anyway, just to make sure she was all right.

      He saw her as soon as he stepped outside. She was over by her car, looking down at what was obviously a flat tire. After a moment she opened her trunk for the spare.

      He crossed the parking lot toward her, noticing that the cool evening breeze was ruffling her hair, teasing strands out of the complicated bun. He came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head quickly, and when she saw it was him she pulled away, just like she’d done after the game. He dropped his hand and took a step back.

      “Need some help?” he asked, gesturing toward the flat.

      “No,” she said, reaching into the trunk for the spare and laying it on the ground. She set the iron and jack down next to it and shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it into the car.

      “Come on, Holly. Changing a tire is a two-person job. Admit you need help.”

      As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew they were the wrong ones. Holly stiffened as she knelt down on the ground, grabbing for the tire iron.

      “I do not need help. And even if I did, I wouldn’t need yours.”

      Her words stung, childish as they were. “Fine,” he said. There was a pickup truck parked next to them and he leaned back against it, folding his arms.

      She glared up at him as she placed the iron over the first wheel lug. “That was your cue to go back to your adoring fans. Why are you still here?”

      “On the off chance you come off your high horse and realize you need me. That’s a moment I don’t want to miss.”

      “I hope you enjoy disappointment,” she said before using both hands to bear down on the tire iron in an effort to loosen the nut—to no avail.

      She sat back on her heels.

      “I can bench press two hundred and eighty pounds,” he said.

      She gave him a dirty look before picking the iron up again.

      Her blouse was silk, a soft peach color, and through it he could see the outline of her bra. Her hair was starting to come down, tendrils clinging damply to the back of her neck. Perspiration made her skin glow.

      Thirty seconds later, the nut hadn’t budged.

      “I eat lugs like that for breakfast,” he told her.

      She glared at him over her shoulder. “Do you mind? I’m trying to concentrate.”

      “I could change that for you in a minute flat.”

      “No, СКАЧАТЬ