Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Yeah, but—” He was out of the truck like a shot.
“Ugh! He never listens.”
“Hey, be nice to your brother,” I scolded. “And if possible, leave the bad mood behind. Got it?”
“Okay, fine.” She gave a sharp nod, the garish blue paint shading her pretty eyes like two bruises. She gathered her things and closed the door, her expression softening as she peered through the barrier of trees. “Have you met him?”
“Yes. His name is Silas, and he’s a nice guy.”
“He’s really…big.”
I snorted. Silas would love that.
“Not bigger than me,” I teased.
Ivy pulled a comical face. “I think his muscles have muscles, Dad.”
I hid a grin as we wandered next door, where Chase was lobbing questions at my amused lover faster than a pitching machine on a high setting.
“Did you ever play with Tom Brady? Did you ever go to the Super Bowl? Like, play in it? Did you ever meet Denny Mellon? He’s from Elmwood and he’s a famous hockey player. And Jake Milligan too. Did you meet him? Is that a real NFL football in your Jeep? Can I see it?”
I sensed Ivy wanted to roast her brother for his lack of chill, but the mention of a real football was too intriguing to play it cool. She darted from my side and made it to the Jeep just as Silas pulled a football from his truck.
“Whoa! You’re multiplying,” he joked, offering Ivy his hand to shake. “I’m Silas. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Ivy and this is my brother, Chase.”
“I already told him that,” Chase grumbled.
“And that’s our dad.”
“We’ve met,” I said in a neutral voice…you know, as if he were the mailman, a familiar bartender, or the friend of a friend I’d bumped into more than once or twice.
But this was Silas.
This was the man whose bed I’d been in this morning. This was the man I’d made coffee for and sat next to at the island trading newsworthy headlines while nibbling toast with our knees touching. This was the man I’d kissed good-bye and had apologized to in advance, knowing we’d have to be something else in front of the kids. Strangers.
The deception was harder than I’d thought it would be.
“Hey, Coop,” Silas replied breezily. “I didn’t know your kids were big football fans.”
“We play flag football at the park. Dex, the donut guy, started a league last year,” Ivy informed him.
“Yeah, and we play for Wood Hollow, and Wood Hollow is the best,” Chase boasted proudly. “It makes my Fallbrook friends so mad. Can I see your football?”
Silas tossed it to him and shuffled down the driveway, motioning for Chase to pass it. Chase had a decent arm. His spiral wasn’t as tight as it could be, but he stepped into his throw like a boss and delivered a nice shot.
“Not bad,” Silas enthused.
“Thanks. I’ve been practicing,” Chase called out.
Silas threw the ball, then glanced at Ivy. “How about you? Wanna show me what you’ve got?”
Ivy’s grin was quick and disarming. She dropped her bag at my feet and ran to the opposite end of the driveway.
For the next ten minutes or so, I played spectator, watching Silas charm the hell out of my kids. He threw the ball over and over, plucking unwieldy passes out of the air before they nailed the Jeep or landed in a shrub. And all the while, he answered their endless stream of questions.
Yes, he’d played with some of the greatest QBs in the game. He’d been in two Super Bowls: lost the first, won the second. It was the most incredible feeling in the world.
“Like Christmas morning and Santa brings you a bike, a puppy, a trampoline, a foosball table, all-you-can-eat chocolate cake, and more.”
No, he’d never met any of Elmwood famous athletes in person, but he’d been to their games.
“How is a pro football different?” Chase asked, wincing as the next ball slipped out of his hand and bounced on the driveway.
Silas motioned the kids to his side. “It’s bigger, the ends are pointier, there aren’t any stripes on it, and you can tell it’s a little smoother, too. That makes it harder to grip. Yet you two have been chucking this thing like beasts. Gimme a high five.”
He held his hand just out of reach, chuckling as they both jumped to smack his palm.
“All right, guys. Thank Mr. Anderson and—”
“Silas,” he corrected.
Chase and Ivy said thank you and invited Silas to come by for dinner and call whenever he felt like throwing the ball around. I sent them ahead of me and hung back to sneak a few minutes alone with him.
“Like it or not, you just made two new best friends.” I pivoted to face Silas. And God, I wanted to grab his face and kiss the hell out of him. I brushed my fingers over his instead and shoved my hand into my pocket. “Thank you.”