His Most Important Win

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, he’d get a dog, a photogenic one. And maybe, if he got really lucky, he’d marry again and have those couple of kids he’d always wanted. And then quite unexpectedly, an image of Rosalie came to his mind, the way she looked now—grown up but still with a youthful sultriness that took his breath despite the sadness of the past in her eyes. He shook his head. “Don’t 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. It’s been a long time.”
“I’m 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?”
“That’s right.” He pointed. “Watch that pitcher. He’ll 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 kid’s good.”
“You bet he is.” Coach Fanning cupped his hands around his mouth. “Let’s 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. “I’ve clocked him at eighty-two. And how about that accuracy? The catcher barely has to move his arm. And the best thing is, I don’t have to worry about the kid’s 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 he’s only going to be a freshman this year.” Again the grin. “I’ll have him four more years. A coach’s dream.”
Yeah, and definite quarterback material. Bryce couldn’t help fantasizing about seeing the kid in a football practice jersey. He’d 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?”
Fanning’s smile faded. “You’re not thinking of taking my player, are you?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Bryce said. “Just thought maybe he could do both.”
Fanning scratched his head. “You’re seeing him in a quarterback spot, aren’t you?”
“He’s got the arm for it.”
Fanning thought a moment. “The seasons don’t overlap. And he’s certainly dedicated enough to go through additional training….”
Bryce sensed a “but” on the tip of Fanning’s tongue. He waited. “So what is it? You don’t want to share him?”
“I don’t want a football injury affecting his pitching arm. And …”
“And what?” Bryce said.
“I know this kid’s mother, and I don’t think she’d be in favor of him playing football. She thinks it’s dangerous.”
Bryce didn’t see that as a big problem. He’d persuaded reluctant parents into getting over football phobias before. “I’d talk to her,” he said.
“You could try, but she’s 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.” Fanning’s expression became wary. “She’s going to be a hard sell, and I ought to know. I’m 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 boy’s shoulder. “Nice workout, fellas. By the way, this is Whistler Creek’s new football coach, boys. Coach Benton.”
The teen who’d been catching Danny’s 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.
“I’ve heard about you,” Danny said.
“And I’ve been watching you,” Bryce said. “Good pitching style you’ve 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 boy’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Well, we’ve been kicking the idea around,” Bryce said. “There would have to be tryouts….”
The instantaneous enthusiasm faded from the boy’s eyes. “I don’t know how my mom would like the idea. Her brother …”
Danny paused, and a fifteen-year-old pain coiled in Bryce’s 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. “You’re Rosalie’s son?” he repeated needlessly.
“Yeah.”
Damn. Bryce’s goal of nabbing the ideal quarterback suddenly didn’t even seem a remote possibility. Of course Rosie wouldn’t want her kid playing football. Of course she wouldn’t 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 Rosalie’s brother?” he asked.
“I’ve heard, but I don’t 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, can’t it, Coach?”
Bryce realized he must look witless. He tried to smile at Danny Campano. “Nice meeting you, Danny,” he said. “I’ll 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. I’m 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, she’d 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 wasn’t 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 couldn’t look at Bryce without remembering that morning after the prom and the scent of peaches mingling with his crisp, clean aftershave. She couldn’t 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 Bryce’s lips.