Sweet Spot. Сьюзен Мэллери

one. The one others looked to for guidance. She wasn’t usually the one they pitied.

      “Speaking of getting over things,” Claire said casually. “Have you talked to Jesse lately?”

      “You know I haven’t.”

      “You have to eventually.”

      “Why?” If Nicole had her way, she wouldn’t deal with Jesse ever again. “Bad enough she slept with my husband. Then she stole the secret family recipe and sold our famous Keyes Chocolate Cake on the Internet.”

      Just thinking about it made her crazy. Drew was one thing, but screwing with the business, too?

      “It’s just like her,” Nicole muttered. “I bet you anything that if I talked to her, she’d have a million excuses. She never takes responsibility.”

      “You threw her out,” Claire said quietly. “She had to make a living.”

      “Exactly. She had to get a job. There are dozens of jobs out there, but did she even try to find one? No. She stole. First Drew, then the cake.” Nicole’s stomach started to hurt. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

      “It’s not going away until you figure out how to reconcile with her.”

      “Maybe I don’t want to have anything to do with her.” Nicole fought anger and hurt. “There was this kid who came into the bakery last week. He stole a bunch of doughnuts, or at least he tried. When I confronted him, he took responsibility for what he’d done. He felt guilty and knew he was wrong. He worked off the amount he’d stolen. He did such a good job that he’s an employee now. Why can’t Jesse be like that? Why can’t she take any responsibility for what she’s done?”

      “I know she hurt you.”

      “More than hurt,” Nicole muttered. “A lot more than hurt.”

      “You two have to figure this out.”

      “I know,” Nicole muttered. “I will. Eventually. I think about it but then I get so mad I don’t even want to see her, let alone talk to her.”

      “It makes me sad that you’re not getting along,” Claire told her. “You’re family.”

      “Not any family I’d want.”

      “I don’t believe you.” Claire looked at her. “You have every right to be angry and hurt, but I think it’s time to ask yourself how much of your behavior is about teaching your sister a lesson and how much of it is about getting revenge.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      NICOLE FELT STUPID and obvious as she leaned on her cane and walked toward the high school football stadium. She was too old to be at a Friday-night game…or too young. She wasn’t a student and she didn’t have a kid in high school. So what exactly was she doing here?

      “It’s what I get for talking to my employees,” she grumbled to herself. She should have just waved and kept on walking. But no. She had to stop and talk to Raoul at the end of his first week working for her. She’d asked how things were going, because she was an idiot. And when he’d mentioned the football game tonight, she’d pretended that she was interested.

      “You could have said no,” she reminded herself. When Raoul had asked her to come, she could have easily said she was busy. Only she wasn’t and she didn’t lie all that well. In a spiritual sense, that was probably a good thing, but as to how it affected where she would be spending her evening, it sucked.

      She looked up at the rows of benches that passed as seats. She didn’t know anyone here. Still, given the choice between the high school kids and the parents, she would pick the parents. At least she had a chance of talking to one of them.

      “Nicole!”

      She turned toward the field and saw one of the football players running toward her. He was suited up in his gear and it took her a second to recognize Raoul.

      “Hi,” she said as she walked toward the railing separating the field from the stands. “Impressive. You look mean and burly.”

      Raoul grinned. “Yeah?”

      She nodded. He looked different. Older. Dangerous. The urge to tell him not to get hurt welled up inside of her. Apparently maternal instincts didn’t need much to kick in.

      “Are you playing a tough team?” she asked.

      “They’re okay. We’re gonna kick their butts, though.”

      “I look forward to that.”

      He grinned. “Thanks for coming tonight. I don’t usually have anyone at the games. Except for my friends, you know. Not an adult.”

      That was her. Adult. “I’ll cheer a lot and try to embarrass you,” she teased.

      “Good.”

      A pretty blond girl in a cheerleader uniform ran up. “Hi,” she said with a big smile. “I’m Brittany.”

      The teenager was even more lovely close-up. She looked perfect and popular. Nicole thought about hating her on general principle.

      “Nicole,” she said.

      “My boss,” Raoul said. “I told you about her. Brittany’s my girlfriend.”

      “Nice to meet you,” Nicole said.

      “You, too. I hope you enjoy the game. We’re going to have a great year.”

      Someone blew a whistle on the field.

      “I gotta go,” Raoul said. “I’ll see you after the game.”

      He ran off before Nicole could explain that she wouldn’t be staying. Then she reminded herself it wasn’t as if she had a full social calendar. So what if she spent the whole evening there?

      “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

      Nicole heard the voice, felt the rush of heat and despised both him for causing it and herself for reacting.

      She looked over the railing to where Hawk stood on the grass.

      For once he was dressed…khakis, polo shirt in school colors. He looked good. Better than good. Talk about annoying.

      “Raoul asked me to come watch him play.”

      Hawk looked unconvinced.

      “I’m telling the truth,” she insisted. “He says he doesn’t have any adults come watch him. Why is that?” “He’s in foster care. Has been for a long time. It’s nice that you could take an interest.”

      He sounded sincere, which made her feel guilty about complaining about coming.

      “It’s no big deal,” she mumbled.

      “It is to him. I gotta go. Enjoy the game.”

      Hawk ran off. Nicole tried not to stare at his butt as he moved, although it was difficult to ignore any part of him. Weird, because she’d never been that superficial before. She was always far more interested in a guy’s mind.

      It was because of where she was in her life, she told herself as she turned back to the bleacher seats and started to climb, using her cane for balance. Under any other circumstances, she would barely be able to remember Hawk’s name.

      “He’s damn pretty,” a woman said.

      Nicole looked at her.

      “The coach. He’s the best part of the game, although my two boys would be humiliated if they heard me say that.” She smiled. “I’m Barbara.”

      The woman scooted over to make room.

      Nicole sat next to her. “Hi. I’m Nicole.”

      “You’re a little young to be a mom,” Barbara