Winning the Right Brother. Abigail Strom

were adults now. You’d think he and Holly would be able to start fresh after fifteen years. But after their brief meeting tonight, Alex doubted they’d ever be able to get along. They rubbed each other the wrong way and probably always would.

      So why was he still thinking about her?

      It didn’t help that she was still so damn gorgeous—or that his body responded to her as if he were still sixteen.

      He needed to get out more, that was his problem. Since moving back to Weston he’d been busy every weekend, either down at the school or fixing up the house. He needed to go out some Saturday night with a woman who found him charming and funny and incredibly sexy.

      He wouldn’t mind the company, either, he thought as he walked upstairs. His place was too big for one person. He didn’t know what had possessed him to buy this old farmhouse, except that it had a great yard out back and he liked houses with character and history and projects to keep him busy in the off-season.

      But a little company wouldn’t hurt. Sexy, willing, female company. And soon.

      It was Friday, the day of Will’s season opener. Holly meant to go home after work and change for the game, but she got caught in a meeting at the end of the day and barely made it to the stadium in time for the opening kickoff. She felt distinctly overdressed in her peach silk pantsuit as she made her way through the crowd to the spot in the bleachers Angela and David Washington had saved for her.

      The Washingtons were old hands at this, since their son, Tom, had been a star running back in his freshman year and this was his second season as a starter. Angela did her best to explain the game to her, but Holly could never figure out who had the ball, and she couldn’t tell the players apart in their helmets and bulky uniforms. Still, she cheered when Angela and David did, which was often, and found enjoyment in the happy crowd, the kids’ excitement and the beautiful September evening.

      She’d spotted Alex right away, down by the players’ bench. She noted objectively—at least she told herself it was objective—that he was looking very, very good in a pair of worn blue jeans and a Wildcats sweatshirt, his brown hair ruffled by the wind. She tried to focus on the game, but since she didn’t really understand it and Will wasn’t playing, it was hard to stay interested. She found her eyes straying to Alex instead.

      He looked at home down there on the sidelines, talking animatedly to his assistant coaches, slapping his players on the back as he sent them into the game and giving them high fives when they returned, pacing back and forth as he watched the action on the field, arguing fiercely with an official over a disputed call.

      The Wildcats must have been doing something right, because the score was thirty-one to seven near the end of the fourth quarter, when Alex sent Will into the game.

      Holly’s heart was in her throat as Will trotted onto the field to join the team huddle. Her hands gripped the cold metal seat when the players lined up, and when Will cocked his arm back to throw the ball. Then she gave the loudest cheer of her life when the pass was caught and the receiver crossed the goal line for a touchdown.

      The game ended soon after that and Holly found herself swept onto the field with the hometown fans, family and friends swarming around the players in happy confusion. Holly took a few steps back as she searched for Will in the crowd.

      When she felt a hand on her shoulder she turned, and when she saw Alex standing there, a bolt of electricity shot through her. She jerked away before she could stop herself.

      “Nice game, Coach,” she said lightly, trying to recover her poise.

      “Thanks,” he said, tilting his head to the side as he looked at her. “You know, I don’t see a lot of silk suits and high heels at football games. Do you even own a pair of jeans?”

      Holly flushed. “I came straight from work,” she snapped. The two of them apparently couldn’t talk without irritating each other, so why even pretend to be civil?

      He was wearing that 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