Second Chance Mom. Emilie Rose

of how ticklish he’d been when she used to tease the silky strands beneath his arms and raked her nails over his rib cage blindsided her. Trying to banish the mental images of his bronzed body, she bent to stretch her tightening hamstrings.

      “I’m glad I ran into you. My parents would like you and Chastity to come over after church Sunday.”

      Rachel jerked upright, her gaze hitting his in surprise and dismay. How could she look Matt’s parents in the eye knowing she’d denied them their grandchild? “I don’t think—”

      “Mom insists. Besides, Chastity always enjoys our cookouts. Pam’s and Jake’s herds will be there.”

      Rachel vaguely remembered Matt’s siblings. “Pam and Jake have kids?”

      “Pam has three. Jake has two. They’d appreciate the company to even the numbers for volleyball and touch football.”

      Chastity had cousins. Cousins she could never claim. Guilt landed another punch in Rachel’s solar plexus. “I’ll check with Chastity.”

      “It’s just lunch, Rachel. She already eats half her meals with Pam’s daughter, Jessica.”

      Ahh, Jessica from last night. “Is this the same Jess who drives her mom’s car?”

      “Only on the family farm. Can I tell Mom you’ll be there? Or do I need to send her over to invite you?”

      She didn’t want that. “Yeah...we’ll be there.”

      “One o’clock.” Matt looked as if he were waiting for her to move on.

      She shifted in her shoes, reluctant to reveal her stupidity. She hated it even more when his gaze meandered over her sweat-soaked body again, making her feel as naked as she’d been the day she’d realized she loved him. “I’m, ah...not sure where I am. Could you give me directions?”

      She gave him points for not laughing. “This is Barnhill’s Dairy Road. It’s been paved since you lived here, and neighborhoods have replaced pastures. But you’ve been down this road before. It leads to the creek.”

      Where they’d often made out in his truck. Her cheeks burned. “Gotcha.”

      “Go to the end of the street. Take the next two lefts. That’ll get you back to Hope’s.”

      “Thanks.”

      “You sure you’re okay?”

      “Yes.”

      “You have water?” He offered his bottle.

      She didn’t. “I’m good, Coach.”

      “Rachel—” he warned.

      She couldn’t let her pride wipe her out. “Maybe a sip.”

      He unscrewed the cap and handed the plastic to her. She drank, fully aware that his lips had been exactly where hers were now. It didn’t help that he focused on her mouth. She gulped, then handed it back. He took the bottle and drank from it. Sharing seemed...intimate. But they’d shared so much more.

      She cleared her throat. “Thanks. See ya.”

      “You’re welcome.” He nodded, then took off.

      Rachel allowed herself a selfish moment to admire his backside and the strength of his long legs, then she yanked herself up by the hormones. It didn’t matter if Matt still had the best body on three continents. She wasn’t interested in resuming their relationship. And even if she were, she couldn’t chance it.

      * * *

      MATT GRITTED HIS teeth against the pain and continued putting one foot in front of the other. If he could fake it thirty more yards, he’d be out of Rachel’s sight.

      He finally reached the corner, then checked over his shoulder to confirm the coast was clear and collapsed against the first big oak tree. What in the hell had possessed him to sprint and catch up with her? He shouldn’t have been running without the knee brace. But when Rachel had raced past his window as if she was running for her life, he’d dropped his free weights, grabbed his water bottle and hauled butt after her.

      A high-pitched yap alerted him that he wasn’t alone. Mrs. Hines and her twin yippy dogs were coming his way. The sympathy in her smile and pity in her eyes wrenched his gut. Pity, for crissakes. He could handle anything but that.

      “’Morning, Matthew. Where’s Buddy?”

      He’d left so fast he’d forgotten his dog. “At home basking in the sun.”

      “Knee bothering you today?”

      He cursed his weakness and his need to conceal his limitations from people. Forcing a smile, he answered, “No. I’m good, thanks. You’re up early.”

      “My babies wanted their walk. Are you sure you’re okay? That was a mighty fierce scowl on your face.”

      “I’m fine. But thanks for your concern.”

      “My arthritis acts up when a storm front moves in. Maybe your injury does, too. I can call your mother if you need a ride home. I’m sure she’s already up and in her garden.”

      That was the last thing he wanted. Mom would kick into overprotective mode, and she’d lecture all the way home. “The exercise is good for me.”

      “If you’re sure.”

      “I am. Anyway, I have to set an example for my players. Have a good day, Mrs. Hines. I better head home if I’m going to make it to school on time.”

      She patted his biceps. “You’re still our star, Matthew. Don’t you ever forget that.”

      Humiliation scalded his neck. “Yes, ma’am.”

      He waved and walked away fighting every step not to limp.

      “Your house is the other way, son.”

      He winced. “I’m going around the block, then cutting through the cemetery.” Otherwise he might run into Rachel again. He didn’t want her to see him like this. At least she’d dumped him before he’d crashed and burned on the field. The play had tangled up in his head that fateful day. Dyslexia was like that. Twisting things.

      Usually, he could compensate, but sometimes when he was stressed, tired or distracted, things mixed up, and that day he’d thought he’d spotted Rachel in the stands. He’d been sacked, his knee destroyed, and just that quickly, his promising career had ended. Washed up at twenty-three. He’d returned to college for an advanced degree because he couldn’t bear going home a failure. When he had come back, the pity in the townsfolks’ eyes had burned him like acid. But he’d channeled his discomfort into being the best damned coach and athletic director he could be, and his team had made the championship again this year. He’d given the good citizens of Johnstonville another reason to be proud of him.

      On the walk home the image of Rachel distracted him. Her body had matured well. Her legs were as sleek as he remembered, but she’d added lean muscles, and her breasts were larger. Not even a top that flattened them could hide her pebbled nipples.

      His knee and crotch screamed for attention. He needed a cold shower and the ice pack he kept waiting in the freezer. Damn, he hated weakness. Almost as much as he hated realizing he wasn’t over Rachel Bishop.

      * * *

      RACHEL PALMED HER PHONE, knowing she was about to make her boss and the rest of her team very unhappy. She hoped Marcia wouldn’t fire her. She loved and needed her job, even if she hadn’t yet figured out who’d watch Chastity during her shifts.

      Marcia answered on the first ring. “Hey, Rachel. Home yet?”

      She took a deep breath, as if preparing to dive from a high cliff. “No. I’m going to need more time off.”

      Silence. “How much more time?”

      “Five weeks. Chastity isn’t taking to the idea of changing