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Ryland James said he’d find us a coach, he will.”

      She’d been disappointed too many times to put that much faith into someone. Ryland had seemed sincere and enthusiastic. But so had others. Best not to raise Connor’s hopes too high on the chance his favorite player didn’t come through after all. “Ryland said he’d try. He’s going to call me.”

      “Have you checked your voice mail yet?” Connor asked.

      His eagerness made her smile. She’d been wondering when the call might come herself. They both needed to be realistic. “I just saw Ryland a couple hours ago.”

      “Hours? He could have found us five coaches by now.”

      She doubted that.

      “All Ryland James has to do is snap his fingers and people will come running,” Connor continued.

      Lucy could imagine women running to the gorgeous Ryland. She wasn’t so sure the same could be said about coaches. Not unless they were female.

      “Check your cell phone,” Connor encouraged.

      The kid was relentless … like his dad. “Give Ryland time to snap his fingers. I mean, make calls. I know this is important to you, but a little patience here would be good.”

      “You could call him.”

      No, she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. “He said he’d call. Rushing him wouldn’t be nice.”

      She also didn’t want to give Ryland the wrong impression so he might think she was interested in him. A guy like him meant one thing—heartbreak. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

      “Let’s give him at least a day, maybe two, to call us, okay?” she suggested.

      “Okay,” Connor agreed reluctantly.

      She bit back a laugh. “How about some cookies and milk while you tell me about school?”

      Maybe that would get Ryland James out of Connor’s thoughts. And hers, too.

      “Sure.” As he walked toward the kitchen, he looked back at her. “So does Ryland James have a soccer field in his backyard?”

      Lucy swallowed a sigh. And then maybe not.

      After dinner, Ryland retreated with Cupcake into the media room aka his dad’s man cave. He had all he needed—laptop, cell phone, chocolate-chip cookies, Lucy’s business card and a seventy-inch LED television with ESPN playing. As soon as Ryland found Lucy a coach for her nephew’s team, he would call her with the good news.

      Forget the delicious cookies she’d made. The only dessert he wanted was to hear her sweet voice on the opposite end of the phone.

      Ryland laughed. He must need some feminine attention if he felt this way.

      But seeing Lucy again had made him feel good. She also had him thinking about the past. Many of his childhood memories living in Wicksburg were like bad dreams, ones he’d pushed to the far recesses of his mind and wanted to keep there. But a few others, like the ones he remembered now, brought a welcome smile to his face.

      Cupcake lay on an Indianapolis Colts dog bed.

      Even though Ryland played soccer, his dad preferred football, the American kind. But his dad had never once tried to change Ryland’s mind about what sport to play. Instead, his father had done all he could so Ryland could succeed in the sport. He would be nowhere without his dad and his mom.

      And youth soccer.

      He’d learned the basic skills and the rules of the game playing in the same rec. league Aaron’s son played in. When Ryland moved to a competitive club, playing up a year from his own age group, his dad’s boss, Mr. Buckley, who owned a local farm, bought Ryland new cleats twice a year. Not cheap ones, but the good kind. Mr. Martin, Aaron and Lucy’s dad, would drive Ryland to away games and tournaments when his parents had to work.

      Lucy taking care of Aaron’s son didn’t surprise Ryland. The Martins had always been a loyal bunch.

      In elementary school, other kids used to taunt him. Aaron stood up for Ryland even before they were teammates. Once they started playing on the same team, they became good friends. But Ryland had wanted to put Wicksburg behind him when he left.

      And he had.

      He’d focused all his effort and energy into being the best soccer player he could be.

      Now that he was back in town, finding a soccer coach was the least he could do for his old friend Aaron. Ryland pressed the mute button on the television’s remote then picked up his cell phone. This wouldn’t take long.

      Two hours later, he disconnected from yet another call. He couldn’t believe it. No matter whom he’d spoken with, the answer was still the same—no. Only the reason for not being able to coach changed.

      “Wish I could help you out, Ryland, but I’m already coaching two other teams.”

      “Gee, if I’d known sooner …”

      “Try the high school. Maybe one of the students could do it as a class project or something.”

      Ryland placed his cell phone on the table. Even the suggestion to contact the high school had led to a dead end. No wonder Lucy had asked him to coach Connor’s team.

      Ryland looked at Cupcake. “What am I going to do?”

      The dog kept her eyes closed.

      “Go ahead. Pretend you don’t hear me. That’s what everyone else has done tonight.”

      Okay, not quite. His calling had resulted in four invitations to dinner and five requests to speak to soccer teams. Amazing how things and his status in town had changed. All his hard work had paid off. Though he was having to start over with Mr. McElroy and the Fuego.

      “I need to find Lucy a coach.”

      Cupcake stretched.

      Something flashed on the television screen. Highlights from a soccer match.

      Yearning welled inside him. He missed the action on the field, the adrenaline pushing through him to run faster and the thrill of taking the ball toward the goal and scoring. Thinking about playing soccer was making him nostalgic for days when kids, a ball and some grass defined the game in its simplest and purest form.

      Lucy’s business card caught his eye.

      Attraction flared to life. He wanted to talk to her. Now.

      Ryland picked up his cell phone. He punched in the first three digits of her number then placed the phone back on the table.

      Calling her tonight would be stupid. Saying he wanted to hear her voice might be true, but he didn’t want to push too hard and scare her off. Other women might love a surprise phone call, but Lucy might not. She wasn’t like the women he dated.

      That, he realized, surprisingly appealed to him. Sitting in his parents’ living room eating cookies and talking with a small-town girl had energized him in a way no visit to a top restaurant or trendy club with a date ever had.

      Ryland stared at the cell phone. He wanted to talk to her, but if he called her he would have to admit his inability to find her a coach. That wouldn’t go over well.

      With him, he realized with a start. Lucy wouldn’t be upset. She’d thank him for his efforts then take on the coaching role herself.

      I can always coach, if need be.

       You play soccer?

      No, but I’ve been reading up on the game and watching coaching clips on the internet just in case.

      He imagined her placing a whistle around her graceful neck and leading a team of boys at practice. Coaching would be nothing compared to what Lucy went through when she was sick. She would figure out the basics of what needed to be done

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