Mitch stared at the playbook in his hands, not seeing anything but Becca’s beautiful eyes, the spark of green and brown mesmerizing. Ironically, he had Linda to thank for pushing him and Becca together. Except he wasn’t sure how that had happened, exactly.Becca’s tiny white lie had spurred his own about his brother. And now he had to organize one kick-ass dinner to lure Becca to his home.
Great. What did the woman like to eat besides his ego?
“Hey, Flash, Coach Deacon wants you.”
He glanced up and thanked one of the freshman, then joined his brother on the sidelines.
Deacon glared at him. “Hey, asswipe, get your head on straight and focus, would you? Between the pub and your rumors, my life has been hell lately.”
“Rumors?” Damn. He’d meant to tell his brother about the grocery store but hadn’t had time.
“So, I’m into Nora Nielson, huh? Can you point her out to me? Because, you know, since I’m in lust with her, it might not hurt to know what the fuck she looks like.”
Mitch winced. “Sorry. I called an audible. I had Linda Madison on me, and Becca Bragg was there, and—”
“Ah. Now I see.” Deacon laughed at him. “All this was to get Simon’s pretty mom in your sights.”
“She has a name. And it’s more than ‘Simon’s pretty mom.’” Sometimes Deacon could be so irritating.
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, right. Look, let’s just focus on the game. We win this one, we get to the playoffs.”
“Yeah.” Deacon rubbed his hands together. “We’ll talk about you and your fixation onRebecca Bragglater.” He shouted to Dorset, and the mood turned intense.
Mitch concentrated on football. Or tried to. Easier said than done knowing Becca sat in the stands. Though she came to watch her son, he swore he could feel her stare burning into his back a time or two.
The close game didn’t help matters. He felt on edge, ready to explode if the refs made one more stupid ruling.
“Are you kidding me?” he yelled after one particularly bogus holding call. “Deacon, isn’t this our school? Why are they making calls for the other team?”
Stan and Dorset agreed, and even Paglitelli nodded while he conferred with the substitutes waiting to go in.
“Don’t get all mouthy,” Deacon warned. “The refs don’t like it.”
“Yeah? Well I don’t like the calls.” But seeing the kids tuning in to his displeasure, Mitch tamped it down. Nothing worse than having a coach set a bad example.
“I don’t like them either,” Simon said, sidling next to him.
“Shouldn’t you be in right now?”
“Coach P. wanted Rocco to get a shot. He’s a senior, and he’s been doing well.” Simon shrugged. “I didn’t want to come out, but it’s Rocco’s last game. His parents are moving next week.”
“Oh, right.” The poor kid would have to miss playoffs if the team made them. Mitch glared at the haphazard mess rushing down the field. “Christ, Deacon. Do something.” He waved at the offense.
“I am,” Deacon growled back. “Asshole.”
“Dick.” Mitch turned to see Simon grinning at him. “What?”
“Must be nice to have your brother so close.”
“It has its moments.”
They watched their team advance slowly. Up by three points, they really needed to nail a field goal, at least. With another quarter to play, too much time remained for things to go wrong.
“So, you and my mom.” Simon had pitched his voice low.
Mitch tensed but forced himself to show no reaction. “What?”
