He kicked the soccer ball at Thomas. Hard. Thomas managed to block it with his shin and herded it to a stop with both feet, but it stung. “So you want to play like that, huh?”
Thomas kicked the soccer ball back. “A bit of bare skin won’t scare me away.”
Zach blocked it with ease. “Guess I’ll have to try harder.” He kicked the ball back with even more force than before.
The impact of the ball against his legs hurt like hell but Thomas wouldn’t give the boy the satisfaction of showing it. Zach might look small but he had one hell of a kick.
“You can try to scare me off but I happen to like your mom. A lot.”
He winged the ball back. Maybe this was what they needed. A one-on-one. Man to man.
Zach narrowed his eyes and intercepted the ball. Thomas widened his stance and braced for the stinging pain.
“You want to screw her and then leave her, you mean?”
Fury and shock punched Thomas in the gut. His vision reddened. How dare the little jackass insinuate that he was only here to get laid? Zach hauled back and let loose.
“Now you listen to—” Pain exploded over his eye, turning the red fury into nothingness. He couldn’t see a single thing except blackness and pulsing starbursts. Son of a bitch, the kid had probably given him a black eye. He heard the house door bang open and footsteps running to his side.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Brianna cried. She pulled his hands down from his face and peered into his eyes. “Hold still. You might have a concussion.”
He blinked rapidly. His entire face throbbed. As his vision cleared, he caught Zach’s eye. The boy snickered behind his hand and turned away. Thomas clenched his teeth and focused on Brianna again.
“I’m fine,” he managed. “A little ice and a few Advil would be nice, though.”
“What happened?’ she asked, then shot her son a look. “Did you do this on purpose?”
Zach froze. “So what if I did? He’s annoying.”
“Zachary, go to your room. No—first call Joey and tell him you can’t make the game tomorrow, then go to your room.” Brianna planted her hands on her hips, back straight and stiff. “I’m very disappointed in you. What would your father think about your behavior?”
Zach seemed to snap at her words. Anger tinged every word he spat out. “He’d be happy! This loser has no right coming into our lives. Taking you from Dad. Trying to play soccer with me. Who the hell asked him to do that?”
“Room. Now. Put a quarter in the swear jar on the way.” Brianna lifted her chin. “I invited him here and I’ll continue to do so whether you like it or not. Now go to your room.”
The boy glowered at Thomas one last time before stomping into the house and slamming the door shut behind him. Brianna’s shoulders slumped. She returned to Thomas’s side with a sigh.
“I’m so sorry for this. How bad is it?”
“It’s fine. Really.” He paused. “Don’t be too angry with him. I get why he feels that way. He doesn’t want to see you with anyone but his father.”
Zach was likely angry, confused, and bitter, Thomas thought. It was normal. But he needed to learn to express those feelings in healthier ways.
Ways that didn’t leave Thomas with a black eye.
“His reasons don’t make it acceptable,” she said. Her fingers brushed gently over his face, searching. He could tell her exactly where it hurt…but then she might stop touching him. “Do you still want to come in?”
“Yes, I do. I told you a surly teen won’t scare me away.” Or your hot-and-cold behavior. “As long as you want me here and keep me readily stocked with painkillers, I’m coming in.”
A hint of a smile softened her face. “In that case, follow me. We’ll get you some ice.”
She captured his hand, her skin warm against his, and led him inside. Once she got him settled on the couch, she hurried into the kitchen. Thomas leaned back against the cushions, smiling despite his aching face. This was so domestic—an angry teen, a doting mother. Almost like he was part of the family.
A man could get used to this.
Brianna returned and scooted next to him on the couch. Sighing, she pressed the blue ice pack to his brow, her eyes locked on him. “You’re going to bruise pretty badly.”
He brushed his fingers down her cheek. “Worth it.”
Something flickered across her face. Something he couldn’t make out. With a muttered curse, she lurched to her feet and headed back toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you some Advil.”
“Thanks,” he called, but she was already gone.
Why was she retreating from him? Whenever he seemed to get too close, to become too much a part of her life, she pulled away. He’d thought she wanted this—wanted something more than a brief fling. Wanted someone who could be a partner, stable and steady, and worthy of being in her kids’ lives. He was trying to be that for the short time he would be here. Then they could try a long-distance relationship or something like that. Hell, maybe he would even accept the position out here if things went well. But to know that? She had to let him in.
Maybe she’d decided Thomas Jones, f**ked-up marketing executive, wasn’t worthy.
He stilled. That thought hurt more than the throbbing in his skull, and that was saying a hell of a lot. How had this woman come to matter so much to him in so little time?
And if he was honest with himself, was he all of the things she wanted for her and her kids?
She returned with a tumbler of whiskey and two pills. Her mouth quirked wryly as she handed both over. “I figured this would work better than water.”
“You figured right.” He popped the pills and washed them down with the alcohol. The burning sensation slid down his throat and into his chest, easing the headache…if not the heartache. “Thanks.”
“So what did Zach say?”
Thomas nearly choked on the last sip of his drink. “What?”
Her mouth set. “You heard me. You told me you played through college. I doubt you’d miss an easy pass, so what did he say to make you miss it?”
No way. She didn’t need to know this one. “Don’t worry about it. It’s between the two of us.”
Her jaw tightened. “Thomas…”
“It’s fine. I’ll handle it.” He pressed the ice tighter to his eye and grimaced. “Don’t worry about him, either. Kid can kick.”