Page 5 of Recipe for Rivals

But we can’t all be Dak Prescott.

So here I was, keeping my small town of Arcadia Creek from burning down and teaching the next Prescott how to land a tackle in my spare time.

Henry Gable sat at his desk, across from mine, tossing a football in the air and catching it. He was the high school’s head coach and uncle to my best friend, Tucker Fletcher. Almost everyone in this town was related in some way to Tucker, andsince the Fletchers had taken me under their wing when I was young and nearly abandoned, I felt related to the entire town, too.

“We need funds.” Henry put the football on his metal desk with a thud and rubbed a hand over his face, leaning back in his squeaky chair. We shared a small office right off the boys’ locker rooms at Arcadia Creek High School, which smelled of stale sweat and rubber. “The car wash didn’t bring in nearly enough money last fall. If we’re going to take the kids to camp this summer, we need to get thinking.”

I spun my pen on my desk. “Do we have cost breakdowns? Facility, transportation, food, all of that?”

Henry’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah. Even with the car wash funds, most of our kids can’t afford this camp on their own.”

I quit spinning the pen. I was one of those boys in high school who never would’ve stayed on the team if it wasn’t for the robust efforts of my coach—the worried man at the desk across from mine—and our fundraisers. Those summer camps were so important for the team. Not just for the skills practice and keeping the boys primed for football season, but also for the camaraderie and brotherhood they developed.

“We have a chance at state this year,” Henry whispered, almost reverently. “Brody can take us there. He has the team spirit and the talent to lead.”

“He’s also a bit of a hothead,” I mumbled. Watching Brody sometimes felt like looking into a mirror of my past, which wasn’t a good thing. Both of us raised by a grandparent, both of us abandoned by our parents as toddlers, both of us alone, poor, and quick to throw a punch.

I’d turned myself around. My parents were in and out through my earlier years, but I’d maintained a steady, healthy relationship with my grandpa, and he made me into the man I was today. Him and Coach Henry Gable.

Ten years later, Henry still wore a scowl and puzzled over how to help troubled youth on his team. The man deserved a trophy. Or, better yet, he deserved to coach a team that took him to state.

Brody had a chance. I shouldn’t be so pessimistic. If I could turn things around, so could he.

“I’ll be thinking,” I promised.

Henry sat up a little taller. “That date fundraiser your firehouse did a few months ago, you made a lot of money off that?”

My stomach tightened. I’d been part of a date raffle to earn money for the fire station, and Henry’s daughter had won my date. She’d been into me for a few years, but despite how honest I was about my lack of feelings, Gracie Mae hadn’t been able to take the hint. Or she’d flat out ignored it, which was far more likely. I’d been fairly blunt about wanting to remain just friends.

“Not as much money as the silent auction we did a few years ago,” I said. “What about a bake sale?”

“We need to think bigger.” Henry stared at the wall, his mind working. “What about another raffle, but we’ll keep you out of it.”

“No dates?”

“No dates,” he confirmed, then his gaze slid to me. “Unless you want to.”

I didn’t. Nothing against Gracie Mae, but taking her out was only fun when I forgot I was her date. She was a good friend. I just didn’t feel the connection that made me want to make her a girlfriend. I’d given it a solid effort over the years, but that sizzling, popping magic, feeling like I couldn’t wait to see her again once we left—I’d never had that with Gracie Mae. She was a wonderful person and a thoughtful friend, but that was all.

Not like the automatic zing I felt in my stomach when I saw the woman in the market. She’d looked so familiar, but maybe she just had one of those faces. She didn’t dress, talk, or act likeshe was from around here. The way she shot me down so swiftly left no room for misinterpretation.

Generally speaking, it wasn’t a habit of mine to flirt with a mom—which was exactly why I didn’t try. In fact, I was tryingnotto go that direction since I’d heard her talking to her kids. No one wants to get picked up in the middle of a grocery trip with two little kids in tow.

Or I imagined not, at least.

A knock rattled the blinds hanging over the door window. Gracie Mae pushed it open, her eyes falling on me for a full moment before shifting to her dad. “I brought you lunch.”

“Thanks, sugar.” His face crinkled into a smile, and he rose to take the bag from her, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. It smelled of burgers and fries from Gigi’s, making my mouth water. “You staying to eat with me?”

“Of course.” Her gaze moved to me, and she pushed her blonde hair behind her ear. “As long as I’m not interrupting.”

I stood, stretching my shoulders. “I need to get moving, anyway.”

“Be thinking about that raffle,” Henry said.

Gracie Mae’s eyes lit up. “Another date raffle?”

“No.” Henry dug around in the bag and pulled out a foil-covered burger and fries. “Just a raffle. Maybe we can convince Gigi to provide dinner at cost again.”