hungry right now. Um—hadn’t you two better get to your seats? The game will start any minute.” He assumed they’d seen him sitting there and had impulsively come over to share their treats with him. Apparently, these two had decided he was their pal—which was all very well, but he doubted their folks would approve of them joining him without permission.
Rather than moving on, Mark settled onto the bench between Riley and Teresa. “I’m going to sit here.”
“But I want to sit by Riley,” Maggie protested.
Wondering where their parents were, Riley glanced at Teresa. She looked thoroughly startled, he thought. He couldn’t blame her, of course. She probably hadn’t expected him to be descended on by a couple of chatty kids.
“How on earth?” she began, only to be interrupted by Mark, who informed his sister that he had already claimed the spot by Riley.
“But I want to sit there!” Maggie glared at her brother, then at Teresa. “Mommy, make him move over.”
While Riley tried to decide if he’d heard Maggie correctly, Mark scooted defiantly closer, leaving no room for his sister. “You sit by Mom,” he insisted. “The guys can sit together, can’t we, Riley?”
“That’s not fair. Mommy!”
Her eyes still locked on Riley’s face, Teresa murmured absently, “Mark. Maggie. That’s enough.”
“You mean you’re—” Riley began.
“How did you—” Teresa started to say at the same time. Each fell silent to allow the other to speak.
Maggie settled the argument with her brother by climbing onto Riley’s knee and snuggling against his chest. “Will you open my candy for me?” she asked, holding the package up to him.
Either Riley had recently developed an irresistible magnetism for children, or these were the friendliest two kids he’d ever encountered. He was pretty sure that the last time he’d had an eight-year-old girl in his lap he’d been the same age. Debbie Glover had plopped herself down on his knee and tried to kiss him.
This scene was almost as disturbing.
Teresa tried again to speak over the pandemonium. “Riley, when did you meet my—”
“Please rise for the national anthem,” the announcer’s voice boomed from overhead.
“Stand up, Mom,” Mark urged, leaping to his feet.
Riley set Maggie on the bench beside him when he stood, keeping a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Teresa leaned closer to Riley as the band launched into the anthem and the crowd surrounding them began to sing. “Where did you meet my kids?”
“At the park the other day. But I didn’t know they were yours. I didn’t even know you had kids.”
“Shh,” Maggie whispered loudly. “You’re not s’posed to talk during the anthem. My teacher says it’s disrespectful.”
Properly chastised, Riley and Teresa fell silent, though they continued to give each other searching looks. Riley was trying to figure out how he could have known Teresa for almost a month without finding out she had two children.
With gossip such a popular pastime in this typical small town, he generally heard everything about everyone eventually. But then, Teresa was new in town and didn’t seem to have gotten involved in the community yet. With the exception of finding her on the side of a road with a flat tire, he’d never seen her anywhere other than the Rainbow Café.
So why hadn’t Marjorie told him about the children? All she had told Riley was that Teresa had met her younger daughter, Serena, in college and had come to her recently looking for a job. Marjorie had teased Riley about his obvious attraction to Teresa—without once mentioning that he’d been flirting with the mother of two. He couldn’t help wondering if that omission had been intentional. Marjorie knew him well enough to be aware of his policy against dating anyone with kids.
He’d been aware, of course, that Marjorie had been not so subtly nudging him toward asking Teresa out. Marjorie was a compulsive matchmaker, and he knew she’d never completely given up on fixing him up with someone despite his repeated admonitions to her that he wasn’t the marrying kind. But he’d never realized that dear, softhearted, well-intentioned lady could be downright devious.
The crowd remained on their feet as the two teams charged onto the field and held the kickoff. The Eagles were the receivers, taking the ball on their own twenty-five-yard line. Only then did Riley sit down. Maggie plopped onto his knee almost before he was fully settled. “I can see better here,” she announced, then popped a handful of candies in her mouth.
“Maggie, Mr. O’Neal wants to watch the game,” Teresa said, looking flustered. “Come sit on my lap.”
“I can see better here.” It seemed inconceivable to the little girl that her presence would not be desired anywhere.
“But—”
“She’s okay, Teresa.” Riley cut in. “I’ll send her to you if my leg goes to sleep.”
Her expression was a mixture of apology and bemusement. Apparently she was still having trouble understanding how Riley and her children had become so chummy.
He was having a little trouble figuring that out himself.
Mark wasn’t content to be ignored for long. He tapped Riley’s arm and pointed toward the field. “Why did the judges throw down those yellow flags? Who did something wrong?”
“They’re called referees,” Riley answered. “And the other team just got a fifteen-yard penalty because one of their players grabbed our receiver’s face mask to pull him down. It’s a stupid mistake—especially this early in the game—and a major violation because it could cause serious injuries. Our team is fifteen yards closer to a touchdown.”
“Now what are they doing?”
Riley patiently answered Mark’s questions and Maggie’s ramblings throughout the first quarter. It was very difficult, he discovered, to concentrate on the game with two kids competing for his attention. There was little chance to talk with Teresa, and he would certainly have felt awkward flirting with her in front of her children, anyway.
He was aware that he was drawing quite a bit of attention from the spectators around them. He had no doubt the word would soon be all over town that he’d attended a football game with Teresa Scott and her two kids. Wouldn’t that cause avid speculation?
He lasted until halftime. Maggie had fallen asleep by then—and so had Riley’s left arm. Growing bored with football, Mark had pulled a Gameboy out of his mother’s purse and was industriously pursuing Pokémon.
“I think I’d better head for the press box now,” Riley said, standing to deposit Maggie into her mother’s arms. “I promised to check in with our high school sports reporter to see if he needs any help.”
Which was at least partially true. Riley had told the young man he would read over the copy—but not necessarily during the game.
“Are you coming back? Can I come with you?” Mark asked eagerly.
Teresa
