He pressed his lips together. “I was a professional football player.”
“What? Tell me you’re joking?” Of course. The wide shoulders, the muscular build and tone. The good looks that would slay a thousand girls.
Then something else dropped into her head. “A real footballer or an American footballer?”
He looked surprised. “Isn’t there only one kind? American football is real football.”
She shook her head as the owner approached with their food. “No way. American football is just barging people with a strange shaped ball. Real football is proper football. What do you call it over here? Soccer?” She gave a shudder. “In Glasgow, football is football. There is only one kind and it’s not the kind you played. You know everyone in Glasgow supports one of two teams. And most girls I know could tell you the offside rule.”
He straightened up. “Hold on. You think American football isn’t real football?”
Paige set the plates down with a huge grin on her face. “Whoa. I’m getting out of here before this gets nasty.”
Emma couldn’t help the cheeky grin. She reached over and grabbed his burger, taking a whopping big bite.
Mitch just shook his head with a chuckle. “You could have ordered one.”
She raised her eyebrows. “But I think someone else’s always tastes better.”
He picked up her fork and stole a piece of her pie. “Mmm, the pecan pie in here is great.”
“You could have ordered a piece.” She taunted.
He gave her a flirtatious kind of smile. “Stealing someone else’s is always more fun.”
It was the glint in his eye. The hint of something else. And the way he was looking at her gave her a little buzz.
But it shouldn’t. Of course it shouldn’t. He was just being friendly, right?
Or maybe he wasn’t.
Was Marietta’s resident hunk flirting with her? Because so much had happened in the last forty-eight hours, she couldn’t be sure of anything. Least of all the shade of those green eyes fixed on hers at the other side of the table.
He smiled. Straight, perfect white teeth.
She picked up her own fork to attack the pecan pie that was wafting a gorgeous aroma up her nose. “Your teeth are too perfect. You can’t possibly have been one of those pushy-shovy guys.”
“Pushy-shovy? That’s what you think of American football?”
“I think I want cream with this. Can you call Paige back over?”
“Not until we talk about the best kind of football.”
She took it as a challenge. She liked it. Mitch Holden had a sense of humor. He had to if he was a high school teacher.
She shook her head. “Let’s face it. We’re not going to agree. Get me some cream then tell me why you gave it up.”
Something she couldn’t read at all flitted across his eyes. He signaled to Paige. “Can the crazy Scotswoman have some cream?”
Paige nodded and appeared with a jug. “Has the fight over football finished?”
He gave a laugh. “Oh, we’re just getting started.”
Paige left the cream and retreated. Emma poured it over the pie and started again. “So, why did you leave?”
He gave a simple answer with a fixed kind of smile on his face. “Like most guys who play sports, I got injured. Happens all the time. I couldn’t get back to the full fitness required for a professional football player so I had to find something else.”
Suddenly the delicious pie didn’t taste quite so good. He said it so matter-of-fact. But he couldn’t hide the glimmer of hurt in his eyes. It was there so clearly that she wanted to reach across the table and squeeze his hand.
She had seen American football on TV. She couldn’t avoid it in the US. It was a spectacle. The football stars were heroes. Everyone loved them. They were everywhere. How must it feel to go from that – to injury – and then to this? She couldn’t even begin to comprehend how he must have felt.
“And Marietta?”
He gave a smile. And this time the smile felt real. Not forced. “Good luck, I suppose.”
The words struck her. She’d had this conversation with Chris Krinkles last night. He’d told her it was good luck to land here. Maybe he knew more than she thought?
“I knew someone else who worked at the high school. They needed a varsity coach and thought I’d be perfect. I started on a temporary basis and realized how much I enjoyed it.” He stared off into the distance for a second. “There’s something about that age. The passion. The hunger for it. I’d been there and knew how to harness it. I could remember feeling exactly like that.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “After a few semesters, I realized I wanted to do more. Kids trusted me. They spoke to me all the time about their issues, their problems at school and at home, and I thought I could help them. So, for the first time in ten years, I studied. I got some extra qualifications so I could be a school counselor. I decided that I wanted to call Marietta home.”
She sat down her fork. “Wow. No wonder the kids love you.”
“Who said they did?”
“Eliza, for one.”
He gave a sigh. “I get the impression that Eliza gives everyone wonderful references. You can’t rely on her.”
Emma took a sip of her coffee. “I kind of like her. She seems kind. And Bramble House? Well, I guess it kind of took me by surprise.” She glanced out of the window. “To be honest, the whole of Marietta has kind of taken me by surprise.”
Their gazes met. She didn’t feel awkward. For some reason, she felt completely comfortable sitting here and meeting the gaze of Marietta’s resident hunk.
The rumble-tumble maelstrom of thoughts she’d had since yesterday finally seemed to quieten.
And all that was left was Mitch.
Chapter Five
‡
School would be out soon for Christmas. The last couple of years had made him antsy during the Christmas period. When he was working, he didn’t have time for much of anything else. It was amazing how around four hundred hormone-driven teenagers filled with angst could envelop your whole days.
It kept him from thinking about other things. Like having a family of his own. Like how that wasn’t a possibility anymore. Like how he hadn’t really revealed the true nature of his injuries to anyone.
Dating was fine. Dating kept him busy. But as soon as any of his potential love interests gave the slightest hint of things getting more serious – a toothbrush in the bathroom, a change of clothes in a drawer, he ended things as quickly and with as little fuss as possible.
Mitch Holden was never the bad guy. He’d never wanted to be.
But Christmas was a weird kind of time of year. Christmas generally meant family.
He had one, of course. A mom and dad and a sister with four gorgeous kids. She seemed to have got everyone’s share. And he was always invited back to California at Christmas. California with the blistering heat and beachfront Christmas dinners. But since his accident he just couldn’t manage it.
His parents and sister had accepted his explanation of hernias and a career ending back injury. And whilst he visited them all separately during the year, he found Christmas just too hard.
Experiencing Christmas in Marietta, in Montana with its freezing temperatures and snow-covered peaks, was something entirely different and a little bit special.
And even though he was on his own – he’d never been alone at Christmas here. Friends and colleagues always invited him for Christmas dinner and celebrations. He could join them for a few hours, have dinner and a few laughs, then he could retreat back to his home and have a beer on his own, as he tried not to be too melancholy.
And Marietta was busy at Christmas. He always volunteered for something. Whether that was helping with something on the schools grounds or helping with one of the community events, he liked to still be around, still be available for his students. He was wise enough to understand that not everyone celebrated Christmas the way his family did. He’d lear
ned quickly he wasn’t just a teacher during school hours.
So that was why he couldn’t understand why he was here, in The Graff, having breakfast, when he had good eggs and bacon at home, and he was expected at a youth football game in an hour.
He felt mildly uncomfortable. What if Emma didn’t really want to see him? Was Mitch Holden being a tiny bit stalkerish? Because that really horrified him. That wasn’t him at all.
He pushed away the menu and stood up. This was crazy.
“Ooft!”
His chair crashed backwards straight into Emma. She landed on the floor at his feet.
“Oh no. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head and laughed. “Talk about trying to get the waitresses attention…”
She caught his gaze and must have noticed the worried expression on his face because she held out her hand towards him. “Help me up, Montana man.”