"I'd say it's a little more complex than that," he responded, an actual bounce in his demeanor as he smiled bigger than I'd ever seen before. He may have been smiling more frequently, but right then, I realized I hadn't seen anything yet.
Lexi, as though she could feel the happiness radiating off of him, finally left her little bubble and glanced up at his face. "Wes! Now we're three."
"Hi, Lexi." And the smile deepened even further.
Good Lord, I'm in real trouble here.
"We're three?" he asked me curiously.
"There are three of us," I explained.
"Ah," he breathed, looking back down to Lex just as she moved her eyes to his throat and smiled. She was getting used to him, genuinely happy to see him, but still too overwhelmed by the complexities of his unfamiliar face to look him in the eye.
You're not alone, sister.
He pointed toward her notepad. "What are you doing there?"
"A linear equation. Each term is either a constant or the product of a constant and a single variable. Example: linear equation with only one variable. Ax plus B equals zero. A and B are the constants, and A does not equal zero."
Wes's smile, having barely faded at all, went back to full wattage.
"Mommy, linear equations."
"Wow, baby."
Seriously. Wow.
"I wish I could do them with you-"
Not a fucking chance I could do them with her. Watch her maybe.
"But I need to finish up a few things. Maybe we can do some when we get home."
Disappointment clouded her face instantly, and an arrow of guilt, sharp and unrelenting, stabbed me over and over again in the gut.
"Do you want to come down to the field with me?" Wes asked Lex, squatting down to get on her level, and I could feel my whole face freeze in shock. The skin felt tight, and my eyes rivaled fucking saucers.
"You don't have to do that-"
He waved me off and pushed to standing.
"No, this is perfect. She can come hang out with me on the field, and if I forget any of my players' stats, her brilliant little mind will come in handy."
I stared at him for a long moment, taken aback by the much-needed offer. I was starting to wonder if all of my assumptions about him were true. I felt like maybe there was a whole other side to Wes Lancaster, but trusting it as real seemed like a venture into idiocy.
Lex jumped up from her seat and put her hand in Wes's, his offer to take her with him as good as an order to her. Her mind worked in absolutes, and it really had never even occurred to her that I might say no.
Wes's surprised eyes still met mine in question, though.
"Sure. Why not." I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. "Be on your best behavior for Wes, and I'll come down to the field and get you in a little bit."
"How many minutes, Mommy?"
My daughter. The time stickler. The mere idea of her need for structure made me smile.
I glanced at the clock and calculated the time as quickly as I could in my head.
"Forty-nine minutes, baby."
Lex looked to the clock to do some math of her own. "It's 5:11 p.m. You'll come get me at six o'clock."
I smiled. "That's right, sweetheart."
And with that, Wes looked to Lexi's little hand in his as she led him out of the office, glancing back to me just once before they completely disappeared from sight.
In his eyes? Wonder.
Holy moly, if you're not careful, you're going to want a lot more from Wes Lancaster than just hot sex …
At exactly 5:55 p.m., I stood on the field, watching Wes kneel in front of my daughter, holding a football in the kicking position as Lexi stared down at him in absolute fascination.
Even crouched down below her, he looked like a giant compared to my little girl.
A surprisingly gentle giant.
And as I saw the adoration on her face as she continued to listen intently to whatever he was saying, I couldn't deny that my heart skipped more than a few beats.
I was five minutes early on purpose, knowing that Lex watched the clock like a hawk, and the strike of six would mean she was ready to pack it in-and I wanted to sneak a few peeks at the action before that.
The team was finishing up for the night, on the opposite end of the field, huddled together and deep in game plan conversation, leaving Lexi and Wes in a huddle of their very own.
I moved closer, carefully, so I could hear their conversation without either of them realizing I was there.
With the skill of a man used to children, he gently held her ankle as he showed her the correct way to kick the football. From the look on his face, I didn't think either of us expected it to come so naturally.
"You're going to come at the ball in a three-quarters type of position, Lex. And then keep your ankle locked and drive your foot all the way through the ball. Locked knee. Locked ankle."
He demonstrated the motion with her leg, rather than showing her with his own, and my chest squeezed. The fact that he'd so quickly figured out how to best help her learn proved how closely he paid attention, and having failed to master my poker face, I wasn't sure I was ready for him to pay that close attention to me.
"Why?"
He grinned up at her. "Because your body will generate a little skip, and that's where the power is going to come from. And just remember, the ball always needs to be lined up with the laces pointed toward the field goal," he explained as he ran his fingers down the white laces of the football.
"Why?"
"Because it will make the ball go farther."
"Why?"
He paused for a brief moment, and then his grin grew wider. "When you kick the ball from the back seams, that's the spot that creates maximum compression."
She nodded in understanding. "Compression makes the football travel farther and higher."
"That's right."
"Where do I stand? I'm predominantly right-footed. But sometimes, ambidextrous."
Geez. If Wes smiles any harder, his lips are going to tear right off his face.
"Since you're right-footed, for most people they need to stand about three large paces back and two paces to the left of the ball. But it will take a little practice before you find what's comfortable for you."
"I'm going to practice every single day for exactly sixty minutes."
Wes chuckled softly. "Well, then I think it's safe to say, in about fifteen years, I'll be offering you a spot on the Mavericks."
Lexi's smile was brighter than the sun. My eyes stung. All kinds of emotions were bubbling somewhere deep inside me, and I wasn't ready. Not to face it, not to question it, and not to fucking find out it wasn't real. I pictured a fist and mentally tamped it down so hard I almost choked.
"Now, when you make contact with the ball, aim for the ‘sweet spot,' which is about four inches above the bottom tip of the football. Where you make contact with the ball is very important because it allows you to manipulate the distance and height that the football will travel."
"Ten point two centimeters from the bottom tip of the football."
"Exactly." Wes smirked. "Do you want to give it a try?"
Lexi nodded enthusiastically and did exactly what he'd instructed, taking three steps back and then two steps to the left of the ball. Her little legs moved quickly toward the ball as she tried her first attempt at kicking a field goal.
I watched on with amusement and pride as the football flew through the air higher and faster than I honestly thought my pint-sized daughter would've been capable of.
She immediately started jumping up and down in excitement.
Wes stood up and grinned down at her in a way a proud father would, and I couldn't help but wonder if he even knew that was the look he was giving my daughter. "Holy sh-hel-heck!" he cheered. "You nailed it!" He picked her up, spun her around, and then set her back down on her little feet.
Her eyebrows pulled together at the impossibilities. "I don't have a hammer."
Wes laughed and shook his head at himself, putting a hand to her shoulder and giving it a very brief squeeze. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Figuring it was time to make my presence known, I cupped two hands around my mouth and shouted, "Way to go, Lexi!"
She turned around and, at the sight of me, immediately started sprinting in my direction. It didn't take her long to make it to me.
"I was so accurate!" she yelled as she threw herself into my arms.
I hugged her tightly to my chest, breathed in her shampoo and soap and everything that was my daughter, and laughed. "You were! You did amazing!"
"I want to play football again!"
Wes's soft laugh filled my ears as he came to a slow stop in front of us. "I think you should get her on a team, Win. She has a natural talent for it."
"How many minutes until I play football again?"
"Honey-"
"How many hours?" she adjusted.
"Lex-"
She breathed a deep sigh, her face sinking desperately. "Days?"