Holly deserved more than that. She deserved everything a man had to offer, including his heart. And that was something Alex had never offered to anyone.
So it was all for the best, right? They were both cowards when it came to love.
Not that this was about love, of course.
There was heat between them, even if Holly refused to face it, but there wasn’t love. Friendship, yes. Respect and affection, yes. A deep connection, yes—for him, anyway. And a long-standing crush that he had, apparently, never gotten over.
But love was about forever. And when it came to Holly, it was about Will, too. What in his track record would give anyone, including him, the idea that he was ready for love and commitment with a single mother and her teenage son?
No. Holly had been right to run from their kiss, even if she’d run out of fear. Alex had never believed in listening to fear, but when it came to his feelings for Holly, he was prepared to make an exception.
Saturday morning was Pancake Day, Will and Holly informed him when he came downstairs at ten o’clock. By the looks of things they’d already done some damage pancake-wise, and Holly was at the stove flipping three more. She grinned at him, wearing jeans and his Bengals jersey. Her hair was in a loose braid down her back.
“What did you do, raid my T-shirt drawer?”
She looked down. “Oh, right. Sorry. This is one of the shirts you brought me that first night. They’re so comfortable, and when I went shopping last week I sort of concentrated on work clothes and didn’t really get anything casual. Is it all right if I borrow it a little longer? This one and the Pittsburgh one? Just until I can get a few of my own.”
He waved it away. He was getting pretty good at that. Don’t worry, it’s as if it never happened, what’s a little toe-curling kiss among friends?
“No problem,” he said out loud. “Comfort is important.” He cleared his throat. “So what are you two doing today? Anything exciting planned?”
“I’m going to teach my mom to throw a football.”
Alex gave Holly a skeptical look as he dug into the huge pile of pancakes she put in front of him, which were, predictably, delicious. “Are you telling me you actually want to learn to throw a football?”
Holly grinned. “I wouldn’t say I’m brimming over with excitement, but in case you hadn’t noticed it’s a gorgeous fall day out there and running around in your enormous backyard has its appeal. I’m going to the gym later, too. I haven’t been since the fire, which is a mistake. Missing workouts always makes me cranky. My job is good for intellectual stimulation but not physical stimulation. I need both.”
Alex tried not to think of the physical stimulation he’d like to give Holly. He was turning into one of those guys who had a sexual thought every seven seconds and couldn’t say two words without one of them sounding like an innuendo.
He sighed. “I have about an acre of leaves to rake. I’ll keep you company.”
Will looked delighted. “That’s great! We’ll help you rake after we throw some passes. That’s good exercise, too, right, Mom?”
“Fine with me. I like creating order out of chaos, as you know. Raking is a very satisfying job. You start with a yard full of messy leaves and end up with tidy piles. Just my kind of thing.”
Holly was right: it was a gorgeous day. Blue, blue sky, and maple trees all around with leaves like flames. The colors looked as if they’d been drawn by a child: bright gold, brilliant red, burnt orange. The neighbors next door were burning leaves and the sharp, acrid scent drifted on the wind, mixing with the cold clean smell of the air and the dry sweet smell of the leaves everywhere, on the trees, underfoot, fluttering down onto their shoulders.
Holly was looking autumnal herself, with her copper-colored hair and the brown sweater she’d put on.
The raking was forgotten as the three of them ran around like little kids, occasionally tossing the football back and forth but mostly just running, spinning, taking in huge cleansing breaths of the autumn air.
After a half an hour of that Will decided it was time to get serious. “Okay, Mom, Alex will show you how to throw a spiral pass and I’ll be your receiver. Your hands are kind of small but I know you can do it.” He took off at a trot, stopping at a distance Holly thought was well beyond the point she might hope to heave a football.
The sunlight was brilliant and Holly squinted across the yard at her son. “He’s delusional,” she said as Alex handed her the football.
“He just has faith in you. You should be flattered. Now grip the ball with your fingers on the laces and plant that back foot like we talked about. Cock your arm back and—no, not like that.”