Winner Takes All by Erin Kern Read Free Book Online

practically feel Annabelle’s deep sigh. “I think he’ll be a good coach for the team.”
    Matt laughed and swung his legs to the side of the bench and stood. “Is that all you think, Ms. Turner?”
    Annabelle hooked her hand over her slim hip and tilted her head at the boy. “I think Mr. Carpenter is misunderstood by a lot of people.” Her ponytail slipped over her shoulder when she shrugged. “I think he’s had a rough couple of years and maybe just wants to put his life back together. After all, doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”
    Blake turned from the doorway, not waiting to hear Matt’s reply. Because the ringing in his ears would have drowned it out anyway.
    How could one woman confuse him so much, yet understand him more than anyone else?
    He didn’t want her understanding him, but at the same time her words had been something he’d yearned to hear for a long time. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, heck yeah he wanted a second chance. Perhaps that was why he’d taken this job in the first place. To prove to the world, and himself, that he wasn’t down and out. That he wasn’t the dirtbag, lying cheater people thought he was. The fact that Annabelle Turner, a woman who’d narrowed her eyes at him as much as she’d mentally undressed him, saw right through his I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude shocked the hell out him.
    Because he either wasn’t as closed off as he thought he was.
    Or Ms. Turner was more in tune to him than he wanted.
      
    “You getting tired, old man?” Brandon prodded as they pounded the pavement of the greenbelt that cut through the city park. Brandon’s dog, Duke, kept pace with them on his red leash, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he slung doggy slobber everywhere. Blake had a fierce competitive streak, one of the reasons he’d been such a successful quarterback. Unfortunately a bum knee put a serious cramp in his need to outrun his cousin. Blake knew he shouldn’t be pushing himself so hard, but giving less than 100 percent wasn’t his style.
    Thirty-four wasn’t old, but, shit, some days he felt like his body was falling apart. The OxyContin he’d popped that morning, prescribed by his doctor, numbed the pain enough for him to run. But he still felt out of sorts. Out of shape. Off his game.
    And the burning need to toss back another pill coursed through his veins like an attack of fire ants.
    “I’m fine. Just wouldn’t want you to trip and ruin your pretty face.” Blake quickened his pace and resisted the urge to rub his knee. “Heads up. Beehive Mafia at two o’clock.”
    Brandon muttered a curse.
    “I’m sure they’ll have the pics up before you’re done with your shower.” Blake couldn’t help smirking. As much as he teased his cousin, though, he knew more than anyone that Brandon would give a stranger the shirt off his back and his last dollar if they needed it.
    Blake often teased his cousin that he was one of the last heroic bachelors left in Blanco Valley. All one had to do was look at how he’d single-handedly raised a rowdy little boy into an ambitious teenager. Matt was Brandon’s world, which for some reason had women practically tripping over themselves to get a piece of the guy. Few women had succeeded to penetrate that tough armor Brandon placed around himself and his son, though.
    “Matt looked good on the field yesterday,” Blake told his cousin after they’d jogged in silence for a few minutes. He tossed Brandon a quick look, but the expression in his eyes was hidden by a pair of dark sunglasses. And the sun wasn’t even out. “Better than the first practice.”
    “Then you know more than I do,” Brandon answered. “The kid won’t talk to me.”
    “He’s a teenager, Brandon,” Blake reminded him. “How open were you at that age?”
    Brandon only grunted. Yeah, like father like son.
    They rounded a corner and jogged over a wooden bridge, the dog’s nails clicking over the wood that arched above a shallow