Page 3 of The Offside Rule
CHAPTER 1
Hunter
The 4thof July
The drive out to Cole’s ranch took just over an hour, which meant Isla had asked me if we were almost there approximately thirty-seven times.
“Dad?”
I glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, kiddo?”
“Are we almost there?” she whined.
I fought a smile and kept one hand loose on the wheel. “Almost.”
“You said that ten minutes ago.” I looked in the rearview mirror and saw her lower lip pushed out. She was pouting, which made her even more adorable.
“And now we’re ten minutes closer,” I said, grinning.
She huffed, dramatic as hell, and pressed her forehead to the window of my SUV. Her dark hair was pulled into two braids Holland had taught me how to do after watching me butcher a ponytail one too many times. She wore her swimsuit under her shorts and T-shirt, flip-flops already dangling off her feet, with atowel and goggles clutched beside her like she was preparing for the Olympics.
“Do you think Mila’s already swimming?”
Why was it that kids had no patience? Mila was Cole’s youngest daughter. She and Isla were only a couple of months apart.
“Probably.” I wasn’t trying to goad her. It was the truth. It was hotter than Satan’s oven outside. There was no way the kids weren’t already in the pool.
I thought back to when Isla was little and I used to make the drive out to Cole and Holland’s ranch outside the city. The years were flying by. How was she already ten years old? I didn’t know how the hell that had happened. One minute she was a tiny thing on my chest, smelling like baby shampoo and milk, and the next she was in the backseat ready to run off with her friends.
The ranch came into view at the end of a long private drive, sprawling and sun-soaked, with white fencing and a main house that looked like it belonged on the cover of some rich-person magazine. Cars were already parked along the curved driveway when we pulled in. Music drifted from somewhere out back, mixed with laughter, kids yelling, and the faint smell of barbecue smoke.
Isla sat up straighter. “We’re here?”
Before I had even shifted into park, she was unbuckling. I laughed, killed the engine, and climbed out. The July heat hit me immediately, thick and bright, the kind that made the air shimmer over the gravel. Isla was out of the car two seconds later, dragging her swim bag behind her.
“Mila!” she shrieked.
A matching shriek came from the direction of the house, and then Mila came tearing across the grass in a red swimsuit and denim shorts, her dark curls bouncing. Isla dropped her bag and ran for her. The two girls collided in a hug like they hadn’t seeneach other in years instead of maybe two weeks. Jaden followed at a slower pace, lanky and unimpressed, a basketball tucked under one arm.
“There are no boys here,” he announced before I could even say hello.
I lifted my brows. “Nice to see you too, Jaden.”
He nodded like he was granting me a diplomatic greeting. “Hi, Hunter. There are still no boys.”
Mila stuck her tongue out at him. “You can swim with us.”
“I’m not swimming with little kids,” he said with a sour face.
“You’re twelve,” Isla said.
“I’m almost thirteen.”
“That’s still twelve,” my daughter said with familiar sass.
I covered my mouth with my fist to hide a laugh.
Jaden pointed toward the pool. “Fine. But if I swim with you, I’m picking the game.”
