Page 12 of The Coach

She’s about six inches shorter than me, but somehow our height difference works.

“I really enjoyed our night together.” I look back at her, thinking about what’s bothering her. “Why is it a big deal to date your brother’s coach?”

“Because,” she sighs. “He’s my baby brother, and he cares who I go out with. He hasn’t exactly been the most thrilled with my prior boyfriends. I don’t want to put a wedge between him and his coach. Plus, I’m a master’s student here. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

My eyes fall shut as I realize she’s right. It could throw off Lincoln’s concentration, and her being a student…not ideal. “You sure there’s nothing else?”

“Well, no.”

“Not the age difference?”

She frowns and looks at me, her eyes taking in my face. I’m sure she’s admiring—or judging—the wrinkles around my eyes and the prominent laugh lines that crease my cheeks when I smile.

“Age doesn’t bother me.” She says, “I’m twenty-four. I’m an adult who makes my own choices.”

“Twenty-four, huh?”

“Yeah.” She pulls on my shoulders until I’m closer. “Why? Does that bother you?”

“I’m thirty-nine.”

“Hm,” she hums with a teasing smile on her face.

“Hm good, or hm bad?”

Tilting her head, she winks at me. “I never knew I would find my brother’s old hockey coach so hot. Coach Stanford was not nearly as fine as you.”

Growling, I back her against the door with a loud thump, not caring in the least that we’re probably alerting people to our presence. I nip at her lips. “I’m the only coach you need.”

She wiggles against me and says, “Care to teach me something, Coach?”

For a moment, it seems, we put behind us the reasons we shouldn’t do this, and we smile at each other, enjoying the ease and the flirting.

I reposition my hand behind her neck and reply, “I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve.”

five

MICK

Cassie was pissed when I came back out into the player's tunnel.Not pissed at me, but judging by the look on my brother’s face, he was the instigator of her anger.

“Where did you go?” Cassie snaps as soon as I’m back within earshot.

“Had to go to the bathroom.” I raise my brows, a blush rising in my cheeks. “It was an emergency, sorry.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to know,” my brother says, pulling me into a hug. I remember myself and hug him back.

“That game was amazing!”

He grins when he sets me down. “Thanks.” He glares at Cassie. “Glad someone thinks so.”

She smiles sarcastically at my baby brother. “I’m sorry that I’m not interested in grown men pretending to play a sport when really it’s an excuse to beat the shit out of each other and not get in trouble.”

His glare could melt her face if he tried hard enough. “That is not what it is. It takes practice and discipline. It’s as real as any sport there is. I’d like to see any other athlete compete on skates and make it look effortless.”

I would like to say this is the first time my friend and brother have had this argument, but over the last year, it’s become more of a routine than anything.

Normally, I just allow them to talk it out. It usually ends when he insults her black hoodies.

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