Page 18 of The Coach

I let out a slow breath. “I am, too.”

His head cocks. “You seem nervous.”

I start to shake my head before it turns into a nod, and he chuckles lightly.

“Why are you nervous?”

“I just,” I wave my free hand around the restaurant. “I guess I’m not used to fancy dinners. I didn’t know they paid coaches so well,” I end in a tease, trying to not only lighten the tension but to ease the intense pull between us.

“We do okay,” he replies with a smile.

The smile is sweet, and I take a moment to realize that this probably isn’t being paid for with his coaching salary but with the pro hockey money he made. Which makes me feel silly all over again.

“So.” I tap the menu. “What’s good here?”

He inhales and sits up, opening the menu, then lets out his breath while his eyes meet mine. “I have no idea.”

I chuckle, glad he’s not so accustomed to the surroundings that only I feel left out.

The waitress comes over, filling our waters and asking if we want wine. “Um,” I hesitate, knowing I have an early morning class. Tanner seems to be thinking the same thing.

“We’ll pass,” he tells her politely. “This time.”

She smiles politely and leaves us to peruse the menu.

Tanner studies me. “Not a big drinker?”

I blush and keep my eyes trained on the menu, wondering how much it must all cost if they won’t even put the prices on it. “I’m a social drinker,” I say, “And the occasional hockey drinker. But I also have an eight a.m. class tomorrow.”

“Ah.” He nods in understanding, not a hint of teasing on his face. “Well, since I am going to be surrounded by college boys for the next four days, making sure they don’t run around and get themselves killed, it’s best I have my wits about me.”

Relieved that he has an excuse himself, we both chat over menu items. After ordering, our conversation goes smoothly. We talk about his professional career, about what it was like to play at that level with that pressure. He asks about my family, and I explain how I got into my master’s course, what set me on that path.

Talking with Tanner is easy. It’s comfortable.

That’s not something I think I’ve felt before outside of my immediate family, and it makes me curious. Is this what it’s like for those people who swear they found their… I hesitate to even think about the words. It is way too soon.

Our meal arrives, and we dig in, moaning at the expensive taste. It’s a funny thought, but a true one. The flavors of the food explode in my mouth, and I chuckle when Tanner lets out a groan.

“Good?” I ask playfully, slicing a bite of chicken and putting it in my mouth.

His eyes meet mine, and they heat as they hold. “Delectable.”

I feel another rising blush on my cheeks and look down at my plate, my hair swaying forward to cover the red on my face.

A phone ringing interrupts the intense moment, and I glance at Tanner. “Shit,” he says, digging into his pocket and glancing at the screen. “Sorry, just a minute. It’s Lee.”

Assistant coach, then.

“No problem,” I reply as he answers the phone.

“Yeah,” he answers, listening intently to the other end of the line. He glances at me. “Just out to dinner,” he replies to an unknown question and turns his head slightly. “Uh, no one. Just me.”

I hang my head slightly, something foreign twisting in my gut at the realization that he had to just lie to his staff because they can’t know we’re out together.

The chicken in my mouth turns to ash, and I set down my fork, picking up my water glass and taking a swallow.

This was a bad idea. I close my eyes at the thought. I knew it was a bad idea to begin with but seeing the evidence? The way we’ll have to lie?

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