Page 50 of The Coach

And now that Christmas was over, I was finally going to be able to see Tanner tonight.

I had it all planned.

According to my brother, they had a team meeting tonight at five that would last about an hour, which gave me plenty of time.

I had told Tanner that I wouldn’t be able to see him tonight, that my family was still celebrating and so I had to participate as well. He was upset about it, wondering how we could possibly have more to do.

I think part of it was jealousy, and I didn’t blame him. Every single one of the activities my family has done in the last ten days would have been better if Tanner could have been a part of it all.

But I think my plan is going to make up for it.

I set the scene with candles in the bedroom, keeping it mysterious with just a note—a paper one on the counter this time so he actually sees it—leading him to the bedroom.

Then, he would walk in and see candles lit around the room, me draped over his bed in some black lace lingerie and handcuffed to the headboard.

Don’t ask where I got the handcuffs.

It was now after six, and I’m lying here waiting, knowing that it only takes about ten minutes to get home from the stadium. My arms are propped up, each handcuffed to the top corners of the headboard. Other than a little redness on my right wrist from where I had to use my head and teeth to latch it onto my arm, I feel okay.

I’m sure it was not a sexy sight to see me trying to get myself handcuffed to the bed.

Keys jiggle in the lock, and I take a steadying breath, hitching one leg over the other and posing as best as I can.

Why I didn’t just lay across the bed seductively, I’ll never know.

I hear the door open and shut, feet shuffling across the living room floor.

Then, to my horror, I hear a woman’s voice. A woman and a man, who sounds suspiciously like Tanner.

My eyes heat, and I start to think the absolute worst thoughts. Is this why he was fine with me being busy tonight? Was he not as upset as I thought? Is he seeing another woman besides me?

Oh shit.

Oh shit, shit, shit.

I yank on the cuffs, absolutely pissed beyond belief which is why tears start to form in my eyes. He was a liar, he was a fake, he wasn’t really—

The door swings open, and I’m face-to-face with a woman who could easily be my mom’s age, maybe older.

“Oh dear!” She reaches up, slapping a hand over her eyes. “I didn’t see anything!”

“Oh my god!” I say, yanking harder on the cuffs, my hair flying around my face at my rapid movements.

“What is it?” Tanner asks, his voice moving closer to the door, and I blanch when I see the male in the doorway, who is not Tanner but an older, almost identical version of him.

“Oh, shit,” he says, turning away immediately.

He disappears from sight.

“Oh my god,” I repeat, my wrists on the brink of breaking from how hard I’m pulling on them. But I swear, if I can’t get myself covered in the next few seconds, I will actually die from mortification.

“Oh honey, it’s okay.” Presumably, Tanner’s mom says to me. Inching closer like I’m a lion, ready to pounce. “You must be Mick! Tanner has told us so much about you, hon.”

Kill. Me. Now.

“You know about me?” I ask in a high pitch I’ve never used before, still fucking handcuffed to her son’s bed, but the question pops out as surprise hits me.

“Oh, my son wouldn’t shut up about you.” She uncovers her eyes, and she waves her hands at me. “And I see why!” Her hand slaps her forehead. “Not because of,” she waves her hand over my body, my practically naked one that now my boyfriend’s parents have seen before her eyes move to me again. “Of this, but my you are beautiful! Smart, too, if my son is correct.”

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