Page 57 of The Coach

“You okay, man?” Lee asks, tapping me on the back.

“Yeah, fine,” I reply, reaching for my pocket where my phone is and holding it up, discreetly tapping it.

Mick looks away, smiling at her brother and leaning close, letting him talk to her. He looks upset.

Is she telling him about us? Is that why he’s mad? Or is there more to this?

She doesn’t look back at me for five whole minutes. I know because I counted.

“Tanner, hey, Tanner.” I glance back and see there’s a patient server standing over the other end of our table.

“We already ordered,” Lee tells me, prompting me to do the same.

I still haven’t looked at the menu.

“Bring me your best burger, medium rare,” I tell him, handing over the menu.

“So, do you get out a lot?” This question is directed at me, and I try to be polite, turning my attention back to the woman across from me.

It’s not that she’s not pretty, and she’s probably a nice woman, but she’s not who I want to be sitting across from me.

“No, not really,” I reply honestly, taking a sip of water and wishing it was whiskey.

“Too bad. Being a hockey coach must keep you busy.” She reaches for her own glass.

“It does,” I reply, then turn my head sharply to Lee when he hits my knee under the table. I clear my throat and turn back to Sarah, or Sheila. I can’t remember. “How did you get into hair… styling?”

She smiles at me and launches into a long sordid tale of her background. I try to pay attention, inserting replies here and there.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mick rise and make her way to a hallway that I assume is the bathroom.

Hurriedly, I get up from the table, making an excuse, and walk along the wall opposite where Lincoln sits so he can’t see me. When I get to the hall, I find it empty, so I lean against the wall facing the ladies’ room and wait, my hands tucked into my pockets.

The door opens, and Mick steps out, her steps faltering when she sees me waiting. Her arms fold over her chest, and she looks at me.

“Mick.” I take a step to her, my hands tingling with the need to grab her, push her against the wall, and shove my tongue down her throat, claiming and taking her for my own. It’s been way too fucking long since we’ve been together.

“Tanner,” she replies stiffly, licking her lips and glancing away.

“Did you look at your phone?”

She frowns and pulls it out of her pocket, glancing at it and showing the screen to me. There’s nothing there.

“I texted you. Told you why I’m here with Lee and those women.”

“I didn’t get a text, and it doesn’t matter. I…” She sighs, shaking her head. When it bows, and she uses her hair to block her face, I know she’s upset.

“Mick.” I walk into her space, lifting her chin, and she uses her fist to punch me in the chest.

“This is all your fault! I never used to cry, and you went and made me give a shit. Now I cry.”

“I don’t want to make you cry,” I reply softly, a smile tugging at my lips.

“Well, you did.” I take her shoulders in my hands and make her look up at me.

“Micayla.” I pull her with me, down the hallway where it’s darker and gently push her against the wall. “Micayla, you’re mine,” our breath intertwines as she looks up at me and I wish I could drag her out of here right now. To just be with her, to hold her, to tell her everything. So, I take this opportunity to do at least one of those things. “And I’m yours. Tonight was a favor that I had no idea was even happening until I was here. I wanted to spend the night worshipping every inch of your body, not out to dinner with Lee and two women who, honestly, I’ve already forgotten their names.”

She smiles subtly at that admission.

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