Page 71 of The Coach

The screaming is unreal as Mick and Robin sing through the song, swapping lines like a duet. The band plays an uncanny version of Shania Twain’s song, and women and men all over the bar are losing their minds.

But I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that the girls are actually good.

It’s Mick I can’t take my eyes off of. She whips her hair this way and that, singing loudly but clearly into the mic without a hint of fear.

She finds me in the crowd and points her finger at me, turning her hand over, and beckoning me forward as the song nears its end.

When she sings the last line, I pull her to me, dip her down and kiss her in front of everyone. I ignore every screaming catcall, every jest, every excited body around us, and focus on this woman who has changed my life for the better.

When we come back up, she smiles shyly at me, “Did you like it?”

“We need to go home,” is my only reply, and she laughs as I drag her out of the bar behind me.

twenty-nine

MICK

The locker room is blessedly empty when I enter. I’ve got my ball cap pulled down low, my jacket way oversized for the weather, and my hair tucked up, hopefully helping to cover my identity.

After four days of not seeing Tanner, I was itching to just put eyes on him for a few minutes. Between the two of us, free time is sparse, so sneaking time in is all we can do.

We spent the night after karaoke doing exactly what he envisioned, though we ordered breakfast in so we could both participate in the breakfast-in-bed bit. Then he had games, one of which I attended, that kept him busier than usual, and I had some serious studying to do.

School was nearing a close. Even though it is only approaching March, I could taste graduation, and I was ready to be done with school and focus on growing my career.

I was giddy with anticipation of what is to come for me.

Spotting Tanner’s office door, I make my way over to it quickly, tapping on it, and hoping that he is alone in there. The last thing I need is to make some excuse in front of the other coaches.

“Come in,” his muffled voice sounds through the door, and I turn the handle, peeking in the open door. When I spot no one in the room, I slide in and turn to shut the door behind me.

“I like your outfit,” a tired yet relieved voice says from behind me, and I turn, smiling at Tanner, who’s got a grin already plastered on his face. He’s leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head and one leg crossed over the other.

Playfully, I whip open the jacket, revealing my best jeans and a tight shirt, and toss the jacket to the side. “Oh, this old thing?”

He chuckles and stands, coming around his desk and meeting me in the middle. His hands go to cup my jaw, my hands resting on his hips, and our lips meet in a frenzy of want and need. He nips at my bottom lip and turns my head to get better access to my neck. I grant it to him, my baseball cap falling off of my head in the heat of it all.

“I missed you,” he says in between kisses.

“I missed you, too,” I reply, hating that that’s our standard greeting right now, saying we miss each other every time we meet again because we’re both so busy, both hiding what we have, that all we have time for is to miss one another.

I was growing tired of it.

His hands move down away from my jaw and wind around my waist, pulling me in until I was close enough to feel every inch of him touching every inch of me.

I moan into his mouth, craving him, craving that feeling he ignites between us.

I’m so caught up in the activity, in the passion of it all, that I don’t hear the door to his office open.

“Unbelievable.” I jerk away from Tanner in surprise. Tanner turns, keeping me hidden, but it’s too late. They saw us.

“Coach,” a voice I know all too well says, making me step away, gazing up at Tanner with fear in my eyes. I know he can see it because he nods, something comforting in his face that grounds my fear for a moment.

I step around Tanner, and Tanner turns to face whoever is waiting for us.

And there, standing in the doorway, is Lincoln.

His face is a mask of rage and hurt, his eyes bouncing between the two of us, and his fists clenching, one holding a phone that I’m not sure is going to survive this encounter.

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