Page 29 of Full Coverage (Boys of Fall)

She didn’t say anything, but she stacked the papers together and leaned to put them on the coffee table next to her now-cold coffee.

Then she took a deep breath and crawled over the cushions to Nolan. She climbed into his lap, straddling him, took his face in her hands and kissed him.

She tasted like coffee and chocolate, which was right up there with tequila, and Nolan didn’t hesitate for a second before opening his mouth and stroking her tongue with his, wanting every bit of her flavor. His hands cupped her hips, his fingers spreading over the perfect curves of her ass.

They kissed for several long, delicious minutes before Randi pulled back.

Nolan blinked up at her, almost forgetting what had prompted the sensual assault. “What was that?”

“That chapter isn’t about the game,” she said.

“It is. I recounted it quarter by quarter.”

She shook her head. “But it’s not about the game. It’s about the people. You captured…everything about it. The buzz, the elation, the worry, the way we felt tied together, the hope and the…everything,” she finished. “Is that what the whole book is like?”

It was. It was a tribute to a man who had coached in Quinn for over thirty years. Who had taught hundreds of boys to play football. But it was about how much more Nicholas Carr was than that. It was about how, through football, he’d taught those boys to be men. And it had extended off the field and into the whole town. He’d taught parents to try harder, inspired teachers to challenge their students and themselves, the rest of the student body how to be part of something bigger than they were and how to stay true even when things weren’t going as expected.

“It’s about Coach,” Nolan told her. “You know he’s more than the game.”

Her eyes got a little watery at that. She nodded. “He is. But wow, Nolan, that’s—beautiful.” She gave him a soft smile and stroked her hand along his jaw. “No one else could have written that and done it justice.”

“It’s just one chapter,” he said, suddenly feeling a little choked up himself. Randi appreciated it. His words had touched her. That was almost as good as physically touching her. Almost. He ran his palms over the curves under his hands.

“Yeah, one chapter that you said you needed football help on,” she said, her tone growing accusatory. “You didn’t need help with any of that.”

“I did,” he told her honestly. “Didn’t you read the part about the head cheerleader’s heart pounding and her fingers tingling during the drive halfway through the fourth quarter?”

She nodded. “Yeah. That was—it’s like you were in my head.”

“You let me in there today.”

“We talked football. And about the game, but I don’t know how you knew how to describe exactly what itfeltlike.”

“It was in the way you talked about it. The words you used. The look on your face. And you told me your fingers were tingling.”

“You’re amazing at this,” she said. “Are your newspaper articles like that too?”

“Like what?”

“You interview people and tell their stories?”

He nodded. “That’s always what I’ve wanted to do. It’s one thing to report on the things happening, the events, the facts, but it brings people into the story to get the human perspective. If you can make them feel something, you can make themdosomething.”

“Do what?”

“Get involved. Make a difference. Stand up for something. Speak out against something. Help someone.” He could go on and on. Nolan reeled it in. It was hard to explain, but making people feel something, enough to want to do something with those feelings, was his calling. He knew it. And he was proud of it.

“What are your articles about?”

“People,” he said simply.

“Like who?”

“Single moms trying to make it, people who are working four jobs and still not making it, vets returning from the Middle East, people rescuing animals, people starting programs, people fighting for what’s right.”

Randi was looking at him like she’d never met him. But she seemed very comfortable straddling his lap with his erection pressing against her inner thigh and his hands possessively splayed on her butt.

“Why do you do those stories?” she asked.

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