Page 11 of Dear Coach's Daughter
“Then it’s a good thing this isn’t a Moreno kitchen until you pay rent,” she quips.
“It will be soon enough. I have a promising interview next week with a top design company in the city.”
"That's great," she says, pulling me into a hug.
“The game is starting!” Mack calls from the living room.
"I'll be right there," I tell Taylor. "I want this done, and the kitchen cleaned up before I sit down to watch."
“It’s going to be fine,” she says, sensing my anxiety about how this game will turn out. “He wants to eat yourlasagna.”
I shake my head and laugh at her double meaning of the word.
The game ends up being a real nail-biter. Both teams fight hard for the win, but even the sports commentators note how Hunter is playing at a level they never expected from him.
“He must want this win badly,” one of the guys on the screen comments.
Taylor looks at me and pretends she's got a dick in her hand, and she's blowing it. I laugh out loud, and Mack looks over and catches her.
"After the game, babe. There are only three minutes left," he says.
Taylor scoffs. “You wish. That wasn’t for you.”
“But—”
“I have a headache.”
Mack may be a two-hundred-pound heavyweight bodybuilder, but at that moment, he looks like a little boy that was just told that he isn't going to get dessert.
I put my hand over my mouth to stifle the giggle in my throat. We are down by two points. We need this field goal to win. I close my eyes. I can't watch this.
