Page 4 of Dear Coach's Daughter
2
HUNTER
“Did you ever get that girl’s number?” Caldwell asks as we get dressed in the locker room.
We just finished up practice. It was grueling, and it was clear that Coach was taking his frustrations with Jace out on us. I don’t blame him. A lot of the guys are ticked off about what happened. At least most of them aren’t taking it out on me like I somehow had something to do with Jace deciding to use enhancement drugs.
“No,” I say, glancing up from tying my shoe. “She left before I could go over and talk to her again.”
I haven’t been able to get Bea out of my mind. I messed up a few plays this afternoon when I thought I saw her sitting in the stands watching the practice. But there is no way that I’m that lucky to find her again so quickly. That being said, I’ve already decided to head back to the bar again tonight and every night until I run into her again.
I haven't clicked so quickly with someone in a very long time. Most of the women I meet seek the thrill of dating a professional football player, and being backup QB doesn’t rank high on their list. Not that they were the type of women I’m looking to be with. I want something real.
I was spoiled as a kid to grow up with parents that thought the other one hung the moon. So nothing short of finding that in my own girl is my goal. I know that it’s probably not possible that lightning will strike twice in my family like that for love, but I can still hope.
“Delaney!” Coach yells from the doorway of his office. “My office. Now.”
Caldwell and I share a questioning glance. He looks as confused as I feel. I know I messed up a few times today, but I'm still finding my feet in my new position. We only have a week before the first game of the season, but I know that I will get there.
I push to my feet and head into Coach's office. He's sitting behind his desk. Footage from last season is playing on the screen.
“I think you know why I called you in here,” he says, gesturing for me to take a seat across from him.
“I know that today was a bit shaky,” I say, sitting down. “But I’m just getting the lay of the land. I will be better tomorrow.”
“What?” He looks at me confused and then shakes his head. “No, I’m talking about the coverage.”
“Coverage?”
One thick eyebrow ticks up. “You haven’t been listening to what’s being said?”
My heart sinks into my stomach.
It’s been barely twenty-four hours since everything went down. And to be honest, in the last twelve hours, Bea has been at the forefront of my mind.
“I wanted to really focus on what is in front of me. So, I haven’t been focusing on any outside influences. Why? Is it bad?”
Coach shakes his head. "No, son. Nothing worse than what is to be expected in a shake-up like this. I'm proud of you for keeping your focus where it needs to be—on the game.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“And don’t worry about today. I know that you will find your stride. I wouldn’t be putting you out on the field if I didn’t think that you could handle the pressure and get the job done effectively.”
“Dad, you said that you’d be—” A familiar voice interrupts.
I turn and see Bea standing in the doorway of the office. Her wide gaze flicks between me and then Coach and back again.
“Brownie, what have I told you about knocking?"
Dad? Brownie?
My brain tries to catch up with this turn of events unfolding in front of me. I thought I saw Bea sitting in the stands watching the practice, but I chalked it up to just wishful thinking.
“I thought you said your name is Bea?” I blurt out.
She makes a face, and her eyes flicker over to Coach like she doesn't want to be having this conversation in front of her father. The realization hits me all at once—she’s the coach’s daughter.
“Wait, you two know each other?” Coach asks.
