Page 16 of Offside Secrets
We settle into the coaches office adjacent to the mainlocker room. It’s cramped but cozy, filled with playbooks, strategy charts, and a coffee maker that’s seen better days. Considering it’s usually filled with our head coach, Ben, another assistant coach named Cannon, plus Pete, and any other special coaches we have coming in and out, it’s not half bad.
“Coffee?” Elle asks as she pours us each a cup from what I’m pretty sure is her fourth pot of the day.
“The best part,” I continue, accepting the mug gratefully, “was when Davies suggested I might want to ‘lean on my more experienced staff’ for guidance. Like I haven’t been running this team successfully for two years.”
“Let me guess—he meant Ben?”
“Probably. Or maybe he thinks I should defer to anyone on the board who is male…about everything.” I take a sip of coffee and immediately regret it. Elle’s coffee could strip paint. “You know what really gets me? When my car broke down the other night?—”
“Wait, what? When did your car break down?”
“Oh, it was no big deal.” I wave a hand dismissively. “Happened last Thursday night, after that budget meeting. Dead battery in the parking lot. But the point is, Campbell happened to be there and helped me out. Jumped my car, made sure I got home safe. And you know what? He didn’t once make me feel stupid for not knowing about car maintenance.”
“Huh.” Elle leans back in her chair, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “Campbell helped you with your car?”
“Yes, but that’s not?—”
“Campbell Stockton. Your captain. Stayed late to help his boss with car trouble.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Elle. He was leaving the arena at the same time I was, and happened to find me in the car, not getting it to start.”
“Interesting.” She takes a sip of her paint-stripping coffee like it’s fine wine. “Especially since most men would’ve mansplained the entire internal combustion engine while changing your tire.”
“He didn’t change my tire. It was the battery.”
“Even better. Battery issues can be tricky. I’ve changed plenty of tires in my day—hazard of having an older car in college—but battery problems always made me call someone.”
I set down my mug, studying Elle’s face. “Where are you going with this?”
“Nowhere.” Her grin widens. “Just noting that your captain is apparently the kind of guy who helps without making you feel helpless. That’s...nice.”
“It was professional courtesy.”
“Did he text you afterward to make sure you got home okay?” Elle leans forward, elbows on her desk.
Heat creeps up my neck. “Maybe.”
“And did he happen to research battery replacement options for you?”
I stare at her. “How did you?—”
“Because that’s exactly the kind of thing a guy does when he’s interested, Sutton.”
“Or simply being nice,” I counter.
Elle shakes her head. “He was being all helpful and protective, ‘let me solve this for you even though you didn’t ask’ kind of thing.”
I slump in my chair. “He sent me a whole breakdown of where to get the best deal on a BMW battery. With installation options.”
Elle’s laugh fills the small office. “Oh yeah…he’s got it bad.”
“No one has anything bad.”
“Really? Then why are you sitting in my office talkingabout Campbell instead of the league office trying to mansplain your job to you?”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it again. She has a point.
“He’s my captain, Elle.”
