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She mimics the motion. Sort of.
I’ve already backed away from her after helping her adjust her hands, but she’s hopeless when it comes to verbal directions. I knew players like this at various points in my career. Some people just have to be guided through the motion and, of course, Jake’s sister is one of those people.
“Here,” I say, putting my hands on her shoulders and moving her through the swing path. “Do this with your shoulders.” I’m standing behind her with my hands on her shoulders and the smell of her hair filling my nose. It’s that strawberry shampoo again, and it’s quickly becoming my new favorite smell. Her sweater is fuzzy and cold under my fingers, but I can feel the warmth coming up from her skin beneath. It’s practically intoxicating, and I know I should just back off. There’s nothing at stake here. I don’t need to teach her to do this well. I could simply stand by the cabin where it’s safe, give her some decent direction, and let her do what she does.
And yet I’m still holding her shoulders and guiding her through the motion until I feel like she has the path down.
“How was that?” she asks.
“Good. Now spread your feet wider so you’re in an athletic stance.”
She squats and her ass nearly bumps into me. I have to step back suddenly to avoid it. “Alright,” I say. “Now when you swing, your weight should start here.” I motion to her right hip, which brings my eyes to the swell of her ass against the jeans she has on. “It’ll travel here.” I point in front of her. “That weight transfer is a big part of your power.” I’m talking on pure instinct, because it feels like the entirety of my focus is on the places where our bodies are touching and the thin gaps of air between us–on how easy it would be to slide my arms around her and pull her close in the way my body feels like it’s aching for.
“Okay.” She sounds breathless, even though everything we’ve been doing has been at fractions of normal speed.
“Like this?” She rocks back and forward, following the swing path I showed her almost perfectly. The swing looks so good I’m almost suspicious she has done this before.
“Wow, yeah,” I say, smiling. “That’s really good.”
I take a few steps back and it feels like I can finally breathe normally again. “Now lock your eyes on the puck, follow through with your whole body, and aim for the net.”
She takes a deep breath and swings. The puck glides smoothly across the pavement and lands in the center of the net. She pumps both fists in the air, jumping with a triumphant smile and celebrating like she just won the Stanley Cup.
I’m smiling as I give her a respectful little round of applause. I hate to admit it, but the impromptu training session has very quickly washed away the irritation and nerves I’d been letting get to me all morning. My smile’s genuine and it feels good. “That was great,” I say.
She blushes, and I can’t help but find it utterly endearing. “Thanks to my fantastic coach. You know, I think you might have a career after your playing days in coaching. You just may want to stick to male students.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to have way too many fond admirers to handle if you coach girls.” She bites her lip and I can’t tell if it’s because she regrets what she just said or if she’s just waiting to see how I react.
Is she flirting with me?
She walks toward me and holds the stick out. She doesn’t hold it out with straight arms, though. She keeps it close to her body, eyes on mine. “You can have your stick back, Coach.”
I put my hands on it, and for some reason, the moment feels far more sexual and electric than it has any right to. I force my eyes down from hers to the stick and gently take it from her.
“Uh, yeah. Anytime, Andi.”
She smiles suddenly, dispelling the tension in the air as she resumes her usual, endlessly energetic, bouncy stride. She takes a few steps toward the house and turns to face me. “Shouldn’t make promises to me! I hold people to them!”
I wonder in what world “anytime” qualifies as a promise as I watch her head inside. Okay, I mostly watch her ass.
I knew Jake’s sister was dangerous the moment I laid eyes on her. I don’t think I understood just how dangerous she’d be for me until now.
I run my hands through my hair and glance down the driveway, half expecting to see Jake lying prone with a sniper rifle ready to take me out once and for all after that little display. The driveway is empty except for my truck, of course. I shake it off and briefly consider getting in my truck and driving into town. After all, Andi is in there. I might as well be jumping into the dark ocean after seeing a giant fin circling my pathetic little life raft.
But I can’t run from her. She’s made that much clear. Andi Summers will track me down, pursue me, and catch me with a blushing smile that threatens to undo every carefully laid plan I have.
If you can’t run from something, you face it.
So I take a deep breath and head inside the cabin.
13
JESSE
I don’t know why–probably my brief but memorable past experience–but I almost expected to find Andi in some compromising, accidentally sexy position when I opened the front door of the cabin. I thought maybe she’d be bent over–stuck in the washing machine with her ass out–asking if I could help her get out, or in the middle of changing in the living room. Honestly, neither possibility would be completely out of character given what the woman has already put me through.
