“And now it’s my turn to ask you a question.”
I raised my eyes to hers.
“What are you doing here?”
The same thing she’d asked me at the restaurant.
I pulled a whistle out of my pocket and twirled it in a wide circle beside my body. I caught it midair, brought it to my lips, and blew. Turning to the group of kids staring wide-eyed at me, I shouted, “Who’s ready to play some football?”
5
Nicole
Of all the youth football teams in all the towns in all the world, he had to coach Sierra’s.
I looked up at the sky, a fluffy white cloud lazily floating along the blue expanse over my head, and mouthed,Really?Evidence what it was, I believed God had a sense of humor. But Ididn’tthink He got His kicks at the expense of His children. Even so, I would’ve sworn I heard a deep, throaty chuckle that danced on the breeze my direction, swirling around me and leaving me almost dizzy. The sound was pleasant. Rich, like a salted-caramel, double-chocolate lava cake, the gooey center oozing around me until the last strands were carried away.
I blinked up at the sky. Tilted my ear. Another laugh, but the divine cadence hadn’t come from the heavens. The earthly origination pulled my face back toward the field. Drew lunged for one of the players on his team, and the boy jumped to the side and ran away.
Drew chuckled. “I almost had you that time, Weston.”
Internally, I sent anotherReally?skyward, collected all the warm gooeyness Drew’s laugh had elicited, and shoved it to a corner to solidify into a hard chocolate rock.
Maybe our being thrown together so often wasn’t so much a cosmic joke as it was a test, my patience and tolerance being thrust center stage with a spotlight beaming down, exposing every angle. I sighed, knowing I’d failed thus far. But there was just something about the man that got under my skin.
“You didn’t tell me Dr. Swoony number two was Sierra’s coach.”
I jumped and spun, my hand going to cover my pounding heart. Amanda’s pert lips sported a mischievous smile as she swayed back on her heels, her hands inserted into her back pockets.
I pushed on her shoulder, knocking her off balance so she had to take a step back. “Don’t sneak up on a person like that.”
Her grin widened. “I didn’t sneak. You were staring off into space. Or at your daughter’s coach, rather.” She waggled her eyebrows.
I bit the inside of my bottom lip. A denial would only be fuel to her teasing.
“None of my coaches were that hot when I played sports. Do you think Sierra’s going to develop a little crush on him?”
My eyes bugged out. “She’s eight.”
Amanda’s lips rolled between her teeth, her attempt at hiding her amusement at my expense failing miserably. “How old were you when you had your first crush?”
Warning sirens blared against my ear drums, my mind starting a lockdown sequence against the memory. Too late. I saw him in my mind’s eye. Blake Turner. Hair parted down the middle with waves on both sides, the ends looping to rest near the corners of his eyes Jonathan Taylor Thomas-style. I was seven and he was two years older and my brother’s best friend. Nothing had ever happened between us, even though I fancied myself in love. Might have even written our names together and drawn a heart around them.
“Exactly,” Amanda crowed.
My neck heated. “But that’s different. Maybe Sierra will like one of her teammates, but Drew is a grown man.”
The skin around Amanda’s eyes pinched, but whatever had been there quickly vanished. She shimmied her shoulders in her stilted way. “Trust me. I’ve noticed.”
I pushed her shoulder again. “You’re really bad sometimes, you know that?”
The step back she took seemed to jar her, but she smiled even bigger. “And you’re so busy being good all the time that you miss out on a lot of fun. Maybe you should try it my way for once.”
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
A flat ladder-looking thing had been laid out on the ground. Kids lined up behind it and took turns doing some kind of footwork through the rungs. In the middle, to the left. In the middle, to the right. If I tried to mimic their movements, I’d trip all over my feet and end up flat on my face.
Sierra stepped up, her knees rising and falling quickly as she worked her way to the end, her ponytail swaying back and forth. She seemed focused and determined, and I told myself to relax. The possibility of injury—especially head injuries—caused me all kinds of anxiety, but I couldn’t let my worries leach out and infect my daughter.
