“Lincoln…” A muscle in Elliott’s cheek twitched, and she couldn’t help but laugh again. Seeing him in his work role tickled her.
Placing a hand on his chest, she gave a little pat. “It’s okay, Eli.” With a shake of her head she gave the boys a smile. “Elliott and I have known each other since we were little. We fell out of touch for a while but we recently reconnected.”
Two blank faces stared at her with what looked like a mixture of awe, confusion, and excitement. “You knew him as a kid?” Linc rubbed his chin.
“You mean…he wasn’t born a fully grown adult?” Russ shook his head. “Who knew?”
Rubbing his hands together, Linc turned his head from Eli to Clare and back again. “Does this mean she has dirt on you, Coach? Do we get childhood stories?”
“I like you Linc, I really do. But I’m about three seconds away from giving Theo your C.”
Lincoln’s jaw hung open and Russ grunted. “Coach. You wouldn’t. You couldn’t!”
“I will if you don’t get the hell out of my space.”
From his tone he might have been half joking. Maybe. She couldn’t tell. The boys smiled and nodded at her before turning away.
“Oh, wait. Linc?”
“Yeah, Coach?”
Eli leveled him with a glare and pointed his finger. “Speaking of Theo. Keep an eye on him, please. He’s here with Clare’s daughter Catriona, and I don’t want him doing anything stupid.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“I mean, she can handle herself, but… It’s Theo.”
Linc and Russ nodded again like truer words had never been spoken and left them alone. Pippa flitted by with glasses of champagne in hand, pausing to give one to Elliott and Clare before gliding away again. Clare was convinced the woman’s feet weren’t even on the ground.
“What’s Theo’s story?” Twinkling lights lit up the room, and she wondered if she could liberate the disco ball for her bedroom before the night was out.
Elliott stiffened beside her, his bicep tensing against hers before he shrugged. “I have no idea. Big chip on his shoulder, lots to prove, cocky as hell.” He took a long swig of his champagne. “Kid has more talent in his pinkie than I do in my whole body. He’s going to make it big, I just need to make sure one of his teammates doesn’t kill him before that happens.”
Prom passed in a blur of laughter and dancing. Elliott had treated her like a queen, pulling her chair out, opening doors, refilling her drink, and making sure that his players didn’t overwhelm her with questions. It had been worth the butt hurt of asking the sperm donor to take Mason for a weekend that wasn’t his.
She’d collected her sandals and clutch in one hand, and looped the other through Elliott’s outstretched arm with a yawn. The kids were still dancing, someone—her suspicion was Pippa—had ordered a stack of pizzas, and Lincoln had given her his word that he’d make sure Catriona got home safely.
Even though she was a grown woman, Clare couldn’t help but worry about her, damn near every day since she’d been born. Cat had shooed her away with a grin. She was fine, Mom, don’t worry, Mom, go havefun, Mom.
Fun. Clare gulped. She hadn’t hadthattype of fun in a long time. And while she’d shaved her legs and made sure her downstairs…area…was at least tidy and not overrun, with each step they took toward the car, her stomach fluttered.
“Hungry?”
She heaved a breath as she lowered herself into the car. “Famished. That pizza smelled so damn good. We should have taken a box with us. Or at least a slice.”
Eli leaned on the car door. The top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were open and his bowtie hung undone around his neck. He had his suit jacket draped over one arm and his shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms. That glimpse of lean, muscular arms made her crazy.
“I was too busy trying to run interference and stop you from stealing Pippa’s disco ball to be of sound enough mind to steal pizza from my boys. They’d probably have cut your arm off if you’d tried.”
“I don’t believe it for a minute.” She laughed as he closed the door, tossed his jacket in the back seat and circled the car to get into the driver’s side. “They are all very sweet kids.”
“They are good kids. But hockey players aren’t really sweet.” He eased the car out of the parking lot and into the street. “And we don’t tell them they’re good kids too often, okay? As much as I’d love to be their friend, I can’t. I’m their Coach. I gotta be the bad guy, the hard ass, the one who pushes them to be the best they can be.” He flicked on the turn signal and slowed to a stop at a red light.
“You’re basically a parent to almost thirty teenage boys.”
He nodded. “I mean, some are in their twenties too, but yeah. That about covers it.”
They rode in charged silence until they got to KFC. A guy stood outside the door, holding a tray of chicken. Her growling stomach had her reaching for a piece and taking a huge bite out of the chicken strip before the man reacted.
