“And you might not know this, but she’s sent out emails past nine p.m. every day this week.”
I was fully aware of that. She CCs me on every email she sends on my behalf, even if it’s just a reply to say thank you to somebody. So yeah, I’ve gotten notifications past midnight and took comfort in the fact that she was thinking of me, too.
“She sets her own hours. If she wants to work that late, that’s none of my business.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Yeah, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Brooker of all people. Maybe Christenson or Carter, but certainly not Brooker.
“Just focus on teaching the kids how to pass and score, all right?” I said, shoving him.
“Sure, so long as you don’t give the other team easy goals because you're ogling Kodi.”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“Oh, really? So what’s your plan then? Are you gonna avoid looking at her all day?”
“Maybe.”
“What’re you guys doing?” Kodi shouted, stomping back over to us and grabbing my arm. Her hand on my bare bicep made every cell in my body jolt to attention. “You should be on the field before the kids to set a good example.”
She dragged me towards the field, completely unaware of how her touch made me feel.
“Dude, you’re so fucking screwed,” Brooker whispered.
“Do you guys have another bet going?” Kodi asked, turning to narrow her eyes at Brooker.
“I’m innocent,” he said, holding up his hands.
“I don’t believe that for one second,” she said, pointing at him. “Leave Kean alone today. He becomes a bigger asshole when you pick on him.”
“Language,” I muttered on Christenson’s behalf.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Kean pouts when you bully him. So play nice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brooker said with a mock salute. “I’ll go check in with the coach. Y’all catch up.”
“Brooker,” I shouted after him, but the asshole full out sprinted away.
“So for this game, we’ve got permission for pictures from all the kids on your team, but I’m going to try and get shots specifically of you and the back of the kids for your profile.” Kodi kept her eyes down at her phone, which had a list pulled up titled ‘Tell Kean.’ “So when you see me with my phone out on the sidelines, try to keep your resting bi— try to smile a little.”
Her voice was short — short and jagged, like she was poking me with a piece of driftwood.
“Are you okay?” I asked, even though it was probably the worst thing to say seeing asIwas the cause of all of her problems. Her eyes snapped up to mine with laser-like heat that I knee-jerk said, “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m just a little tired, but it’ll be worth it if we sell as many tickets as I think we will.”
“I won’t ask you to do as much next week.”
“Yeah, right,” she huffed. “Next weekend is an away game, so I doubt you’ll needlessdone. But speaking of that, you need todecide if you want me to come along or not. I can order almost anything you need remotely, but —”
“I’d like you to come,” I said before I could think better of it. She looked back at me with a furrowed brow and I backpedaled. “If you want to.”
She took a deep breath before sighing. “Right. I’ll get all of that settled tonight.”
“You really don’t have —”
“It’s fine. I’ve actually always wanted to go to Nashville, just never had a good reason to. I just need to rethink some plans for next week and see if a friend can watch my cat.”
