He leans his head back, just enough to get a good look at me, and, boy, does helook. It’s like he’s staring at me for the first time, taking every blemish and inch of my face in, committing it to memory before moving on to the next. He sees me so deeply, not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually.
“You know what?” he murmurs, his hands tugging at my waist and pulling me against him.
A giggle slips free as I stare up at him, and I imagine what he’s going to say. The three words I’ve been floating around for a while? But if there’s any advice I should take, it’s the one I give. While I’m trying to figure out what he’ll say next, he mutters something that takes me by complete surprise as his lips lower to mine.
“You’re a damn good coach, Rooney.” He kisses me fiercely and deeply, self-assurance rolling off of him in waves.
I melt against him, giving him as much of me as he wants.
But someone clears their throat behind us, and I fly backward, spinning to find a very stern looking Coach Carrington.
Whoopsies … I feel like I just got caught by a parent. I stifle my laugh at the thought.
“What’s going on hereexactly?” he growls.
“Coach Carring?—”
Matt cuts me off, stepping beside me, his shoulders strong and proud.
“I’ll explain,” he says firmly, and seeing him like this gives me complete faith in everything that follows. “Look, I fucked up the first period, okay? I own that. I made mistakes because I was in my own head. But if you put me back out there”—he walks over to Carrington and looks him straight in the eyes—“I will win us the Cup.”
Something passes between them, something I don’t understand, but then Carrington does something that surprises me.
He nods sharply and steps to the side. “Okay. The net’s yours, Mac.”
“Thank you.” Matt lets out a quick breath before turning back to me, where I’m reaching down and grabbing his helmet. “And thank you, Coach.”
Matt picks up his gloves and blocker, catching the helmet I toss at him.
“Anytime.”
He strides past Carrington and turns back down the tunnel, leaving me alone with Coach Grump, but honestly, I’m thankful for it. Let’s address the elephant in the room and get it over with.
Sighing, he scratches his forehead, then meets my eye. “What were you guys doing in here?”
I mean … I think he can figure that one out on his own, but if he wants me to spell it out for him …
He doesn’t even blink as I say, “I wascoachinghim … sir.”
He wets his bottom lip in thought. “Look, I don’t know what you said to him or how you got him out of that, but …” He pauses, and I can tell the words are almost painful for him. “Thank you. Good job.”
Nodding sharply, I suddenly feel like I could run a marathon. “Thank you.”
He relaxes his shoulders, and the slightest smirk flutters across his face. “Do you coach all of your goalies like that? Because we may have to have a more serious conversation if that’s the case.”
This time, I can’t contain the laughter, but I quickly calm it down. “No, sir, just that one.”
I swear he sighs more than a single person should.
“All right.” He glances to the side, and I can see the wheels burning behind his eyes. “We’ll need to inform HR right away about your relationship, especially since you’re a faculty member and he’s a player. But we can worry about that after tonight.”
Oh … wow, I did expect him to be a bit more upset, especially given his grumpy demeanor most of the time. But he’s actually rather accepting.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters, mostly to himself, “I swear to God, this is the last time I can have this conversation with HR.”
“Thank you,” Unexpected emotion peppers my eyes, and he meets my stare, his hand falling to his side. “Thank you for letting me join this team and be a part ofthis.”
A genuine grin ghosts across his lips. “You’ve proven your worth, Coach Rooney. We’re lucky to have you.” He pushes the door open further. “Now please get back to your post.”
