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“It’s okay, Dad. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
His eyes grow so wide they could pop out of his head. But he keeps his cool in front us and rebounds quickly. “We’ll talk about this later, Bex.” His focus shifts from his daughter and back to me. “We have plenty of pizza left. Join us.”
Bex rolls her eyes at him. “Umm… no, we don’t.” Then she peeks up at me. “Get your own.”
Coach’s face turns bright red. “Bex, don’t be rude.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She holds her palm to her chest and glares at me. “Did I hurt your feelings, Mr. MVP?”
My friends laugh at her. Coach isn’t happy, though.
I clamp my hand down on Coach Bryant’s shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s all right we were just grabbing a slice for the road.”
Coach sighs, deflated. “I’m sorry about my daughter’s behavior. Bex is not normally like this.”
She flashes an evil grin in my direction.
My friends are right about Coach Bryant treating me like a son. He has shown me special treatment since freshman year, when he was still the assistant coach. He pulled me aside at the first tryout and told me I had something special and not to waste it on women or booze. Ever since, he’s been more than a coach to me.
“You can sit.” Bex smacks the open space next to her with her palm. “But you have to get your own pizza. I don’t like to share my food.”
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.
She’s beautiful without even trying, still in the same shorts and fitted jersey from earlier. Her blonde hair falls in messy waves over her breasts. Her face is free of makeup, her lips chapped and with a small cut on the right side. It looks like she was punched.
Bex doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks of her. With just the right amount of sass, she’s the kind of woman I need in my life. It’s weird to think it, but she reminds me of my mom, who’s as strong as they come.
“We’ll be back,” Tucker says to Coach, tugging at my shoulder to pull me away from the table. “Dude, you were staring at her a little too hard,” he adds, once we have some distance.
We stop in front of the counter, and Tucker orders a slice for each of us.
I pull out my wallet, assuming these cheap fucks aren’t paying. Not like they can’t afford it. They have hefty trust funds, too.
I hand a twenty to the man behind the register, my body angled toward Tucker. “I wasn’t staring. Would you fuck off about it?”
“She’s trouble,” Jamie says with a smirk. “I can see it already.”
“I’m not even going there,” I spit back. “Coach’s daughter is out of the question. Even you assholes know that.”
Drake laughs. “Yeah, but you’re not one to turn down a challenge.”
He’s right. I learned that from my dad. If Bex were anyone other than my favorite Coach’s daughter, I would have been all over her. I love her attitude. Other than my parents and coaches, no one ever challenges me, especially not women.
We grab our food from the counter and head back to Coach’s table. Bex glances up at me, this time without a mouth full of food. Wide blue eyes stare back at me, a defiant smirk on her lips.
Fuck, I’m in trouble.
Jamie is spot-on about this girl.
“I’m not getting squished by a bunch of sweaty hockey players,” Bex says, her focus on me. “One of you can sit next to me. That’s it.”
Is this an invitation?
Her mouth says one thing, but her eyes say another. If anyone is sitting next to Bex, it’s me.
“Honey,” Coach growls, and then lowers his voice. “You’re being rude. Apologize to my players, please, and act like a lady.”
“Act like a lady,” she mumbles, making a funny face at him.
And it’s adorable. What the fuck? When do I ever call girls adorable? Hot-as-fuck, banging, smoking, maybe even cute are all words I use to describe women, but never adorable. Man, this girl already has my balls in her pocket, and we haven’t even kissed.
“There’s plenty of room on your side is all I’m saying,” she corrects. “No need for them to make a Bex sandwich. Wouldn’t want to accidentally break one of your rules.”
His rules?
Now, this I’m dying to know more about. Coach has rules when it comes to his daughter or his team? I make a mental note to find out whatever I can about Bex. I’m sure she has social media accounts. She also has friends and teammates who will give me dirt.
Realization sparks in Coach’s eyes. “Tucker and Drake, sit over here with me. Jamie and Trent, pull up two chairs from that table over there.” He points at a table with unused wooden stools.
