Page 22 of Her Coach

"She does."

"And eight hundred dollars surprises you." He turned his glass slowly. "I don't coach because I need the money, Brynn."

I stared at him.

He picked his glass back up. "Finish your novel."

I kept my face even but something shifted in my head. Mom came from money too, old family money that she never talked about and never leaned on any harder than she had to. But even she had fought for every piece of what she built. Every dollar she put into this team had a decision behind it, a sacrifice, a reason. Colton talked about money the way people talked about the weather. Like it was just there. Like it had always been there and always would be and the idea of it meaning something had simply never occurred to him.

I didn't know if that was impressive or lonely.

I swallowed hard. He’d be so good for Mom. So incredible. So lovely. With those large, callused hands of his, and his own money, and the way he licks his lips…

Stop it, Brynn. You’re on a mission.

Though, I did pull my phone out on my break that night and type his name into the search bar. Not because I was interested. Just because I was curious about the man I was supposed to be matchmaking for my mother.

The first result was the scandal. I already knew about that.

The second result was a Forbes sidebar from three years ago. Not a profile. Just a mention in a list. I had to read the line twice before it actually registered.

I put my phone face-down on the bar and went back to work.

A mission I tried to convince myself not to fuck up. “Mom.”

He paused. “What about her?”

I turned back to the cash register, printing out more receipts for patrons that raised their hands just beyond the horizon of Colton’s broad shoulders.

I’d bet my paycheck he’d be able to toss me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

“Mom just… needs help sometimes,” I said.

Colton tilted his head. “She seems like a more than self-sufficient woman.”

“Not what I meant,” I muttered as I slotted the receipts into the little black booklets with the logo emblazoned across the front.

“What did you mean, then?”

Suddenly, I didn’t like this line of questioning. Was he trying to find imperfections in my mother? Why did I care about that? No one was perfect, but that didn’t stop two people from being perfect for one another.

Would they really be perfect together, though?

I divvied out the checks to hands that reached out to the bar before I turned my attention back to the conversation.

“So, does practice start up in the morning?” I asked.

Colton stared me down for a while, but eventually relinquished himself to the line of questioning, for which I was quite thankful. “Yep. Bright and early in the morning.”

“The guys are going to hate the fact that they came here.”

“That’s the point,” he said flatly.

I giggled as a grin spread across my face. “Dad would’ve liked you.”

I wasn’t sure where the hell those words came from, but the way Colton studied me as he finished his watered-down Coke made my knees clack together behind the bar.

“I think I would’ve liked him, too,” he said so lowly that I wasn’t sure if anyone else heard him but me.