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“So, this isn’t the grand finale?”
“Never,” he said as he pulled me tighter to him and led me around the dance floor. “Besides, I figure if we set a good enough example for the millennials, maybe they’ll follow suit.
“Well, they’re definitely watching,” I said, sliding my thumb along his jaw.
“Good, then they can see what it looks like when two people coffee.”
I laughed. “I wonder what they would think if they knew what you did to your date on the way here.”
“Don’t remind me. If I get hard now, I’ll never be able to coach again. Damn it, woman,” he said as he closed his eyes tightly. “Two a day football practices, Trent Marcum picks his nose, Sloppy Joes.”
“Sloppy Joes?” I laughed again as he spun me around. “Those disgust you?”
“You have no idea. There’s a story behind it.”
“There always is.”
“It would make this night less romantic if I told you.”
“Some other time,” I said as the song ended, and Cameron led me off the floor.
“My turn, Coach,” a young guy that looked to be around sixteen said as he eyed me inappropriately.
“Not a chance, Marshall,” he said as he walked us toward the refreshment table and the jaded baker—who was murdering me with her stare—to get the rundown.
Though Cameron urged me to be selfish, I couldn’t help but pray she would get a chance to dance with her own prince someday.
Later that night, after a few hours of watching Cameron chaperone a room of teenage angst, break up two fights, and give a pep talk to one of the players who had cost them last week’s game, we strode out of the high school arm in arm.
“I loved watching you in that role. You’re a great mentor. You should see the way those kids look at you.”
Cameron remained quiet as we got into the limo.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, staring out the window as we sat in light traffic.
“Horseshit,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Sorry, that was the Bree coming out of me.”
Cameron nodded.
“Okay, you didn’t laugh, and I am funny,” I argued. “Spill it.”
Pulling away from my hand, he unfastened his tie and loosened his top button.
“Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade this for anything, but I hate that the older I get the closer I am to all business, less coaching. I don’t . . . I know things could be worse. I could not be coaching at all. At least my stores are doing well, right?”
“Hey,” I said as he turned to look at me. “You can coach as long as you want to. If it’s your thing, there’s nothing wrong with it, right? Just because it didn’t happen on the level you wanted it to doesn’t mean it couldn’t still happen. Just don’t give up and there will always be the possibility.”
“Tonight isn’t about me,” he said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“I beg to differ, Coach.” Pulling his tie free, I straddled his lap and undid a few more buttons.
“I’m going to make the rest of this night all about you,” I whispered, leaning into him as I pushed the button for the partition before I sank to my knees between his legs.
One of his perfectly sculpted brows lifted as I rubbed his cock through his pants. His reaction was immediate as I unzipped him and gripped him firmly in my hand.
“Sloppy Joes,” I whispered with a grin and his dick jumped. Leaning in, I licked the tip of him. His eyes closed, and he let out a string of curses.
