“Hi there, Coach.” She stops at my side, the scent of her perfume swirling around me. Vanilla, with the touch of strawberries. The same smell I licked off her when she was spread out on her bed. “Those flowers are beautiful. I didn’t know you were a florist in your free time.”
“I’m not. Some guy in Florida recommended them.”
“So fragrant.” Hannah leans forward, bringing her nose close to the petals. Her hair grazes my forearm and I freeze, not daring to move. “I wish I had a big backyard where I could grow flowers and vegetables. Since I don’t, I collect keychains instead.”
“Keychains?” I exhale when she takes a step back. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a silly tradition I started when I traveled for competitions. I wanted to bring something home from each city I stayed in, and I’ve made it my mission to track down the funkiest, weirdest ones. Like, I have this one from Lake Placid that sayssquare dancers do it with seven other people. Makes for a good conversation starter.”
I bark out a laugh. “You have my attention.”
“It’s fun, right? If you ever find a bizarre keychain on your travels around the country, please send me a photo. They make me indescribably happy.” Her elbow lands in my ribs with a gentle nudge. “Are you planning on going inside?”
“Debating on it. Might stay out here the rest of the afternoon.”
“Wow. And here I thought Brody Saunders wasn’t afraid of anything.”
“I’m not afraid. Just…” I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “Sometimes I don’t know how to act around them. My coaching style changed after Riley’s accident. I never used to text my players. I didn’t spend Thanksgiving with them. There was a clear separation. But now?—”
“Now you know life is short, so you want to make an effort. You realize there’s no harm in hanging out with them, but you’re not used tonotacting like their coach.” Hannah cocks her hip to the side. “Did I get that right?”
“Yeah, and it’s freaking me out.” I mess with the twine wrapped around the flower stems. “I don’t like people knowing all my secrets.”
“Your secret is safe with me. Step one is going inside and knowing they’ll be happy to see you. Step two is eating so much food, you have to unbutton your pants. Step three is walking it off so you can have another slice of pie when you get home.” She rests her palm on my shoulder. “Here. I’ll go first.”
Hannah opens the door and steps inside. I follow her, lingering in the foyer while she takes off her coat and hangs it on the wall with a collection of other clothing. Warmth surrounds me. So does the smell of food and something sweet, and I relax when the door shuts behind me.
“Step one is complete,” I mumble.
“You’re doing great, BB,” she tells me.
Looking down at her is a mistake. Her palm is flat on the wall. She’s lifting her leg, unzipping her boot. I see those strong thighs. White socks that give me heart palpitations, and I wonder, fleetingly, if she’ll ever be out of my system, even though I know the answer.
“What does BB mean?” There’s chalk in my throat. I cough twice to try and clear it. “That’s new.”
“Broody Brody. I just thought of it.” She pinches my cheek, the spot where my smile would be if I wasn’t so mesmerized by the sight of her knees. “Have fun!”
“Who’s here?” Ethan comes bounding around the corner, stopping in his tracks when he sees me hovering in the doorway like an unwanted guest. “No fucking way. Boys,” he practically screams. “Get your asses in here!”
“I swear to god, someone better be dead, Easy E.” Maverick appears with an apron tied around his neck, scowling Ethan’s way. “Why are you—Coach?”
“Wait. Coach is here?” Grant stands on his toes, shoving past the other two. “He came,” he whispers. “It’s a miracle.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.” I hold out the flowers. “These are for your wife.”
“She’s going to love them. Thanks, man.” Maverick beams and gestures for me to take off my shoes. “Come on in.”
I follow them to the kitchen where I accept a water from Maverick. A quick lap around the house has me finding the rest of the guys and the significant others they brought. They all greetme with a hug. A hand on my shoulder and an excited whoop. By the time I reach a very pregnant Emmy sitting on the couch, I’ve finally relaxed.
“Emerson Hartwell.” I shake my head when she tries to stand up. “Don’t you dare. Not on my account.”
“Brody Saunders.” She grins. “I’ve lost a little bit of my speed.”
“For good reason. How are you feeling?”
“I’m ready for this baby to get here. If Miller asks whether I need my pillow fluffed one more time, I’m going to induce labor myself.”
I chuckle. “He’s come a long way, hasn’t he?”
