He pulls me forward, pressing his mouth to mine. “Yes. I’m not ashamed, I’m not hiding. I want to protect you and Jess as much as I can. That’s all. So, low profile, but not invisible.”
“Oh!” I say, sitting up. “I have an idea. I saw celebrities do this. They wear the same clothes to and from everywhere they go, so the paparazzi always sees the exact same thing, which means no one believes it’s different content. We can do that. I’ll always wear the helmet and gold jacket when we’re on your bike and you can always wear the same thing too. They can be our outside outfits! They’ll move on quicker.” I pause. “Probably.”
Hansley’s smiling as he watches me. His hand raises, his thumb brushing my lip. No more words pass between us for a few minutes. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but when he looks at me like that, I can’t help but think that I’m dangerously close to falling for this man.
CHAPTER 30
HANSLEY
Istand back to look around the room. We’re in the biggest of the gymnasiums. The perimeter is lined with folding tables covered in food. While our initial plans were to make the potluck open to the community as another means for raising funds, I had a different idea and the department agreed.
Most of the department. There’s one entity that isn’t aware of what’s going on. Not yet anyway.
Alka stands next to me, slightly shaking his head. “He’s going to beat you in front of everyone.”
I snort. “He won’t.”
“I know you think so, but we have cameras waiting. Just in case.”
Grinning, I slap his shoulder. “I’m impressed that nearlyeveryonebrought a dish.”
Between the seven teams, the coaching staff, the trainers—everyone—that’s over 150 dishes. Everyone except football. But there’s a reason for that.
I glance up at the banners spread all around the room. Once we got our teams involved, they went all out. There were 112 balloons on the ceiling, one for each player with their name and number, and a bigger one for Coach Lemon.
There are two enormous banners on either end of the room. One reads ‘Congrats on an amazing season!’ and the second reads ‘Good luck at division playoffs.’ There are more banners all around the room, one from each team, with their well wishes for the next game.
“He’s going to kick your ass for interrupting his practice,” Declan adds. “I’m pretty sure they’re sacred.”
I grin. Both of them know that Lemon and I are in an unofficial relationship. I’ve talked to Alka about it several times in the evenings when I’ve come home to his spare room. I have a few offers out on houses, so just waiting to see who gives me the best deal. For now, I’m enjoying the company of Alka and his men.
“Coach!”
Nearly everyone in the room turns to see one of the field hockey players standing in the door. “Football team is heading to the field.”
“Thank you, Darlene,” I call back as I move to go. “Make sure we’re ready. Just as planned.”
“Of course,” Alka says. “Good luck.”
I jog the short distance between the student center and the football field. To make sure practice doesn’t begin yet, I walk right down the 50-yard line. We discussed waiting until after practice, but then we’d either have to deal with sweaty football players or take a chance that we’d miss wrangling everyone up after and someone doesn’t make it.
So yes, I’m definitely taking my chances here. Hoping that Lemon isn’t too upset with me.
I can hear him talking. His voice is loud, firm, but not unkind. I’m not sure what tips them off, but suddenly, everyone is turning to watch me approach. From here, I can see Lemon’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.
“Be right back,” he tells the team and walks through them to meet me a few yards away. “What’s wrong?”
The fact that his first thought is that something’s wrong makes my chest warm. “I need you to not be mad that I’m about to interrupt your practice and come with me.” His expression becomes even more confused. “I needall of youto come with me.”
He frowns. “Why?”
Bringing my hand up, I brush a thumb along his jaw and then cup the side of his neck. “Please, trust me. No questions. Can you do that?”
Lemon chews his lip as he studies my face. Sighing, he says, “Fine. You’re going to have a hundred angry football players for making them stay late tonight.”
“I think you’ll change your mind.”
With a huff, he turns and hollers, “Orderly fashion, we’re following Coach Hansley.”
