“Anything. How was practice today? I was there,” she explained. “With Sophie.”
“I’m aware.”
“I didn’t think you noticed me.”
He noticed everything about her, the slope of her nose outlined by the spangled window, the curve of her cheek in the glow of the dashboard. He realized he was staring and jerked his gaze back to the road.
Now’s your chance...
The touch screen lit up.Call from LAURA SMITH.
Dee glanced at the display and then at him. “Should you get that?”
His jaw set. “No.”
“Kind of late for a work call,” she observed as it went to voice mail.
“Yes.”
Dee slid him a shy, mischievous smile. “But not a booty call.”
She was teasing. Even flirting a little. He should shut that down. But her smile had scrambled his brain. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of what to say.
“I thought Laura would be back in the UK by now,” Dee continued. Apparently that whole it’s-your-turn-to-talk business couldn’t silence her natural friendliness. Or else his silence made her nervous.
He cleared his throat. “We’re moving more of our staff operations from London to Dublin to guarantee access to the EU single market.” Christ, he sounded dull. “And the practice was fine,” he added. “The boys did well.”
She blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “You seemed very focused. Lots of kicking and stuff.”
He bit down on a smile. “Passing drills.”
“I never played soccer. Football. Any sports, really.”
“Indeed.”
“My sister did. After we went to live with Aunt Em and Uncle Henry, I enrolled her at the Y. But I was a klutz.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that you weren’t good at sports because you didn’t have opportunities to play, rather than that you didn’t play because you weren’t any good?”
“Tim, you had to put peas on my elbow because I walked into a banister. I’m pretty sure I’ve always been a klutz.” She said it quite cheerfully, an engaging mix of self-deprecation and acceptance. “I suppose you played sports in school.”
Captain of his House team in football. Upper Boat eight for the school. “Yes.”
“Football? Quidditch?”
He did smile then. Naturally, she was a Harry Potter fan. “Football and rowing.”
“Your parents must have been proud.” She sounded wistful.
“Enough. It was more that it was... expected. My father and grandfather were pleased when we won, of course. My mother used to worry I’d get hurt.”
“She must have hated it when you went into the army.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Yes.”
She turned in her seat. He couldfeelher studying him, the weight of that soft brown gaze, but eventually she must have decided to let it go, because all she said was, “And now you coach.”
“Yes.”
