“Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” she mutters to herself.
Before I can ask about it, the inning ends, and I have to go back out to the field. The rest of the game passes far too quickly for my liking, and I don’t have a whole lot of time to talk to the woman consuming all of my attention.
Lark has the kids laughing the entire game, and I’ve never seen the team have this much fun before. Even though her smiles don’t reach her eyes and her face is lined with sorrowwhen she thinks no one is looking, Lark has a way of lifting others up.
It’s almost impossible not to smile in her presence, and I can already tell the kids will be begging me to bring her back.
When Jones yells “Out! Game over!” in the last inning, our dugout and the field erupt in cheers and hollers, the kids ecstatic about winning. We won by five runs, which is a pretty big margin for our team.
Lark’s jumping up and down in excitement with Maeve and a couple of the younger kids, and it’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen. I can’t wipe the stupid grin off my face as I watch her celebrating and high-fiving the kids.
After Oscar finishes giving his friends bro hugs, he plops down next to me, watching me watch Lark. “I never would’ve pegged you for a softie at heart, Coach Colt. You must really like her.”
She’s not paying attention to our conversation, so I answer honestly. “Yeah, I do. I’ve never met anyone like her.”
He throws his hands up. “Well, then, make it official! If you wait around too long, someone’s gonna snatch your girl. Bet you’re not the only one interested. Coach Lark is pretty, funny, kind, easy to talk to, and great with kids.”
He’s right. Lark’s every man’s dream. She’s fucking stunning, with her long reddish-brown hair, striking emerald eyes, and legs that seem to go on for days. She has similar interests with riding and baseball. Plus she’s smart, cool, funny, kind, and seems too good for this world.
I roll my eyes and ruffle his hair. “Thanks for the advice, kid.”
He huffs and pushes my hand away but can’t wipe the grin off his face. “Anytime, Coach.”
Unfortunately, things are complicated between us, for many reasons. Including a huge one that she doesn’t even know about.
But there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I’ll just have to keep trying to wear down Azrael while finding excuses to spend time with her. And I’ll have to hope when we can finally come clean, it won’t be too late.
CHAPTER 14
LARK
“You’re doing that wrong,” a rough voice growls from behind me.
I sigh and lean my head against the tank. I debate ignoring him because I’ve been having a good day so far. Even though I’ve only met him once, I can guarantee the surly man will absolutely fuck up my day.
But I’m much too polite not to respond.
“Azrael,” I say without turning around, acting like I’m still focused on the thermostat. Maybe if I pretend the terrifying man isn’t there, he’ll disappear. “You’re as delightful as ever. What, exactly, am I doing wrong?”
Two days ago, I found a puddle of bright green coolant under my bike. After an hour on the phone with Coop, I realized the problem was a cracked thermostat housing. So, I special ordered the part and got it in this morning. I’ve spent the past hour taking everything apart and starting the install.
It’s been almost two weeks since I helped Colt coach the baseball game and went out to dinner with him after. He wrangled my phone number from me so he can contact me if they need help again.
But he’s been texting me daily. I know I shouldn’t respond, but talking to him is often the highlight of my humdrum, routine days. It makes me wonder if I should try texting Hal and Rook, too, but something holds me back.
Azrael’s exasperated voice interrupts my thoughts. “You need silicone grease for the O-ring. Otherwise, it’s going to leak.”
I just barely resist the urge to slam my head against my bike in frustration. I don’t have any silicone grease. In fact, I only really have the basic tools and supplies here. Whenever I need anything more specialized, I get it from Coop and Charlie.
“Can I use lithium grease instead?” I have that on hand for lubing up metal-on-metal friction points, like my weirdly squeaky clutch lever.
“No.”
Fantastic.
Putting on my big-girl panties, I turn to face Azrael. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him.
There’s no doubt about it. He’s beautiful, in a lethal sort of way. The harsh planes of his face, his liquid gold eyes, and his jet-black hair give him an ethereal air. His black-and-gray tattoos, tanned olive skin, and muscles clearly visible under his suit only add to his deadly beauty vibe.
