10
Reyes
After the fourth week of the soccer clinic, it was time for our big servicemembers vs coaches fundraiser event. Everyone in Reedsport and the surrounding towns knew about the event, thanks to the kids’ enthusiasm. Mostly, they were excited about the Team USA jerseys Greg was bringing to be auctioned off. Greg played striker for the United States and was far less reserved about being in the spotlight than I was, but so far, he and Rome had both respected my wish to remain on the down low. The kids knew I was once a striker for Mexico, of course, but they were more familiar with the American players than they were with Mexico’s.
Cars were lined up all down the main road when I arrived, filling nearly every parking lot and available spot on the curb. It looked as if the entire town had come out to support us.
Our goal for the day was to raise $40,000. A South Carolina developer already offered to cut us an amazing deal on the new building, but with the company’s limited funds, we had to have a sizeable down payment to keep the loan payments within our budget. We kept the entry fees low, at only $3 a person, and had a few donation bins on display at the information, concession, and raffle booths.
We’d set up two of our fields for the games and planned to have two of them going simultaneously for thirty minutes. The teams would be a mix of HotShot coaches and athletes versus the servicemembers. We ended up getting a large enough response from the police department, two fire stations and hospital staff to have four soccer teams, which meant HotShots had to bring in some of their older, more skilled players to participate as well, forming two teams that would play twice. Everyone from HotShots wore their usual bright red jerseys. While the police officers wore bright green, the fire department’s jerseys were orange, and the hospital’s team was in blue.
The first hour of the event was scheduled for a meet and greet. People were able to walk around the fields and get to know each of the participants or have their pictures taken with them if they wanted. It was also the guest’s best chance to decide who they’d vote for in the raffle, dropping the tickets they’d purchased into buckets beneath pictures of each of the players. Whoever scored the most points during the game would split the winnings with the guests who bid on them. All the profits from the other buckets would go back to the clinic.
At one point, Harrison and Tim found me and each gave me a big hug, each of them nearly bouncing with excitement.
“We voted for you!” Harrison said proudly.
“Well, of course you did!”
I saw Jake as I made my way to the small stage located between the fields. There were four other officers with him, each of them in the bright green shirts. A swarm of kids surrounded them, jumping around and laughing excitedly. I chuckled at how uncomfortable Jake seemed, almost as if he couldn’t stand to be that close to the kids. His face even looked a little green when one of them wrapped her arms around his waist to get his attention. He gave me a weak smile when I called his name, but he was too busy trying to wrestle his way out of the girl’s hold to wave back at me.
Once Rome had the crowd’s attention, he thanked everyone for coming and gave a small speech about the clinic and its hopes for the future. Then, it was game time. The hospital staff, which was a mix of doctors, PAs, and nurses, was on one of fields first. On the other field, one of the fire departments was gearing up to play as well.
The first match went easily. HotShots played against the firemen, who proved to be fast and fierce competitors. Our team still claimed the victory by two points, but it hadn’t been easy. When it came time for the second match, I looked around in anticipation for Jake, winking at him as soon as he came on the field. That sexy grin I loved so much spread over his face, taunting me.
“You asked to play against me, didn’t you?” Jake teased.
“Nope. I wasn’t supposed to play actually, but with this many people, we needed another coach.” I laughed when I noticed the number on his jersey. “69? Really?”
Jake grinned “It’s my lucky number. What can I say?”
I shook my head and shoved him playfully.
The teams assembled in the center, and the referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of our match. Both teams came together in a crash, fighting for control of the ball. Greg snatched it first, blocking a dark-haired woman, and quickly broke free from the fold of players to tear down the field. I chased after him, ready to defend. Within seconds, we scored our first goal. Cheers erupted from the crowd, as well as a few lighthearted boos from overenthusiastic spectators. I spotted Harrison on the sidelines as I ran back toward center field and made my way over to him. He beamed when our hands collided for a high five.
By scoring the first goal, we seemed to push the other team into focus. Two of the officers must have played in the past because suddenly they were on point. Fierce and quick on their feet, the two men were proving to be a challenge, even making it difficult for me to pull off some of my favorite moves. I kept hoping for a chance to perform my signature ghost kick, since my kids had been begging to see it from day one, but the other team rarely gave me the space I needed to get it airborne.
It was impossible not to thrive on the energy around us, filling me with a familiar kind of burn. It reminded me so much of when I’d played in larger stadiums or during the playoffs, and it made me long for those days again. I tried to shove aside the sadness and just have fun.
For the most part, the two officers with experience managed to carry their team. Jake was doing his best, but his skills left much to be desired. He’d already cost his team a goal by letting the ball slip by, only to be snatched up by my team, and his frustration continued to grow when he missed yet another pass. He looked so damn adorable when he threw his hands up in the air in defeat. I wanted to laugh, except I could tell his emotions were getting the best of him. Jake must have had a wicked competitive side and his mistakes were clearly getting to him. His face was scrunched in concentration as he watched the ball, but he struggled to get deep enough into the action to make a move. I nearly snorted at that thought, Jake certainly had had no problem getting in deep in my room the other night.
When I saw him stifle a few curse words, I got in his space. “Relax, babe, we’re just having fun.”
We danced around each other until finally he whirled around and lunged to kick the ball, sending it off in a new direction away from my teammates. I doubted it was the move he’d been going for when he fell on his ass, but it worked, giving his team control. The crowd cheered while Jake grinned, pleased he’d finally done something right.
I pulled him to his feet and leaned in to whisper, “Do that again and I’ll give you a BJ tonight,” before running off with a smirk.
“Oh, you little…” I heard him mutter, chasing after me.
For the rest of the game, Jake and I battled for dominance. I heard people calling our names from the sidelines as we ran, but didn’t bother to see who it was. Jake was ruthless now, ready to take advantage of any opportunity I’d give him. Which wasn’t many, of course, since it was far too easy to keep the ball from him. I was having more fun teasing Jake than I was actually playing.
When the final whistle blew, HotShots claimed the victory by three goals.
Jake bent over, hands on his knees. His blond hair clung to his sweaty forehead as he tried to catch his breath, but at least he was smiling.
I clapped a hand on his shoulder, breathing nearly as hard as he was.
“Unfair advantage, I’d say. Let me guess, the tall guy has played for a while too?”
