He nods without hesitation. “Yep. A lot of the dads do.”
I snort. “I haven’t noticed.”
“Did you notice Mr. Stetson staring at you today?”
That earns him a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
Sam gives me a rare grin. “He totally was.”
“Well, if he was, I’m sure it was because he was waiting for me to embarrass myself. He probably expected me to fall on my face. Or spontaneously combust.” Which, in a way, I guess I did—verbally. I wince as I remember how I snapped at him earlier. Not the smartest move, given he’s the head coach and I’m still in my probationary period with the team.
But did he have to be such an asshat? I didn’t know whether to kiss or kill him.
Kiss him out of gratitude for saving me when I wasstranded. Not any other kind of kissing. Certainly not the kind with heavy panting and wandering hands. The man does havemassivehands. I can only imagine how they’d feel roaming my body as he?—
“I’d be okay with it, you know.”
I’m startled out of my brief fantasy, knocking over one of the books I’ve been absentmindedly straightening on his nightstand.
“Okay with what, sweetie?”
“You dating. It wouldn’t bother me. As long as the guy wasn’t a jerk.” There’s a bitterness in his voice that’s too heavy for a twelve-year-old, one I know by heart. Courtesy of his father. Shawn may have given me the best thing in my life, but he also left a trail of wreckage in his wake.
I soften my voice. “While I appreciate your blessing, I think that ship has sailed for me.” I nod toward the massive wooden galleon paused mid-battle on his computer screen.
“If you say so. But there’s plenty of other fish in the sea.” His grin is back as he picks up the controller. “Or so I’ve heard.”
I roll my eyes, moving toward the door. “Don’t stay up too late, okay, Captain?”
“Aye, aye, faithful scullery wench.”
My laughter echoes down the hallway.
“Oh, Mom? Can I have another cookie in my lunch tomorrow, please?”
I don’t miss a beat. “Sure thing, love. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I head down the stairs grateful that penis cookies can be decorated to look like rocket ships so easily.
CHAPTER SIX
ARTHUR
I don’t seethe tennis ball coming, but I sure as hell feel it bounce off the side of my head.
“What the fuck?” I demand of the only other person in the room.
“Sorry, Ace,” Noah Watts says with a sheepish grin from where he sits in the chair across from my desk. “You stopped participating in our mostly one-sided conversation two minutes ago and seemed so zoned out, I wanted to make sure you hadn’t left the planet or something.”
Noah is the oldest player on my roster. He’s also one of my oldest friends. We played together for years back in Detroit and he still calls me by my old team nickname. God. Seems like a lifetime ago.
Probably because it was.
“I was paying attention,” I lie. “I just didn’t have anything to contribute.” I rub at the spot the ball hit. It didn’t hurt, but I’m still pissed he threw it.
Or are you pissed at yourself for thinking about her again?
