A part of me, the one that feels like it’s coming home anytime I’m with Finley, could not agree more. And yet, there’s also nothing worse thanthe worldtrying to ’shipmewith Finley.
“Really? Is that how you’d feel if people were trying to set you up with your coach?” I ask.
Nate laughs. “Coach Mac has kept it tight for a sixty-year-old man, but he’s not quite the same as Coach Blake.”
There is nothing disrespectful about the way he says it, and yet, something inside me darkens at the thought of him dating Finley.
I fight against the need to ball my hands into fists, to send one flying through his face. Instead, I say, “Well, if you ever decide to date the person in charge of your career, you let me know. Maybe I’ll start making dumb decisions, too, and we can all double-date.”
“Deal,” Nate agrees. “It sounds like the perfect evening.”
Callan watches our exchange, amusement coloring his features. “I think you’re both outkicking your coverage in that plan.”
“Offensive,” Nate jokes. “I’m obviously the one who would be settling.”
I stay quiet.Finleyis the one who would be settling if we were ever to get together. I might be a pro hockey player, but she’s the first female coach in professional men’s hockey’s history. And more than that, she’s smart. And so sarcastic, most people mistake it for bitchy, but I know the truth.
“We really shouldn’t be talking about it.” I know how much she would hate that this conversation is happening. How it wouldn’t be happening aboutanyother coach. “Coach Blake has enough to deal with without worrying about one of her players wanting to date her.”
“And do you?” Callan tips his head slightly. “Want to date her?”
Shit. “That’s not what I meant.”
“So you don’t?”
I consider telling him. Confessing the feelings that have been plaguing me. The need to be with her, but what good would it do? Instead, I offer another truth.
“We’ve become friends because of this competition. Am I a little bummed that once it’s over, we’ll have to go back to being strictly professional? Sure. But I would never do anything to damage her career. I thought I knew what dedication looks like after what it took to get to where I am, but it’s nothing compared to what Coach Blake has had to do.”
The opening act finally finishes, and after chatting for a few more minutes, Nate moves to catch up with another friend of his. As Jaxon Steele walks on stage to a cacophony of cheers, Callan says, “Come on, let’s go listen to the concert of the year.” Nodding toward Finley and Charlotte, he adds, “We can sit withyour friend. I need to talk to Princess anyway.”
“Princess?” I ask. Christ on a cracker. I do not love that he has a nickname for Finley. I force the jealousy threatening to explode from my sternum back down again. What is going on with me tonight?
“Charlotte Langford. Her dad owns half this town, including the Stallions. Yet, I swear she forgets my name every time we run into each other.”
I let out a laugh. “First time that’s happened to you?” I ask. Callan had a reputation for being vain when I knew him and, in typical quarterback fashion, would be highly offended by someone not knowing who he was. It appears he hasn’t grown out of that particular trait.
Finley and Charlotte both turn toward us as we approach. My gaze meets Finley’s as Jaxon Steele sings about lost love.
“Hey, Cameron,” Charlotte says, as everyone shuffles to make enough room for us to join the group. “Great catch last weekend.”
“It’s Callan. And the season ended two months ago,” Callan mutters, exasperation written all over his face. “And I’m the quarterback.”
Finley laughs at the smile her friend gives the football player. I’m not sure whether she does it on purpose or not, but Finley leans into me slightly as her rich laughter pours out, and her touch is a lightning bolt through my system. She moves back, and the contact is gone too soon.
“Sorry,” she apologizes, an embarrassed grin flashing at me.
I nudge her with my shoulder, refusing to pull away. “Never be sorry about that.”
She nods, and we stay connected as we turn our attention to the performance, Callan and Charlotte bickering next to us.
When that song ends, I can’t help it anymore; I look down at Finley. My stomach flutters: she’s already looking at me. The small grin she gives me when our gazes meet is sweet and says things our mouths will never be able to. As much as I know I should, I can’t look away.
And then it hits me: I certainly more than like my coach as a friend.Fuck.
On stage, the band moves into a slow song, and a few of the couples in the room kiss or start slowly swaying, their arms around each other.
Finley sings along, gently rocking side to side as she does.
