That confused me more than it should have.
Tiny huffed and shoved his nose into my hand again.
I swallowed. “Your dog’s needy.”
“He knows what he wants.”
“Must be peaceful.”
Reid studied me for a second too long.
My pulse reacted like an idiot.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “Eight-thirty. Players’ lounge. Bring your notebook. Put your phone away before you walk in.”
A laugh kicked out of me, sharp at the edges. “You giving me homework?”
“I’m giving you expectations.”
“And if I don’t meet them?”
His expression did not change, but the air between us tightened.
“Then we’ll have a different conversation.”
It should not have sounded like that.
It should not have made my stomach drop in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
I was twenty-three years old, straight, dating a woman whose face was currently on billboards for a skincare brand downtown. Declan Reid was my coach, thirty-two, married, and looking at me like I was a puzzle he had every intention of solving one piece at a time.
None of that stopped my body from paying attention.
I shifted my weight, restless and irritated with myself. “You always this dramatic?”
“No.”
“Special occasion?”
“You tell me.”
The answer that rose in my throat was too honest, so I buried it under a grin. “See you at eight-thirty, Coach.”
I opened my car door.
“Holloway.”
I paused.
Reid stood beside his SUV, Tiny leaning against his leg now, leash loose in his hand. “Tie your shoe before you drive.”
I looked down.
My left lace was undone again.
For some reason, that was the thing that got me. Not the meeting. Not the correction. Not the expectation. The fact that he’d noticed my damn shoe and said it like it mattered, like I mattered, like details were not small if they kept you from tripping.
I crouched and tied it, fingers moving too fast and clumsy before I forced them to slow down.
