“Not quite that many.” He smiles as if he’s enjoying me questioning his life choices. And why am I questioning him?
I want him to continue volunteering, but I can’t seem to help myself. I gesture toward the door. “Shouldn’t you be at practice or something?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m no longer the coach. I’m surprised no one said anything. Your mom or dad. Or anyone, really. Everyone in this town knows everybody else’s business.”
“Why would they do that?” Unexpected anger flashes through me. “You’re a great coach.”
“Hold on, Charlie.” He grabs my hands, maybe so I’ll stop waving them around. “No one did anything. I stepped down last year after the season was over. I wanted more time to focus on other things.”
My gaze shifts to the doorway. “Like Harper?”
“Yes. And other things I enjoy doing but didn’t have time for.” He catches my gaze. “Now, can we focus on why I’m here?”
“Of course. But I have tons of work to do— Wait.” I study his face. “Why are you here?”
He smiles, and it’s as bright as the sun streaming through my office window in the early morning. And I’m the small Jade plant on my desk stretching its leaves to capture the warmth.
Geesh, Charlie. Get a grip. But it’s not easy when Brad is still holding my hands and says, “I want to talk about Valentine’s Day.”
My thoughts flee as my lungs decide to stop working. I mean completely. They throw in the towel or whatever. I suck in a breath, encouraging them to get on with it, so I can tell Brad this is a bad idea. But all that comes out is a squeaky, “Valentine’s Day?”
“The party?” A line appears on his forehead. “For your parents’ anniversary? Any of this ringing a bell?”
I start to pull my hands back, but he’s got a good grip. And it’s not horrible. I clear my throat. “Yes. Of course I remember. What about it?”
“I made a list of places that cater. Want to go taste-testing with me?”
My eyes dart to the door. In theory, Raja could come back any moment. I don’t want them to think I’m goofing off. “Um, when?”
“I was thinking we could go Friday night. Check some of the places?—”
“Really?” I pull my hands away. “You want me to go out to eat with you on a Friday night? Sounds like a date.”
“It’s not.”
“But if we’re seen together on a Friday night, people will assume we’re on a date.”
“So what?”
I gape at him. “So what? We can’t date—not that you’d want to date me, but we can’t have?—”
He grabs my hands again and it stops my rambling. His eyes capture mine. “You think I wouldn’t date you? That I don’t want you?”
“Oh. Um.” My face is so hot it feels like it’s been welded on. And seriously, I need to stop watching power tool videos. And the ones where the hot guy chops wood. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Why…? I mean, look at me.”
His voice has a rough edge. “I thought we cleared this up. That text was about you.”
“Text?” I ask, shrugging one shoulder. But pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about is stupid.
And a huge mistake.
“Let me refresh your memory.” His voice drops even lower. “Gorgeous. Long blond hair. Tight jeans. Hot ass I’d like to tap.”
Desire, hot and pointed, hits me like a target, and Brad’s words are his weapons. Not just his words. The way his eyes burn into me is the perfect accelerant.
He cups my face, and I lean into his touch. His callused hand is rough and exciting against my skin. “I meant every word, Charlie.” His eyes drop to my mouth, and he brushes his thumb over my lower lip. When he presses down, my mouth opens at his unspoken request. My heart pounds erratically. I want to suck his thumb into my mouth. More. I want more. “I’d drop to my knees for this guy. For you, Charlie.” His fingers twist in my hair, and he pulls me closer. My body burns with a need to have his mouth on mine.
Briiiinnnnng.
