Page 11 of Hometown Halftime

“Just getting a read on the girls,” I say, loosening my hold. “They have a lot of energy.”

“It’s good energy, though,” he says. “They seem excited.”

“They do.” I watch Brooke smack Paige with a practice jersey. “Maybe too excited.”

He laughs and it’s a warm, deep sound that wraps around me.

I focus on the team. “Okay!” I shout. “Gather up!”

The girls scramble to surround Riley and me again.

“I said no drills today, but we have twenty minutes left,” I tell them. “So, I want you to pair off and pass the ball. Coach Weston and I will demonstrate what we’re looking for, but I just want you to focus on grip and control, being sure to pass laterally or behind you. Try to have fun and don’t overthink it.”

Riley grabs a ball and passes it to me. I talk about grip, then Riley moves about ten feet across from me and we exchange a few passes. I almost drop one because I was watching his forearms instead of the ball. That’s when I tell the girls to split into their pairs.

They break off, tossing the rugby balls awkwardly through the air.

I stand beside Riley, arms folded. “Thoughts?”

“They’re athletic,” he says. “A little chaotic, but they like you.”

“They don’t know me yet,” I say quietly.

He glances at me. “They don’t need to know you to see that they want to impress you.”

The warmth that surges up my spine is unwelcome. I clear my throat and step forward to help adjust someone’s stance.

For the next fifteen minutes, Riley and I move around the field, showing girls how to hold the ball, angle their hands, and plant their feet. He’s a natural at it. He’s gentle when he needs to be, firm when correcting, and patient with every single question.

At one point, a gust of wind blows his hair forward, and he brushes it back like he’s out of a damn episode of Baywatch.

I don’t react externally. But internally, I’m having a catastrophic meltdown.

Practice winds down and the girls jog to the sideline.

Paige groans dramatically. “I hope we get to tackle each other next time.”

After handing out some forms and saying goodbye, they drift off toward the parking lot, still buzzing with energy.

Riley gathers a pile of cones beside me. “Day one survived.”

A warm feeling rises in my chest. We did survive it and the team has potential. Sure, they’re newbies, but I’m pretty sure we can shape all their energy into a team that can win a couple games.

“Barely,” I say, though I’m smiling. “But it was fun.”

“It was,” he agrees.

He gestures to the remaining equipment. “I can take care of all this.”

“We’ll do it together,” I say. “Teamwork, Weston.”

He grins and grabs the cones. I gather the balls and tell myself that I will remain a professional around my assistant.

And that the little mishap earlier in the hallway will be the one and only time I ever touch his dick.

Chapter four

Riley