Page 67

“Hey,” a voice called.

Stiffening, I turned toward the voice, already recognizing it. Lane stood near the far wall, one shoulder braced against a doorframe like it was second nature. Jeans, a fitted T-shirt, arms casually crossed as if he had all the time in the world. His bright green eyes caught mine. Jace followed my line of sight and froze.

“That’s—” he started.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Coach.”

He pushed off the wall and crossed the room slowly, his gaze never leaving mine.

“California,” he said when he stopped a few feet away, and I rolled my eyes. His gaze flicked to Jace and softened briefly. Then back to me.

“Massey,” I returned.

Jace looked between us like he was watching a tennis match and hadn’t been told the rules.

“You didn’t say you volunteered here this much,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Just giving back when I can.” He smirked. What game were we playing? I was just as lost as Jace.

“Okay. Well, I need to meet with my trainer, and I believe Jace’s activity starts in about ten minutes,” I said, looking around for someone waiting for me.

“Jace, you’ll meet in there,” Lane said as he gestured toward an open door in the corner. “And, Cali, you’re with me.” I wanted to choke the smugness from his very face, but I wasn’t sure if I could fit my hands around his neck. Jace gave me a quick closed-lip smile and shuffled toward the room.

“There wasn’t a professional adult available to train me?” I asked, skimming the room with my narrowed gaze. “Perhaps that grandma at the far table is available?”

Lane stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’m not sure what a ‘professional adult’ is, but I can assure you, Cali, I’m an adult.” My cheeks warmed.

“I meant someone that acted like an adult. Not someone that was a pretend adult.”

“Pretend adult?” He couldn’t hold back his grin. What was I even saying?

“You know, someone that has the heart of a volunteer. Someone wise. Someone older,” I reasoned, as if any of that made any sense.

Basically anyone who wasn’t him.

“Ahhh. Well, I am exactly a week older than you, so I believe that means I qualify, California.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“But it’s your name.” He knew I hated it.

“Okay. LANGFORD.” When the going gets tough, sometimes you’ve gotta pull out the big guns. He caught my arm and hauled me toward the back of the building like I was threatening national security.

“Sssshhhhhh. Someone could hear you!”

I cackled, hoping they had. He pushed me into a small room that was most likely a utility closet, judging by the cleaning supplies lining the shelves. At least he had the decency to flick on the light so we weren’t standing here in the dark like two psychos.

“I want a real trainer.” I huffed, crossing my arms.

“I am a real trainer.” He crossed his arms, mirroring my pose.

“Prove it.” I squinted my eyes.

“Ummm. Let’s see. I’ve volunteered here a few times a week since it opened.” My brows shot up. I’d assumed this was a publicity thing, but if he’d been volunteering regularly, maybe he did have the “heart of a volunteer,” whatever that was.

“Okay. Fine, but that’s all this is.” I huffed again.

“No one said it was anything but a trainer training a trainee.” I knew him too well to miss the lie.