The O Coach

by Tara Wylde

  Erin shoots me a sideways glance as I slide onto the bench seat beside her. She gestures to her open container. “It looks okay.” She doesn’t bother to hide the surprise in her voice.

  I pass her a packet of sour cream. “And it’s going to taste even better than it looks. Promise.”

  Erin’s dubious expression remains locked in place, but she spreads the sour cream on the entrée and adds some extra spicy salsa and cuts off a tiny corner.

  I watch as she slides it into her mouth and swallows.

  “So what do you think?”

  She nods and swallows. “Okay, you’re right. It’s as good as anything I’ve ever eaten in a good restaurant.”

  I cut off a tiny corner of my own enchilada. “That’s because their food is restaurant quality. Some are even connected to the city’s most popular places.”

  “How do you know so much about these truck things?” Erin breaks a piece of enchilada off and checks it for onions before tossing it to Harlan.

  “I own one.”

  I feel her eyes boring into my skin. “What do you mean, you own one?”

  “A friend of mine is a chef. He wanted his own place, but the price of commercial real estate was way too much for him to handle. A food truck was the perfect solution. I covered half of his start-up fees. Now I’m a silent partner.”

  Erin lays her fork to one side. “I thought you told me you were a mechanic, so you make good money, but I don’t see how that’s enough to own a building like the Dovetail or be involved with at least two different business.”

  “My family was poor, the kind of poor that means you never know when or where your next meal is coming. I was determined to never be in that position again, so when I started working, I invested every dime that didn’t go for bills. It turned out that I had a knack for it. Before long I had the capital to start investing in local businesses, like my friend’s food truck and Many Miles Auto Parts.”

  “So you’re an investing wizard.”

  “I like to think of myself more as having the Midas touch. And not everything works out. I’ve invested in more than my share of flops over the years. I actively seek opportunities that let me play a silent role, where the hard work is someone else’s problem.”

  “I can’t imagine having enough money to not have to worry about it.” Erin shovels another bite of enchilada into her mouth. “I’d love to give up having to work for a living.”

  “What would you do if you did?”

  “Go on a long vacation. Buy a better car. Buy a house.”

  “What!” I stare at her in mock horror. “And move out of my apartment building? What could possibly be better than the Dovetail?”

  Erin snorts. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty happy with the way things work at the Dovetail, but I’m painfully aware that I won’t have anything to show for all the money I spend on rent.” She tosses Harlan another piece of enchilada. “The main thing I’d do if I didn’t have to worry about money is more work charity work.”

  “Just because I have money right now doesn’t mean I don’t worry about it.” I finish the last of my enchilada and reach to play with the ends of Erin’s hair. It seems like it’s been forever since the last time I touched her. “If anything I worry about money more now than I did when I didn’t have any.”

  Erin floats a brow. “Really. What about?”

  “I constantly worry about what will happen if I lose everything, which is why I pay a fortune to insurance companies. I have to worry that everyone is looking for clever schemes to turn some of my money into their money. I worry it’s changing me for the worse, that I’ll become a greedy, self-entitled bastard who thinks he’s better than everyone else just because I have money to burn.”

  “I can’t imagine that happening,” Erin says. I believe her.

  I finish the last of my enchilada and shove the empty box aside. Reaching over, I wrap a strand of her silky hair around my index finger.

  “Would you really give up your advertising firm if you had enough money?” I can imagine how much work it was to build it up from scratch. I can’t believe it would be easy to walk away from.

  Erin eats some more of her enchilada and considers the question. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I can’t imagine not working, and I really do love what I do, but if I had the right resources, I’d definitely restructure the company.”

  “Why did you go into advertising?”

  “I wanted to help people.” She glances at my expression and grins. “I know, most people don’t consider advertising and marketing the most altruistic of professions, but it really is how I got started. My college roommate was, is, obsessed with non-profits. She’s currently in charge of a women’s shelter that provides all sorts of aid to domestic abuse victims. I loved what she did, and used my natural marketing skills to help promote her efforts. This led to the creation of my marketing firm. I take on lots of good, paying clients, but I also do some pro bono work for non-profits and even businesses that are in the process of handling charity work. It’s my way of giving back to the community.”

  And proved that she was a good woman. While there are lots of business that will throw money at a charitable cause, few are willing to donate time and resources. My late wife is the only other person I know who was truly dedicated to improving the lives of others.

  I run a finger down her soft cheek. “I wish you and Maddie had met while she was alive. The two of you would have been great friends. You’re as caring and unselfish as she is.”

  Even as I say the words, I’m hit with a brilliant flash of insight. Maddy would love this. There’s no way she would have wanted me to stay buried in my apartment for the rest of my life walled off from as much of the world as I could possibly be.

  She’d want me to find someone else, and in my heart, I know she would have approved of Erin, that they would have probably become fast friends if they’d met during Maddie’s lifetime. That Erin’s exactly the kind of woman she’d want me to spend the rest of my life with.

  Which is good, because I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with Erin and that there’s nothing I’ll be able to do to stop myself from falling all the way.

  Chapter Thirty

  Erin

  Emotions clot together in my stomach.

  Garret isn’t my type, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember that. Each time he touches me, even when it’s just a casual brush of fingers against skin, like when he just touched my cheek, it lights a small flame within me that refuses to dim.

  Until he mentioned his late wife. In the past when he’s mentioned her, I didn’t mind. In fact, I thought it was sweet that he was clearly still in love with her, but now, hearing him talk to her, it’s like he’s lifted the lid on my internal Pandora’s box, revealing all my insecurity and doubts.

  Granted, nothing about our relationship, and I do think of it as such, has been orthodox, but yesterday our time at the state park felt like a tentative first date. And we made love, during which Garret taught me things about my body I’d barely dared to imagine were possible. And this, I don’t know what Garret is thinking, but to me it seems like a second date, assuming it’s possible to have a second date on the same day that the first one took place.

  Either way, it feels way too early in the relationship for him to be comparing me to his late wife. I know that she’s an important part of who he is, and while a part of me can respect that, that doesn’t stop the deep pain his words shot through my heart.

  I stand up and gather my trash.

  “Erin? Is everything okay?” Garret’s expression mirrors the concern in his voice.

  “I’m fine.” I throw everything in the trash before bending to untie Harlan’s leash. “It’s been a long day. I should get home.”

  I spin on my heel and quickly make my way to the sidewalk and turn toward the Dovetail apartment building, not bothering to check if Garret’s following.

  It doesn’t take long for Garret to catch up. He wraps a big hand a
round my elbow, effectively halting my progress.

  “Erin, it’s like someone flipped a switch. One second, you seemed relaxed and we were enjoying a good conversation, getting to know one another. The next you acted like I was the last person in the world you wanted near you. What gives?”

  My grip on Harlan’s leash tightens. The hurt his comment triggered isn’t gone, but it’s already beginning to fade, enough so that I’m willing to take the high road. Besides, our relationship is too new, too shiny, and too full of promise for me to throw it all away because I’m jealous of his late wife. She was, and to a certain extent still is, a big part of his life.

  I square my shoulders and meet his confused gaze.

  “It’s nothing. I get a little crazy now and again. You just lucked out and caught one of my spells.” I keep my tone light and flash Garret my brightest smile, hoping he won’t notice that it’s forced. “I’m tired, which is what probably triggered it.”

  “I get it.” Garret’s hand slides down my arm to my hand. Lightly clasping my fingers, he lifts it and places a featherlight kiss to the back. “You’ve been through a lot in…” He sneaks a peek at his watch. “The last twenty-four hours.”

  Some naturalness creeps into my smile. “That’s for sure.”

  Garret’s thumb traces lazy circles on my wrist as he looks deeply into my eyes. I swear he sees directly to my soul.

  “There’s a group of street performers who put on a pretty good show in that little park that’s just up the road,” he says without breaking eye contact. “I’d planned on taking you there.”

  “Really! I had no idea.” Street performers aren’t exactly common in Tucson and good ones who have a routine they do on a regular basis even less so. “Let’s go see them.” I start to move in the direction of the park.

  “Nope.” Garret shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? It sounds like fun.”

  “Because—” Garret tugs on my hand, pulling me until I’m flush with his body. He lowers his voice to a sexy purr that causes my stomach to tremble and my heart to pound. “You need to relax, and I know just the way to make that happen.”

  Those words and the feel of his body heat soaking through my clothing is all it takes for my bones to turn to liquid and my blood to run hot.

  “I’m up for whatever you have planned, just lead the way.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Garret

  The soft, soothing sounds of Debussy’s Claire de Lune, fill my apartment, the clear, sweet notes mixing with the clang and bang of my weight lifting equipment as I work out. Normally my workout sessions are accompanied by classic rock such as the Eagles and Bon Jovi, but tonight is all about Erin, so Debussy it is.

  I tap at the touch screen that runs my treadmill and the belt beneath my feet moves faster. My arms pump and my chest burns, but despite the discomfort, I keep running. Despite the effort, it doesn’t eradicate the image of Erin from my mind.

  Before returning to the Dovetail, we made a quick stop at the drugstore. Erin bought a couple of candy bars while I smuggled a box of fresh condoms and a bottle of sandalwood scented bath oil through the self-checkout. After hustling Erin up to my penthouse apartment, I filled the enormous whirlpool bathtub with water that I scented with the oil, put the Debussy on the sound system that played throughout my entire living quarters, handed her a glass of wine, and told her to soak for as long as she wanted.

  She looked surprised, then relieved.

  The only problem is that now I can’t stop thinking about what she must look like, the water swirling around her, her hair piled high on her head, with a few damp strands curling around her neck as small bubbles cling to her glistening skin.

  Once the image popped into my head, I couldn’t get rid of it.

  I don’t dare read a book or watch television while I wait for Erin to finish her bath. She needs some peace and quiet, and a chance to process everything that’s happened to her. She doesn’t need me constantly poking at her.

  Working out is the only activity that’s grueling enough and far enough from the bathroom to prevent me from diving headfirst into the tub and teaching her just how much fun a bath can be.

  I bump the treadmill to an even higher speed. My thoughts turn to that little scene next to the food truck. Erin might have been tired, she might have even been a little overwhelmed by everything that took place between us today, but she was all those things when we first left the building to find dinner. They might have been factors in her sudden shut down when she finished eating, but they weren’t the trigger. That was something I’d said. I just remembered what it was.

  The funny thing is, that as we were talking, I was more honest, shared more information with Erin than I ever did. Maddy and the folks at the IRS are the only ones who ever knew exactly how good I am when it comes to investing and making sound business decisions. My friends know that I’m well off, but even the ones who have projects I’ve invested in don’t know just how many different ventures I have a stake in, or how much I’ve earned off those. I don’t want the fact that I’ve earned a few billion dollars since turning twenty to change the way they feel about me. Some will be intimidated, others jealous, and I know that at least a handful of the people I consider friends would come up with a dozen different ways to relieve me of my money, and be offended if I told them no.

  It would have been so easy to underplay my financial situation when Erin asked. Over the years, I’ve become an old pro at half-truths to explain my ownership of various pieces of properties and assets.

  But when the subject came up, the cover stories wouldn’t come. It was like I was standing at a crossroads and every iota of my being screamed at me to be honest with Erin, that while I didn’t yet know what her long-term role in my life would be, all of my instincts screamed at me that I need to be honest with her.

  I always trust my instincts.

  And she handled it beautifully, even going so far as to tell me things about her life that I sensed she rarely, if ever, shared.

  And I was completely enchanted, apparently so much so that I’d managed to shoot off my big mouth and say something that had pissed her off, and then promptly forgot what it was.

  No matter how much I rack my brain, I just can’t remember my words.

  I tap the treadmill’s power icon, shutting the machine down. Harlan, who’s lying along one wall, raises his head and studies me with calm eyes. “Harlan,” I address him. “If I ever figure this out, I’ll try not to make the same mistake again.”

  The dog’s massive tail thumps against the ground.

  I look around, for the first time noticing that Sammy isn’t in the room. “Looks like your being here has put Sam’s nose out of joint.” I walk to the mini-fridge and pull out a water bottle. “He’s probably lying around somewhere, plotting his revenge. The last time I upset him, he threw up in my shoes. Three times. Talk about disgusting.”

  “Garret?” I spin around at the sound of Erin saying my name. She’s standing in the doorway. The huge, rose-colored robe I got from her apartment engulfs her, making her appear tiny. Dressed in a bathrobe, with strands of wet hair framing her face, she’s hotter than most women are when they’re wearing full makeup and an evening dress.

  “Hey.” I keep my voice soft and involuntarily take a step toward her. “I thought you’d stay in the tub longer.”

  “I thought about it.” The corners of her mouth lift in a shy smile that grows more confident as her eyes roam down the length of my body. “But the longer I laid there, the more I realized there was something else I wanted.”

  My cock twitches, a direct reaction to the unbanked heat in her eyes.

  “And what else do you want?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from a long way away.

  Erin’s smile takes on a distinctly naughty quality. She reaches for her waist, tugs the knot holding connecting the two ends of the belt loose, and lets the robe slide off her shoulders and fall to the ground. The wate
r bottle falls, forgotten, to the floor, the contents seeping into the carpeting.

  Without the slightest bit of hesitation, her pretty eyes meet mine. “I want you.”

  “Um…” is the only thing I can think to say as Erin steps out of the massive folds of terry cloth that have enveloped her bare feet and pads across the floor toward me. Her hips sway seductively and her eyes gleam with intent.

  My cock is all but weeping with delight. Just thirty seconds ago, I was convinced that I was going to back off. I had every intention of tucking Erin into my bed and letting her get a good night’s sleep, alone, but that plan was falling apart faster than ice on a hot sunny day.

  Erin wraps her fingers into my T-shirt, not caring that it’s soaking wet from my workout. She gives it a tug, drawing me to her. The scent of sandalwood floods my senses.

  She tips her head back, her big beautiful eyes capturing mine, holding them. “I decided that as good that bath felt, the things you did to my body today felt even better and that I’m a fool to not take advantage.”

  I swallow and try to remember how to speak. “Okay.”

  “I want to feel your skin against mine,” she says, just in case I didn’t understand what she meant when she said that she wanted me. “I want to feel your cock jump and twitch when you come inside of me.” She releases my shirt but reaches for the front of the sweatpants I’m wearing. She plucks the waistband away and slides her hand inside, her fingertips brushing against the proof of my arousal.

  I reach out and place my hand against the wall, using it for support as my knees threaten to buckle.

  Erin’s grin grows even wider. “Feels like you’re as happy with my wants as I am.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Garret

  Erin’s hand moves away from my cock, the loss nearly making me cry until she wraps both of her hands around the waistband of my sweat pants and pushes them all the way down to my ankles.