After he finally managed to extricate himself from the fans, he put a hand on her lower back to guide her out the door. That simple touch—polite, not sexual—revved her engines and blew the dust off her long-abandoned hormones.
Walking toward her car, she struggled to find something to say. “Thanks for the pizza.”
He let out a soft breath, and she realized she’d already thanked him before. That was going to get old.
“This is me.” She stopped by the car and made sure to take a healthy step back before turning. “The parents all appreciate your volunteering for coach. Saves one of us from having to pretend like we know what we’re doing out there.”
That made him laugh. “It’ll be fun, I’m sure. There’s almost no pressure this way. My job’s not on the line because I made a crappy call to pull someone or leave them in. Makes me remember the fun of the game even if it’s not my sport.”
There was an awkward silence, and she clicked the unlock button to her car. “Thanks again for—”
“The pizza?” he cut in, grinning.
“Wow, yeah.” Covering her face with her hand, she sagged against her car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
One large hand cupped her elbow, and she shivered at the touch. “Go out with me tomorrow night.”
That had her eyes flying open. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Go out with me. Just us, no team of teenage boys as a buffer.”
Whoa, buddy. She took another step back, for clarity more than anything, and rammed straight into her car. That jostled her, but Clay’s other hand gently gripped her other arm, and she felt steady. Safe.
“Let’s just…uh…huh.” Articulate, Kristen. Try again. “We, uh, work together.”
“We do.” He seemed amused by her lack of coherent thoughts. “But we’re also two mature adults who don’t seem to have trouble being professional at work. Not to mention, I’m not your supervisor and you’re not mine. As it is, we rarely interact in the office.”
She nodded at that.
“I doubt we’ll hit a rough spot and end up fighting for all the world to see on Instagram like a couple of teenagers.”
She laughed at that. “No, that’s probably a likely bet.”
“So have dinner with me.” He leaned in, just the top half, staying a respectful distance apart, but she could still feel him pressing into her…or maybe that was wishful thinking.
And she had the crazy idea to reach up and kiss him. Just brush her lips against his. Test the waters, so to speak.
But she wouldn’t.
“Kristen,” he said quietly, and she realized it was the first time she’d heard him say her first name out loud. “Go out with me.”
“I have to pass.” Regret was a heavy stone in her stomach when she pulled away. “I’m sorry. It’s just not the right time.”
“This isn’t one of those things about your son, right?”
“Isaac?” She blinked, shading her eyes a bit from the last of the evening sun. “No, it has nothing to do with him. I just… I’m just thinking the answer is no.”
“For now.”
“Hmm?”
“The answer is no, for now. I get it. You need more convincing.” With a dramatic sigh, Clay stepped away and gave her a mournful look that would have made Deputy Dawg proud. “I have to prove my worthiness. I understand.”
“What? No, that’s not…fine.” Throwing her hands up, she rolled her eyes and gave in to the laughter. “Yes, you have to prove yourself to me first. But I warn you, the answer is still probably going to be no.” There were just too many pitfalls. Too many booby traps ahead. And she didn’t trust her instant turnaround from dislike to intense lust where he was concerned. She needed more time to work that out for herself before trying a date. Or two.
“I’m not worried. I’ve been told I have an irresistible face.”
“Oh yeah? Who fed you such lies?” she teased, unlocking her door.
“My mom. I might have been three. Maybe four. I hear I was almost angelic.” He batted his eyes, and through her laughter, she nearly caved. He was truly growing on her. She’d misjudged him from the past.
Easy, girl. Your lust-o-meter just came back to life. Don’t jump too fast.
“I’ll try again,” he said, almost as a gentle warning. “Now that I know you’re not repulsed by me, I’m going to keep trying. I’m persistent. It’s how I got to where I am.”
“I can guess,” she murmured. “Let’s just leave it at a maybe. I’m not saying no, but I’m saying not yet.”
“I can handle that.” He held her door open for her, then stepped back without a word and waved as she drove off.
Her hands weren’t entirely steady until she was pulling onto her own street.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Kristen found a single rose with a note attached sitting on her desk.
Marge hadn’t arrived yet—Kristen always showed up at least fifteen minutes early for work—so she quickly tucked the flower in the file drawer of her desk before pulling the note free.
With trembling fingers, she opened the card in her lap.
I’m going to keep trying. - C
Okay. The man had moves. Or rather, words.
“Good morning!” Marge called out as she walked into the desk area of the reception.
With another longing glance at the rose, Kristen tucked the note into her purse and closed the drawer. “Morning.”
“I just passed by Coach Barnes in the hallway, and he asked to have a word with you when you have a minute.”
Kristen watched for a moment while Marge packed away her own purse and settled at her desk. But if the woman knew anything suspicious, she wasn’t showing a single sign.
“Okay, then, I guess I’ll go back. You’re okay up front?”
Marge laughed and shooed her away. “First thing in the morning? I’m fine, sweetie. Whatever he needs. Just buzz up if you’ll be back there for any length of time.”
“I shouldn’t be,” she said before passing through the main doors that would lead to the coaching offices.
Shouldn’t be. Wanted to be. Two very different things.
Clay watched Kristen approach his office, walking with purpose. How was it the woman managed to sway those hips in that tight skirt and still look professional and pulled together?
Because you’re a perv who’s giving her the slow eye, that’s why. Nobody else is watching her that closely.
Oh yeah. Right.
She paused at his door and knocked twice before sticking her head in. Her feet, he noticed, remained firmly planted out in the hallway. “You needed to see me?”
Hell yeah, I did.
“Yes, thanks. Come on in.” He waited while she walked in—leaving the door open behind her—and stood in front of his desk with her arms clasped in front. God, what he wouldn’t do to play out a fantasy or two with her in his office… Damn glass front door. “I wanted your opinion on something, as far as personalities go.”
That seemed to take her by surprise. She blinked, then nodded slowly. “Okay, who?”
“Coach Jordan.”
At that, she went and closed the door silently before coming to sit down. “Let’s try this again. What exactly do you need?”
She was in her professional element. Ready to roll. It was a heady thing to watch. “He’s asked me to take on a project I think is a waste of time. I want your opinion on him. Is he the kind of guy who listens to your reasons for ditching a project and doesn’t hold it against you regardless of the outcome? Or will giving him my honest opinion be putting myself on his shit list?”
She sat back in the chair, crossing her legs and tapping her fingers on the armrest. An image of sliding his hands up that tight skirt to reach her panties and pull them down before—
“I think the former, to be honest.” Her answer pulled him out of his ill-advised daydream. “He might not agree with you, and he might still ask you to finish the project regardless of yo
ur feelings. But I don’t see him torpedoing your career with the Bobcats because you disagreed on one small thing. I think how you tell him you disagree with the project will matter more to him than whether you do or not.”
“Good to know.” It lined up with his instincts, but double-checking was never a bad idea. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Is that all?” She hesitated, hands gripping the armrests as if ready to leverage herself up.
“That’s all.”
She hesitated, and he knew she wanted to say something about the flower. Or maybe, she wanted him to say something about the flower. But he merely smiled and waited.
“Then I’ll go back to my desk,” she finally said slowly, standing and walking to the door. When she reached it, she turned and looked at him over her shoulder. Christ, she made a gorgeous picture.
“Can I ask you something?”
Ah, here it was. He settled back in the chair and bit the inside of his cheek a little to keep from smiling. “Shoot.”
“Why did you ask me, instead of someone like Marge or even Trey?”
Not quite the question he’d been waiting for. “You’ve worked here longer than Marge.”
“I have. How did you know that?”
“I might have done some snooping of my own recently.” He lifted one shoulder. “Persistent.”
Her eyes crinkled a little as she fought a smile. “No kidding.”
“Trey has the double strike against him. I’m his superior, which means he might couch his feelings on the subject. But that’s also his father-in-law. I won’t put him in that position.”
The smile bloomed freely across her face, and he wished he’d gotten her a dozen roses instead of the one. Even if she couldn’t have hidden them. “Okay then.”
And then she was gone.
Okay then? Just… Okay then? What that good or bad?
He’d find out sooner rather than later.
Kristen dug through her bag for her keys, wondering for the millionth time why she still carried such a large purse when she no longer had to haul around juice boxes, baby wipes, and emergency Underoos.
She didn’t miss those days.
As she stepped into the elevator that would take her up one level to her car, she continued to dig. And nearly jumped out of her skin with a shriek when something brushed her elbow. Grabbing the first thing that came to hand for a weapon, she jumped back against the wall and brandished the comb like a sword.
“Whoa. Hey.” Coach Barnes took a big step back in the small space, his back hitting the opposite wall of the elevator car, hands up, palms out. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Heartbeat still pounding in her ears, Kristen slowly lowered the comb. And in the next instance, her face flushed with embarrassment. Looking down at her bag, she took her time returning the comb. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Did I scare you that badly?” His voice was gentle, not mocking, but it didn’t ease her embarrassment.
“No. I mean, yes.” She sighed and then laughed at herself. “This is such a secure building, and the parking lot has never seen any trouble. I’m just in my own head, totally unaware of my surroundings. Then you touched my arm, and it’s like my mind flew into overdrive about human trafficking, rape stats, and black market organ prices. It’s amazing how fast the mind can think in a split second.” Rolling her eyes, she punched the number for the next level up. “Clearly, I’ve been watching too much 20/20 before bed.”
As if unsure about her sense of security, Coach Barnes stayed a healthy distance away. Or as far away as he could manage in the tiny space. “Long as you know I’m not here for anything nefarious.”
“Nefarious, huh?” She smiled a little, feeling less foolish now that he’d cracked a joke too. “I think I can agree to that.”
When the elevator pinged, she waited for him to get off. He must have had the same idea, because he didn’t move. They were in a silent standoff, watching each other, waiting for the first one to move.
Then the elevator doors closed.
She curled her lips in.
His lips twitched.
She blinked rapidly.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth.
She snorted.
He snickered.
Then they both laughed, giving Kristen a good peek at his dimple once more. Kristen hit the Open Door button and immediately stepped out, Clay right behind her.
“Idiots,” she said on a gasping laugh. Walking toward her car, she wasn’t surprised to find Clay beside her. “We’re both idiots.”
“I won’t argue with that.” He walked with her all the way to her car, then waited while she unlocked it.
“I’m good,” she said as the alarm chirped it had unlocked. Waving her keys, she stepped up to her car. He followed, though still not crowding her. Because there was no car parked to her left, there was space to maneuver.
“Will you be at practice tonight?”
Because she’d feel foolish going again so soon, when it was clear her son could and would drive himself, she resisted the urge and said, “No, things to do tonight.” Then her brain went on overdrive, coming up with excuses to avoid practice. Errands. No, hair appointment. Doctor’s appointment? No doctor made appointments that late in the day, dummy…
“Then will you do me a favor?”
Her mind still on baseball and excuses, she nodded absently.
“Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
“Dinner?” she squeaked, her eyes meeting his. Those sexy eyes had the crinkles again, as if he were holding back a smile. “I don’t… I mean, we shouldn’t, because—”
“Because we’re coworkers?”
She nodded.
He scoffed. “Kristen, come on. We’re adults. It’s just dinner, in a public place. I didn’t ask you to my house to roll around in the sheets and get sweaty.”
Could you though? Just, you know, for fun?
Kristen, girl, stop that.
She gave a half laugh to indicate she caught the hilarity of his joke. Then when he didn’t laugh, she wondered… And the wondering made her change her mind.
“Dinner,” she whispered, and he nodded. “Dinner, tomorrow.” Another nod. “All right.”
He leaned in then, closer still until his hip nearly brushed hers. Closer, closer…
Oh, holy hell, he was going to kiss her in the parking garage.
Then he reached around and unlatched the door, pulling it open a few inches.
Right. Her face burned with mortification. She tossed her purse in without even looking to see where it was flying off to or how much of her stuff dumped out upon landing. She’d pick it up later. All that mattered was escaping this moment of humiliation.
And then his lips brushed her cheek. “I’m trying to be an adult and hold back. But just know…it’s difficult.”
Suddenly the feeling of embarrassment melted away. And she slid into the car with a small smile and a feeling that things were definitely turning right side up.
“You need to join a support group.”
Clay toed off his sneakers at the door from his garage to his mudroom and sighed into his phone. “This isn’t a sign of mental illness: it’s just something to keep me busy.”
His cat, a slender tom he’d named Satan for his allergy to human touch and propensity to find the one thing to piss you off and go for it with gusto, ran up to give him a glaring hello, narrowly dodging any attempt at affection from Clay.
“You take a break from coaching…to coach.” His sister’s throaty laugh made him chuckle himself. “It’s a disease.”
“Okay fine, when you put it like that…but how could I say no? The kid was so earnest. And you know I like baseball.”
“Yes, yes, two-sport varsity athlete golden boy,” Amanda sang.
“That was high school. It’s nice to do something different. Change it up.”
“From throwing a ball to, wait for it ladies and gentlemen…throwing a ball.”
�
��Put Stanley on the phone. He’s the only reason I call anyway.”
“Figures,” his sister said good-naturedly. “But you can’t talk to him. He fell asleep in his spaghetti. He’s still in his high chair, actually.”
“He…seriously? You’ve got to text me a photo of that.”
“Right after we hang up. He’s pretty cute. Sauce all over his face. Thank God I remembered to take his shirt off before I let him attack dinner. He’s like a shark with a bucket of chum.”
“The kid’s a healthy eater, nothing wrong with that. How else will he grow big and strong and end up on one of my teams in twenty years?” Clay sat on the couch, picked up the remote, then thought better and tossed it on the coffee table before stretching out. Satan walked by, hopped up on the couch, and glared at Clay’s feet until he moved them enough to give the cat some space. “You happy here?”
There was a pause, and he worried for a second she was trying to figure out how to say no. Then, “Yeah, I am. I mean, I’m still finding my feet. New state, new city…new everything, you know? But with Mom and Dad gone and you being my only support—”
“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly.
“And the bestest, supportivest big brover the entire world has ever seen!” she added in a high, intentionally annoying voice.
Little sisters, even if they were thirty-four years old, were sometimes the worst.
“Speaking of support systems,” he said, carefully choosing his words, “are you seeing anyone?”
“Nope.” The answer was so firm, so automatic, he knew she wasn’t lying. “It’ll take a special sort of someone to complete this family. We’re pretty happy with being just the two of us.”
He started to nod, wondering if he should push once more on the issue of Stanley’s father. Who the guy was, why she wouldn’t tell anyone, if she was scared of the man. But she laughed, breaking his concentration.
“Oh my God. He just blew a snore-bubble in the pasta sauce. I’ve got to get him into the bath.”
“Pictures,” he reminded her again, then they hung up.
Changing Her Plans (Santa Fe Bobcats) Page 3