Bad Traveler

by Lola Karns

  He waited until she regained some semblance of composure. “How is he?”

  “The doctors are cautiously hopeful. He is stabilized, but they will run more tests in the morning.” Tears welled in her eyes. “He might need bypass surgery. I don’t want to lose him.” She doubled over, and her body heaved from the effort of sobbing.

  Gwen slipped on the other side of Nancy, offering a hug. Rich was nowhere to be seen. This was about Coach, not Rich’s discomfort with Nancy. After a while, one of the nurses emerged from the set of double doors and let Nancy know her husband was awake.

  Rich reappeared as soon as Nancy left. Kyle gripped his fingers into a fist as Rich ogled Gwen. He was slimy when it came to women. Although married, Rich had a fondness for college coeds willing to flash the camera in a drunken stupor. He had an extensive video collection he showed off at every opportunity.

  “I doubt this was how you wanted your hot date to go, hey, Kyle? You two can scoot off and get back to business so to speak. I’ll wait. The old ball and chain is driving me nuts these days.”

  If anyone deserved a shut up smack, it was Rich. He suspected Coach Meyer kept him around because of his success conditioning the athletes in the weight room. It couldn’t be his charming demeanor or ethics.

  “Thanks for your concern.” He met Gwen’s gaze, hoping she picked up on his sarcasm, even if Rich didn’t. “Sometimes though, duty calls.”

  “We’ll stay.” Her arms wrapped around his waist in a message of support stronger than words.

  The twitch in Rich’s mouth brought a chuckle to his throat, but he wouldn’t risk losing the stare down. Rich muttered something about coffee and slinked off. He guided her to one of the couches.

  “I appreciate your support, and you were wonderful helping Nancy, but you don’t need to stay. Hospital’s aren’t fun.” A little voice inside his head told him to tell her why he disliked hospitals. Not now. He didn’t want to have the conversation where Rich might overhear and add his commentary or where Nancy might interrupt with good or bad news about Coach’s situation.

  “I will need to get back home sometime, but no one has called yet saying Chloe needs me.” She wrapped her hand around his and moved both to his bouncing leg with enough pressure to remind himself to stop. “I’m here for you.”

  A world of hope shone in her eyes. Her presence gave him all he needed. As the clock ticked past nine, she started to yawn. “Sorry. Baker’s hours.”

  He lifted his head from her shoulder and rummaged in his pockets for his keys. “Go home, gorgeous.” The harsh hospital lighting and trying circumstances hadn’t diminished her beauty. “Take my Jeep. I’ll pick it up tomorrow as soon as I have a chance.”

  “But what about Coach Meyer?”

  “I’ll keep you updated. You’ve been amazing. Not every woman would sit in a waiting room with a guy for hours while he waited for word on his boss’s health. I’m a lucky man. Now, go home. You need your sleep, and tomorrow morning I’ll need coffee and something to eat, so the Sweet Spot better be open.” He pushed the keys into her hand and walked her to the car. With a quick kiss on the forehead, he let her go. “Good night, for now.”

  The plastic chairs of the waiting room offered no comfort. Someday. Someday soon, the time will be right.

  Chapter Ten

  By eight, the crowd at the Sweet Spot kept her racing back and forth between the coffeemaker, the kitchen, and the cash register. After so many weeks of slow business, the large crowd gathered in her store overwhelmed her. The collective din drowned out the ambient music for the first time since opening. Even her parents pitched in. Mom served brewed coffee, and Dad worked the cash register, promising to stay until he needed to leave to teach his ten o’clock class.

  It was fair they helped. She held them responsible for part of this large crowd. The rest of the blame fell on her shoulders. Her mother shared the news about Coach Meyer with Dad. They called a few fellow basketball fans, who told few more people and so on. As a result, the Sweet Spot filled with people waiting for Kyle to get breakfast and give an update on Coach’s condition.

  Gwen poured his mug of coffee as soon as she spied his approach to the door. He looked haggard yet sexy. Her mind flashed to lazy weekend mornings, of him with his rumpled hair and day-old stubble, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. Or less. Meeting his gaze, she offered what she hoped was an apologetic smile and a shoulder shrug as he wove through the crowd shouting out, “What’s the news?” “How’s the leg?” and “How’s Coach Meyer?”

  He accepted his mug at the front counter. The hot liquid seemed to pour life back into his body, improving his pale pallor. She interpreted his glance at the display case as a blueberry-muffin order. He winked as she slid the plate across the counter.

  “It’s on the house. Sorry about this crowd.” There were better ways to repay him, but they’d wait until later, without an audience.

  After another sip of coffee, he turned to the crowd, legs akimbo, chest puffed in a way that commanded attention. “This is strictly off the record. There will be a press conference today at noon releasing more information and offering a chance for questions. I suspect you have all heard about Coach Meyer’s recent hospitalization. I spoke with him earlier today. He was as coherent and cranky as usual.”

  A few people chuckled, including Dad. He waited for the tittering to die down. “He hopes to be released from the hospital shortly. Thank you,” he continued in a loud but firm voice.

  Questions erupted from the clamoring crowd. “Will he be back for the game Wednesday?” “Can he still coach?” “What is wrong with him?” “Is he accepting visitors?”

  He gave Gwen a quick look of exasperation. She needed to save him. He waved his hands over his head. “People, people, please. I know you are all concerned for Coach Meyer and his family as well as the future of the team, but all of those items will be addressed at today’s press conference. You may e-mail or call the athletic department with specific questions, but they will have nothing to say until after the press conference and neither do I. Thank you for your understanding and support.”

  He faced her once again. The mutterings and glares made her twitchy, but he didn’t seem to notice the crowd at all. “You need to relax.”

  “I’m trying. You’re not mad all these people came to bother you? How can you be so calm?”

  “No one’s life is at stake. They want information and, given the wiped out case, they ate, too. That’s good for your business, right?”

  “Yes. You always know the right thing to say.” She reached across the counter and touched his arm. Winter clothes annoyed her—too many layers got in the way. He didn’t respond with words, but she understood why.

  Blue-black circles hung below his green eyes. He needed sleep, but the spark in his gaze indicated excitement.

  “I drove your Jeep here this morning and parked it behind the kitchen. Why don’t you come back here while I get the keys? I can wrap your breakfast to go, or you can eat at one of the counters in the back, away from the inquiring minds out there.” She nodded her head toward the full seating area.

  His lips softened, smiling. “Thank you.”

  As he moved to her side of the counter, he paused by the play area to tickle Chloe. In return, she chuckled, laughter rippling through her entire body. Gwen loved that sound, and Kyle always seemed to produce a giggle.

  “I thought that onesie would look cute on Chloe. I was right.”

  “Yes, you were. Thank you again for it. For everything.” She thought about kissing him, but with the eyes of the world on them, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be dragged into the same level of scrutiny he faced. “I’m so sorry about the crowd. I told my mom why I had your car, and she weaseled Coach Meyer’s hospitalization out of me. She told Dad and, well, you see the result.”

  “I wasn’t expecting such a crowd.” He put his coffee cup down and ran his fingers through his hair. “Maybe you’ll get some repeat customers.”


  “That would be a nice benefit, but I never intended for this to happen. If I had realized how they were going to ambush you, I would have never…. At least you can escape through the back door. Is there anything I can do?”

  Collapsed on the stool, he cupped his face in his hands. “Can I tell you something in the strictest of confidences? No telling anyone, especially not your parents?” He sounded tired, and a little nervous.

  Crouched beside him, she pulled his hands from his face and pressed her forehead against his. “Whatever it is, it goes no further than this.”

  Had she ever held his hands in college? Would it have mattered then? His hands enveloped hers, warming her entire body. Those hands would be welcomed, cupping her derriere, sliding along her hips, caressing her breasts, or playing with her hair. This was okay, but not for too much longer.

  “The doctors asked Coach Meyer to take it easy for the next few weeks, as a condition of release. He’s on medical leave.”

  She nodded, thinking of Nancy and her personal turmoil at the news.

  “At the press conference today, I’m being named as the interim head coach.”

  She broke into a wide grin, threw her arms around him, and kissed his closed lips. If anyone saw, who cared? “For real? Congratulations.”

  He gently pushed her away, his mouth a tense line. “It’s too much. I don’t know why he picked me. The other assistants all have more experience than me. I’m not ready to do this. Plus, I have recruitment trips, and we have a road game Wednesday night and that huge conference game on Saturday. I’m overwhelmed, and I haven’t even started yet.”

  She leaned against him and rested her forehead on his once again. “From everything you have told me about him, Coach Meyer chose you because he believes in you and trusts you. I do, too. If you get us tickets, Chloe and I will be there Saturday to cheer you on. If not, I’ll listen to the radio.” Her voice shifted from seductive to business. “Now, go home and get some sleep before your press conference. You’re a mess.”

  She packed a to-go bag for Kyle, tossed in extra oatmeal cookies, and led him toward the back door. “On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t get some rest. You look so handsome in your suit, you’ll have all kinds of women flinging themselves at you unless you took totally bedraggled.”

  “Hmmm…. They would be wasting their time. Can we do dinner on Thursday?”

  “Yes, but do I have to wait that long?”

  His lips brushed against hers. “I’ll come here in the mornings, but unfortunately, I have a lot of meetings the next few days as I try to get all of this sorted out.”

  At least she trusted his assertion that this was work related. He had no reason to lie.

  ***

  Gwen couldn’t believe the difference one day made in the life of her bakery. Tuesday lacked the large crowd occupying all the chairs and every inch of floor space, but she was busy. A steady stream of customers graced her door, many of whom mentioned how delicious the food was the day before or that a friend told them they “totally had to try that new bakery.” She anticipated hiring one or two part-timers if business kept up over the course of the next two weeks.

  When Kyle came in around eight, he sauntered across the floor, posture and eyes alert. After a glance around the room, “I guess you’re secret is out,” he stage-whispered.

  “I suspect most of them are here because of you.”

  “Yesterday, they came for the news; today they are here for scones or muffins or cookies. I have a favor to ask.”

  Her answer would be yes, no matter what he asked.

  “Tomorrow, I want to have our coaches meeting over breakfast. Could you hold a table for six of us at say, eight thirty? I’ll also need a tray of assorted baked goods and coffee.”

  She hoped his request would be more personal, but this was okay, too. “I’d be happy to do so. Any requests?”

  “I’d say you, but I don’t want to share.”

  “Kyle!” She pushed him away in mock indignation, even though his teasing proved his interest remained. “How about banana-nut muffins, and maybe I’ll even make a coffee cake?”

  “Yum. See you tomorrow.” He kissed her forehead and left. A few customers elbowed each other and eyed her with curiosity.

  Those who returned Wednesday morning hoping for gossip on Coach Meyer or the Interim Coach Collins were disappointed, but most drowned their sorrows in food. As she bussed dirty plates from the table, he touched her leg near the knee. When she turned to look at him, he winked. She liked this transition from nervous tension around each other to playful promise. Her touch didn’t offend him at all, and he even initiated kisses, chaste ones, but still.

  Their date on Thursday, if all went according to plan, would further transition their physical relationship. Her sister had offered to open the bakery on Friday morning, so she stocked lots of “overnight” coffee cakes that needed to be thrown into the oven in the morning. Keira lacked her culinary skills, but even she could use a toothpick to test for doneness. After all these years, wasted by inaction, missed opportunities, and unspoken words, they deserved happiness.

  After watching Wednesday night’s miserable away game on the local university television channel with her parents, she committed herself to making Thursday night special for him. In the few images they showed of the coach, he prowled the Ravens sidelines. He never lost his temper or yelled at the boys, but his footfalls grew more frantic. By the end of the game, his hair spiked in the front where he’d run his fingers through it. The fouls stacked up against his team. Kyle’s first game as the acting head coach went down as a loss.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kyle didn’t mind Wednesday’s loss as much as he did the intrusion of people into his life offering condolences, advice, and outright hostility everywhere he went the following day. Some speculated the loss doomed the Ravens to fail Saturday against their bitter rivals.

  Wednesday, distractions had undermined the players’ confidence. Following his halftime pep talk, the team had improved, but not enough to overcome their first-half deficit. Saturday would be different. The hoopla over the coaching change would be a memory. With a home crowd behind them and new unity the team found in rallying for a cause, so to speak, he expected a win.

  His enthusiasm for his new job surpassed his own expectations. Even before being named interim head coach, he’d recognized his true career path. Experiencing the full level of work that went into the top job made him realize how much he wanted it. He was good, too. The kids respected him, and he knew how to guide them. Coaching was stressful at times, but he’d kept his cool in worse situations. No one’s life was on the line here. If the rest of the season went well, he might get a Division III offer.

  Yet, his joy was bittersweet. He couldn’t ask Gwen to leave the life she’d created in Corwin for his own selfish reasons. With his hectic schedule, finding time together was an issue, but he wanted the opportunity to see what they could have together. Her flirtatious comebacks and glances suggested her willingness to explore. Approaching her front door Thursday night, he imagined walking home to her and Chloe in a house they shared. Tension melted from his shoulders. She was his oasis. He knocked.

  Charlotte invited him inside to warm up while Gwen settled Chloe in bed. He glanced around the room for her husband and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t see the man. Dr. Jones, the basketball fanatic, would have words for him. Tonight was a night off, or as close to one as he was likely to get for a while. There would be no basketballthis evening, only him and Gwen.

  The stairs creaked, and Gwen descended, hips undulating with each step. He remembered her dancing on the counter, sexier than any woman he’d seen.

  “Hi. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “You didn’t.”

  He helped her into her coat, although covering her curve-hugging, blue scoop-neck sweater was a shame. When she kissed his cheek, his groin tightened in response.

  “’Bye, Mom,” she shouted as they headed
out the door. “Could we go somewhere in town tonight? Chloe’s been a little fussy today, so I want to stay close.”

  “Sure. I guess. We might run into people.”

  “So?” Concern soon replaced the previous joy on her face. “Unless you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

  “Not at all. Just be forewarned. Since getting the interim title, some people like to offer me unsolicited advice. I had to do a radio interview this afternoon.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Fine.” Sort of. The interviewer had asked about his military service, but he deflected the question by saying he’d been requested for a basketball not personal interview.

  “I’m so glad Dad teaches a late class tonight.”

  He laughed, knowing she was right. But if he had to suffer advice from Professor Jones to spend time with his daughter, then so be it.

  “Is Chloe okay? Do you need to stay home? We could order in.”

  “I’m worried she’s getting a cold. It’s probably nothing. Mom, who would bar the door if I came home now, said I’m overreacting, but I’d hate for something to happen and not be there to comfort her.”

  He took her hand and helped her in the car. They parked behind her shop and went to the Crow’s Nest, one of the few restaurants in town offering a menu a half star above the standard college choices of burgers or greasy pizza. Like everywhere else in town, they made the real money on alcohol. Drink menus, TVs, and beer signs hung everywhere. He requested one of dark-paneled, two-person booths in the back, hoping for a bit of privacy, but he endured several comments from basketball fans as they walked to their table.

  “You’re a celebrity,” she said.

  “The attention will fade.” It better. He hated this part of the game, the foolish media circus in a desperate attempt to fill a twenty-four-hour news cycle and how every kid wanted to make the highlight reel rather than develop team fundamentals. He didn’t want a moment of glory, no matter how much some thought he should have one.