COACH (Boston Terriers Book 3)

by Jacob Chance

After the gym we end up at my favorite breakfast place and it’s only a couple blocks from the building we live in. It’s the very definition of a greasy spoon with food splattered menus and the glorious odor of deep frying in the air. I inhale, thoroughly, taking it all in. I love this place.

  “Mmm, smell that grease,” Nick states, wiggling his eyebrows. “I could eat here every day.”

  “Didn’t you for all four years of college?”

  “Maybe the first three.” He scratches the back of his neck. “The ‘pre-Carter’ period of my college life meant eating out a lot. Now, nothing beats a home cooked meal.”

  “This comes damn close.”

  “Hey, what are you guys doing here?” Trevor calls out as he makes his way over followed by his older brother, Brady.

  “What do people usually come here for, Trevor?” I question drolly.

  He flips me off, and silently slips into the booth next to Nick.

  “Sure, you can join us,” Nick, quips, turning his head toward Trevor.

  “Aww, thanks man.” He grins and punches Nick on the arm.

  Brady slips onto the bench beside me. “How’s it goin’?” He directs the question at no one in particular.

  “It’s goin’,” I reply with a shrug.

  “Did you know that our man here got promoted to the offensive coordinator of the Terriers?” Nick informs.

  “You’re shittin’ me?” Brady’s head snaps in my direction.

  “It’s true. Bob left and I got the position. Pretty cool, huh?”

  “That’s fucking awesome.”

  “I can’t wait to come watch practice. I already heard about the new quarterback,” Trevor interjects.

  “What about her?” I scowl, practically growling out the question.

  “That she’s a fucking smokin’ hot brunette, with a body that won’t quit. What more is there to know?”

  “Stay away from my players. I don’t need you or your boys fucking with them.” I’m feeling more than a little territorial. I’m not willing to analyze what sparked this emotion. I can’t think about her, period.

  “Me or my boys? You used to be a part of the Terriers not so long ago. Don’t act like you’re so much older than we are.”

  “I’m not so much older, just more mature.”

  “Yeah sure, if that’s what you want to call it.” Trevor smirks.

  “What would you call it? Don’t back down now.” I lean forward on the table between us.

  “Boooring,” he sings the word.

  Nick and Brady both erupt into laughter. I flick an annoyed glare in both of their directions. So much for having my back. “I’m not boring. You’re going to learn sooner than you realize that sometimes you have to be responsible even when you don’t want to.” Raking a hand through my hair, I brush it out of my eyes. “It’s called being an adult, and it’s not as much fun as it’s cracked up to be.”

  “I’m sorry for keeping you boys waiting. What can I get for you?” Doris, one of my favorite waitresses, interrupts. We all say hello and make idle chit chat while her pencil remains poised over her notepad patiently waiting for one of us to order. She jots each item down on the paper as we fill her in on what we’d like and flashes us a smile before walking off.

  “So where were we?” Nick poses the question with a mischievous smile on his face. I know this fucker is trying to stir shit up.

  “We weren’t anywhere.” I look pointedly at Trevor. “You were about to tell me how you’re gonna go out of your way to avoid the girls on my team.”

  “I was?” he questions not catching the hint I lobbed at him.

  “Yep, you were.” I nod slowly.

  “Trevor, are you that dumb or only pretending to be?” Brady inquires.

  “Fuck you, I’m not dumb.” He scowls at his older brother.

  “So you’re pretending to be?”

  “No, I simply don’t give in that easily. Zeke’s not the boss of me. He can’t tell me what I’m allowed to do.”

  “Dude you sound like a giant baby. He’s not the boss of me,” Brady mocks in a whiny voice.

  “Fuck you,” Trevor fires back with typical brotherly love.

  “Guys, I don’t want you fighting over this. Trevor, I’m not saying you can’t come to a practice at some point, but can you wait until we get a few under our belts?”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  Practice runs much like the first one did. Some cardio followed by stretching and then drills. Without a hangover to impede my mental function, I’m paying much better attention to the three new acquisitions to the team.

  Grace is a running back and she’s quick on her feet. She can juke and spin out of holds like the best of them. Leah is a wide receiver and she runs like the flash. She’s tall and her arm span is incredible. Hopefully she’ll make a huge impact on our end zone efficiency. Amelia is our new quarterback and her accuracy is impressive. We’re doing throwing drills today and she’s right on the money every time.

  I’ve researched the three new players since the last practice and their stats match up to what I’m seeing. Clapping my hands together, I step forward onto the field. “On the ball,” I bark for them to get to the line of scrimmage and prepare for the next play. “On the ball,” I repeat when they don’t move quick enough.

  The offensive line and defensive line get in place and Amelia calls out the count in a sharp, clear voice; louder than her normal tone. It’s hard for me to watch the rest of the play happen when she’s all I want to see. She hands off the ball to Grace and I have to force myself to look away and follow the progression of the play.

  “Kerry, sustain your block. You need to give Amelia time to hand the ball off. Let’s try that again.”

  The girls line up. Amelia calls out the count and the ball is snapped into her hands. She’s light on her feet, flawlessly handing off the ball to Grace who zips in and out of other players and runs down to the end zone for a touchdown. The girls all meet her as she heads toward the middle of the field for some celebrating. My eyes immediately pick Amelia out of the bunch as she steps back from hugging Grace. Her back is toward me and my mouth goes dry when I take in the sight of her gently rounded ass wrapped in tiny, black spandex shorts. She has the long sleek muscles of an athlete without losing her natural feminine curves. She’s perfect and my eyes sweep away before my body reacts to the sight of her.

  Whistling loudly, I summon the team over. “Nice one. That’s how that play should go. When everyone stays focused and hits their marks the rest will always fall into place. Anyone have any questions for me?”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” Kerry inquires and they all laugh.

  “What’s your full-time job?” Another one calls out.

  I smile and shake my head. “I should’ve phrased my words better. Do any of you have a football related question about anything we practiced today?”

  A chorus of no echoes around me. The deep clap of my hands meeting signals we’re finished. “Okay, that’s a wrap. See you guys Thursday. Same time, no pads.”

  The girls mill about drinking water and collecting their things from the benches.

  “Looking good, Zeke. With it only being the second practice, they’re doing well,” Mark stops beside me.

  “Thanks, man. I’m happy with how today went. The new acquisitions are great. Grace’s speed is impressive.”

  “Amelia’s arm is something else.”

  “Yeah.” Her ass is something else too. “I’ll see you Thursday night. I told them no pads, so if you have a different plan let me know.”

  “We’re all good. No pads it is. See you then.” He walks a few steps before turning back to me. “Zeke, you’re a young, good looking guy.”

  “Thanks, Mark. I didn’t realize you’d noticed.”

  He shakes his head. “Do you mind? I’m being serious here.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

  “I remember what it was like to be young and have attention from the girls. Jus
t be sure you keep your dick in your pants. You can’t get caught playing favorites.”

  “Don’t mention it again, Mark. It’s not a concern. I can separate work and play. My two worlds won’t cross.”

  Mark pats me on the back. “I figured as much, but I wanted to make sure. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  “You too.” Bending down, I pick up a few left behind empty water bottles and throw them in the trash. Who says girls are neater than guys? Retracing my steps back to the bench, I notice Amelia still sitting there. Her eyes are closed as she rubs at a spot on the back of her shoulder. Judging by the grimace on her face, I can tell it’s bothering her.

  “What’s wrong with your shoulder?” I question as I approach.

  Her eyes snap open at my voice and she shakes her head. “Nothing.” Her hand lowers to her lap.

  “Nothing?”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  I smile. “I agree it looks fine, but judging by the pained expression on your face, I can tell it’s bothering you.” I don’t wait for her to answer before moving around to stand behind her. “Show me where it hurts.”

  Reluctantly, her hand raises and she points to a spot right on the back of her shoulder. Placing my hand on her bare skin, I press inward with the pad of my thumb. “Here?”

  She gasps and nods.

  Sliding my hand down another two inches, I push on another area. “What about here?”

  “Yes, there too.”

  “Okay, I can help you out. Sit tight. This might hurt a little, but I promise you it will be better later.”

  She places her hands on either side of her legs on the metal bench. “Go for it.”

  Lying my hands on the top of her shoulder I begin to work out the knots under her skin. One hand focuses on the very top of her shoulder and the other works outward, all the way down to the top of her arm.

  She groans, her head falling forward, chin to chest. Persistently working on a knot I detect behind her shoulder blade, both hands are splayed over her soft skin. She’s wearing a sports bra, exposing more of her body than it’s covering and I have to remind myself she’s one of my players. The small groans and sighs she keeps letting out have my dick at half-mast.

  “Oh my God,” she calls out when I dig a little deeper, hands rubbing up and down the right side of her back. “Don’t stop,” she moans. “Don’t ever stop.”

  Fuck. I know her words are meant innocently, but my dick sure as hell doesn’t know that. He’s ready to go, practically poking a hole in my basketball shorts in his eagerness to get closer to her.

  “You need to ice this area when you get home and pop a few Ibuprofen. Later tonight, take a long, hot shower.” I almost groan out loud at the vision my mind conjures up of her naked and soapy in the steam. “Continue the Ibuprofen tomorrow, if it’s still bothering you. Alternate ice and heat as needed.” Patting her on the shoulder, I take a step back. “You should be good to go.”

  She cranes her head over her shoulder and gives me a small smile. “Thanks, Coach.”

  “Don't mention it.” Backing away, I berate myself for putting my hands on her. Why didn’t I refer her to Hannah, the team trainer? She’s on staff specifically for this purpose. I can’t let my attraction to Amelia make me act unprofessional. Get a grip Zeke.

  Chapter Five

  Amelia

  I quickly gather my things and rise to my feet. “See you Thursday.” My voice somehow comes out steady and I have no idea how that’s possible. Having his hands on me shook me - in a good way. I practically came just from some shoulder rubbing. I’m pathetic. I can’t be around him any longer. I’m either going to jump on him, or crawl out of my skin. And since I can’t do either, I jog off toward the locker room entrance.

  “Be on time, Amelia,” Coach calls out a reminder as I’m almost to the door. I’m tempted to flash him my middle finger, but he is my coach and I’m not in the habit of pissing off authority figures. I’ve always been a rule follower. What is it about him that rubs me the wrong way? Although those large, strong hands of his, they sure rubbed me the right way. I’d like to experience what those hands could do to my… dammit. Stop thinking about his hands.

  Gripping the handle, I slip inside the building and breathe a sigh of relief once the door closes behind me. Now that there’s some distance between us, the restlessness Coach’s touch brought about is beginning to dissipate. I need to figure out a way to get over this attraction I have for him. The contract I signed spells it out in black and white - no fraternization between the staff and players - no exceptions. I’m no different than any other player to them.

  The opportunity to be the quarterback for the Terriers is a dream come true and I won’t risk it for anything - not even six feet five inches of fuck me hard.

  “Do you have any other waitressing experience aside from what’s included on here?” Kip, the owner of Goliath’s, looks up from reading my resume.

  I press my palms together in my lap and bounce my knee enough to make the chair I’m sitting in rattle. “No, but I’m a hard worker.”

  He smirks. “In all the years I’ve owned this place, I’ve yet to have someone admit to me they’re not.”

  Great answer, Amelia. Way to make an impression.

  Rolling my lips inward, I nod. What I want to be doing is begging him to give me this job. I need the money. My parents don’t have the funds to spare and I want to be able to get an apartment for Senior year.

  “You’re the new quarterback for the Terriers?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiles. “When can you start?”

  What? “You’re hiring me?”

  “I am. How soon can you get started?”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  “Great. I’m going to grab your uniform. Fill out these papers and bring them with you. Your shift will be from seven to one. Be prepared to stay later to help clean and close up.”

  I nod, still surprised at his rapid attitude change. Did it have something to do with me being the QB? But why should that matter? Women’s football at the college level is still fairly new, but maybe it’s a bigger deal here in Boston than I imagined.

  “Here you go,” Kip hands me two folded black t-shirts. I place them in my lap, on top of the paperwork that must be completed.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night, and don’t forget to bring back those tax forms. Do you have any questions?”

  “Where do employees park?”

  “The farthest row in the back of the lot.”

  “What about dress code? Jeans? Black pants? What do you require?”

  “Since it’s summer, shorts are recommended. It can get hot when you’re waiting on tables. If you want to wear jeans that works too. It’s up to you.”

  “Okay. Thank you for the opportunity. You won’t be sorry.”

  His eyes scour my frame. “I’m counting on it.”

  Rising, I sling my purse strap over my shoulder and hug the pile of shirts and papers to my chest like a shield before I scurry out of his office. Great. Just what I need. A boss who seems creepy as fuck. Oh well, it can’t be helped. I need this job and Goliath’s is a popular bar. Tips should be decent and that will make any ogling I have to deal with worth it.

  Glancing in the mirror one last time, I cringe when I notice how deep the V neckline on my tight, black Goliath’s t-shirt goes. I should’ve figured this would be the case after meeting Kip, but with all the unpacking and getting settled in, I never tried it on until now. The giant beer mug on the front is a real classy touch. Get over yourself. I’m not working at some upscale restaurant, it’s a college dive bar.

  My fingers pluck at the bottom edge of the shirt, trying to tug it down over the two inches of my bared stomach, but it’s no use. Maybe Kip shrinks these before he hands them out. Or maybe he orders them in kid sizes. It’s like I tried to squeeze into my favorite t-shirt from sixth grade.

  Watching in the mirror, I raise my arms over my head and notice how the hem climbs to mid bel
ly.

  Great. Just fucking great.

  Sighing with frustration, I slip on my black Chucks, grab my keys and shove my phone in one of the back pockets on my cutoffs. At the last minute I remember the papers I filled out and snatch the envelope from my desk. I leave my dorm room, waving to various acquaintances I’ve made as I walk down the long hall. Passing by Grace and Leah’s rooms, I notice their doors are closed. Most of the residents in this building tend to leave their doors open and mill from one room to another. I don’t know if I’m up for that, but maybe as I get to know more people I’ll be more comfortable.

  Exiting out the main entrance, I head left. Goliath’s is just a short walk, only two blocks and it’s early enough that the sidewalks aren’t jammed up with people. Making it in no time, I head back to Kip’s office and pause in front of it. Closing my eyes, I give myself a mini pep talk before I find the nerve to knock. Hurry up and get this over with. It will only take a minute and then you can get away from Kip.

  “Come in.”

  Here goes nothing. Pushing the door open, I step inside. “Hi. Here’s the paperwork you need.” Kip’s gaze immediately roams down my body and back up like fingers playing scales on a piano as I walk forward to place the envelope on his desk. It’s all I can do not to shiver with revulsion. It’s not that Kip is a bad looking guy, he’s actually handsome. But being around him gives me a massive sense of unease.

  “Hey.” He looks me over, eyes settling on my boobs. “That shirt looks great on you. You’re gonna make great tips.” He winks.

  Wow. Insinuating my tits will earn me more money must be his version of a compliment.

  “I hope so.” At least humiliating myself could possibly pay off.

  He rises to his feet and moves around the desk separating us. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Owen, one of the bar managers.”

  Turning around, I start for the door, Kip’s large, hot hand pressing in the middle of my back. I’m tempted to shrug it off, but that would be rude - and it’s my first day here. No need to piss the owner off right away. There’s plenty of time for that later. I try not to think about where his eyes might be staring as he directs me out to the bar area.