Pete Sebastian, Coach

by Jean C. Joachim

  “Oh my God! Don’t think twice, Jo. For Christ’s sake, you only asked for a lift, not my first born child. And walking would have been dangerous. What if that asshole Nelson had circled around and come back for you?”

  She shuddered at the idea.

  “I wasn’t doing anything anyway. No problem.”

  “Thank you.” She was grateful for his response, but a bit worried about what would happen when she arrived home. Will I get the same routine from Pete that I got from Nelson? I hope not.

  The ride was quiet. Pete Sebastian looked comfortable behind the wheel of his SLK Class, silver Mercedes. She snuggled into the leather seat and looked out the window. The light had faded, and the road wasn’t familiar. She tightened her grip on the armrest. What if he’s not taking me home? Her heart rate kicked up, and her palms got sweaty. A glance at him with only one hand on the wheel didn’t give her any indication of what he had planned.

  “You’re in the Mountain View complex?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes. Number 246. It’s on the right.”

  He chuckled. “I love Monroe. They call this a complex with only twenty houses on the lot.”

  “It is small. But that’s one thing I like about it.”

  “With your credentials, you could have gone anywhere. Why here?”

  “I love small towns.”

  He laughed. “You sure got the small town part right.”

  Lights from other townhouses appeared within five minutes. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding when she saw Mountain View.

  Pete pulled up to the curb and cut the motor. “Here you go.” He got out of the car. Jo’s pulse doubled again. He came to her side and opened the door, offering his hand to help her out. It was warm, dry, and a little rough, but oddly soothing. “That door’s got so many gadgets, no one can find the place to open it,” he explained.

  “Thank you.” She smiled up at him.

  He accompanied her to the square of cement walk right before her door then stopped. He raised his hand in a wave. “Have a good night. Sorry Nelson was such a jerk.”

  “Thanks, Pete. I appreciate your bailing me out.”

  “Any time, Jo.” Then, he turned and headed back to his vehicle.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe not all of Coach Bass’s old-school ways were bad. Finding a gentleman was more than she had expected.

  Jo twisted her key in the lock of the townhouse she owned. A bark from her pug, Daisy, put a smile on her face. Jo had no siblings, but rented the larger space in anticipation of visits from her old sorority sisters. At thirty two, she still kept in touch with a few of the girls from Pi Alpha Phi.

  She stepped into her tiny foyer, where her petite canine mugged her leg. Daisy jumped until Jo bent down and let the little dog lick her face. She snapped on the living room lights and smiled. Partial to pretty prints and flourishes, Jo had furnished the main room with two cushiony, comfortable loveseats in delicate flower patterns in pink, summer green, and white, ruffled on the bottom, which faced each other in front of a small fireplace. The cocktail table was old, rough-hewn oak with a smooth finish on the top. The country flavor was seasoned with a strongly feminine touch.

  Gauzy, full length, white drapes covered the sliding glass doors that led to a deck. The floors were pickled white. The cozy, inviting feel to the room welcomed Jo every time she entered. She’d spent considerable time having her new place renovated before she had moved up from St. Louis. She’d always dreamed of owning her own home, and though it wasn’t large, it was hers, and she adored it.

  The dinner with Nelson Barker had lasted longer than she had wanted. It was dark. Jo snapped the harness on Daisy, and the two went for a walk. A bath. Definitely a bath. Jo couldn’t wait to wash away the grubby feeling she had from fending off Nelson’s advances.

  After giving Daisy a treat, Jo slipped upstairs to her bedroom. She had had the bathroom enlarged, sacrificing an extra closet to the cause. The room had black and white tile on the floor and a lovely toile print in soft blue and white on the walls. She ran a bubble bath in the large claw foot tub she’d unearthed at an auction. She did some of her best thinking soaking in hot water, and this room was designed for leisure.

  There was even a small dog bed. Daisy trotted up the stairs and curled in a ball while Jo soaked and scrubbed. She couldn’t figure out Coach Bass. There was chemistry, then he scared her, then he came to her rescue. Which man was the real Pete Sebastian? I’ve never met a man I couldn’t figure out. Gotta get his M.O. I’ll have him nailed down in no time. Maybe he’s just a good guy with a bad temper? She shook her head.

  Life had taught her that there were no good guys. That’s why she was single. Prince Charming is a fairytale. He doesn’t exist. And that means Pete Sebastian too. Keep depending on yourself. You’ve never let you down yet.

  She slipped naked between the sheets. A breeze from the bedroom window cooled the room. Daisy hopped up and lay at the bottom of the bed, circling several times before finding just the right position to get comfortable. Jo loved that. It always made her chuckle.

  She stared at the moon. Her body was tired, but her mind was alert. Pete Sebastian intrigued her, and the challenge of the job scared her a little. I can do it. If I work hard enough, I can. I’ve been successful before, and I will be here. An even bigger success. I’ll be nationally known. Put the Kings on the map as the most advanced team in the league.

  She snuggled down under her fleece blanket. Soothed by the even snoring of her petite pug, she was soon asleep.

  * * * *

  Pete pulled into the driveway of his beach house on the Connecticut shore. After stowing his car safely in the garage, he went inside. The silence was deafening. Since his twin daughters, Alyssa and Alexis, had gone off to Kensington State University, his home was too quiet for his taste.

  He flipped on an easy listening station to have some noise in the background. During the season, the peace was soothing, because his days were filled with noise, people, and football. But off-season, he took a break for a few weeks and rolled around like the lone pea in a pod.

  Kicking off his shoes, he glanced at the clock on his way to the kitchen for a beer. Only ten. Nine in Illinois. Bill will be up. He popped the top on the bottle, grabbed his cell, and settled on his sectional sofa, facing the huge picture windows with a view of the sea. At this hour, a big, round, full moon bounced its light off the ocean. He dialed his brother.

  Bill Sebastian coached wrestling and baseball at a local college. They traded notes on their successes, failures, and challenges. Even though they lived so far apart, they remained close and spoke on the phone often during off-season.

  “Hey, Pete. How are ya?”

  “Good. What’s new?” Pete raised the drink to his mouth.

  “Fine. You’re not calling to tell me you’re engaged, by any chance?”

  Pete laughed. “Nope.”

  “Anyone in the red zone?”

  “Not even at the fifty, I’m sorry to report.”

  “Damn! Haven’t you been on your own long enough?”

  “Gimme a break. This is only the second year the girls have been gone.”

  “I’m ready to give up. You’ve dated every available woman in Monroe.”

  “Not every one. Just the good looking ones.” Pete snickered.

  “Branch out. Try another town.”

  “Don’t worry about me. How’s everyone doing?”

  “Sam got a new job, and Sandy thinks she’s about to get engaged.”

  “Christ! My niece’ll make it to the altar before I do!” Pete chuckled. “Great news. How’s Meg?”

  “She’s still thinking about what she wants to do.”

  “Find a better husband, maybe?”

  “There isn’t a better husband,” Bill snickered. “You’d better get going before you’re gonna have to start looking for a wife in the nursing home.”

  Pete laughed. His big brother was always pushing him to s
ettle down. Lately, he’d begun to hit a nerve, as loneliness became more apparent to Pete. He was ready to give up his crown as king of the bachelors in Monroe. After years of dating, and sleeping with, plenty of women, Pete Sebastian was tired of the routine. And frustrated he couldn’t find the right one.

  On the top of his list was someone who could listen to his problems, which were never-ending on season, and understand. Instead, he’d get responses like, “Oh, that football stuff. I just don’t understand it,” or “It’s just a game. What are you so worried for?”

  Hah! It wasn’t just a game to Pete. Football was his life, his livelihood, the thing that got him out of bed every morning. He loved the game, loved his team, and even loved Lyle Barker, though the man could be difficult. Pete Sebastian and football were synonymous. Why couldn’t a woman understand that? He shook his head.

  As soon as he heard those words, he’d head for the door. More than once, it got back to him that the woman he’d left had no clue why he had disappeared. To him, that said it all. Bill accused him of being picky. Hell, yeah, he was picky. Picky about his team and picky about his women. Smart, sexy, pretty—he was willing to draw the line at beautiful—knew something about football and cared about it. Then, there was good sense of humor, warm, crazy about him, and good with kids—not necessarily in that order. Good in bed didn’t hurt either.

  When he rolled these requirements out to well-meaning friends who thought they knew someone who would be perfect for Pete, they’d sigh and change their minds. Nope, Miss Perfect was still among the missing. Pete figured he was too young to lower his standards. Maybe when he was fifty, he’d have to rethink his priorities. But for now, they stood, hard and fast.

  Pete hung up and wandered through his spacious home. Maybe I should get a dog? Pugs seem to be the team breed. He chuckled to himself when he thought of Griff with his beloved Spike, or Buddy and Blitz. Then, his thoughts turned to Jo Parker.

  Anger burned in his chest when he thought about that punk, Nelson, molesting her. Well, at least I don’t have to worry about her going out with that asshole again. He chuckled. Guy threw himself under the bus. He wondered about her. She had appeared nervous in his car, hugging the door and not keeping eye contact with him.

  Could my stupid temper have scared her that much that she’s afraid to be alone with me? Or is she just scared of men? Did Nelson attack her? Probably. He’s an idiot. She did call me. He smiled. But she was almost scared when I walked her to the door. What was she expecting? Did she think I was going to jump her? That’s ridiculous. What’s happened to her?

  She intrigued him. As he drank his beer, he wondered what her house looked like. He imagined a modern, sterile place with stiff, attractive sofas purchased for show rather than comfort. Images of lots of cold chrome and black and white filled his mind. He shivered at the thought. That would be a deal breaker. Then, he laughed. I don’t have a deal. Not even in the running!

  Reviewing game films and meeting with his staff occupied Pete for most of the week. But Jo Parker’s presence simmered inside him. Brushing by her in the hall, a quick nod and smile as he passed her office, kept a heightened awareness of her in his blood.

  Pete tried to throw it off, but Jo Parker had been bugging him for days. She was such perfection that he was curious to see where the cracks were. Nobody is that buttoned up. Every day, she’d show up in another colorful outfit, hugging her sumptuous body, teasing him. And he’d notice every curve, every hill and valley, his appetite for her growing.

  Still, he kept his distance. Pete was a professional too and not about to start a ruckus because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. There had been enough of those kinds of incidents involving the team. No way was he about to make the same mistake.

  He watched Friday Night Lights for the twentieth time then undressed and slipped into bed. He loved the beach second only to the gridiron. The melody of crashing waves carried in through the open window. The rhythm acted like a lullaby, putting him to sleep. He passed a restless night, bothered by dreams Jo Parker dating an endless crew of faceless men, but not him.

  * * * *

  On Monday morning, Pete’s copy of Jo’s proposal to Lyle Barker about the anger management program arrived in his email. It was well written and only one page. Short. That’s good. Lyle’s attention span for anything but banging Tiffany is very short. He chuckled.

  Jo popped her head in. “Laughing at my proposal?” She frowned.

  “Not at all.” He waved her inside.

  She sat across from him. In a short sleeved ivory top and dark rose-colored skirt, she looked beautiful. Pete gazed for a moment at her perfect skin, silently admiring her glow. Large, Caribbean blue eyes clouded with doubt stared back at him.

  “I was just thinking how perfect it was.”

  “I saw you laughing. Don’t pretend.”

  “I was thinking how wise of you to keep it to one page. Lyle’s ability to concentrate on any anything more than Tiffany’s bra size is limited.” He laughed again.

  Jo joined him. “I gathered he likes things succinct.”

  “That’s giving him the benefit of the doubt. If it’s more than one page, he won’t read it. He’ll throw it back at you with the order to summarize it.”

  “Oh? Really? Thanks for the tip.”

  “Lyle’s not hard to deal with once you get to know him and his priorities.”

  “And those are?”

  “Winning games, raking in money, and his wife. Not necessarily in that order.”

  She nodded. “What are your priorities?”

  He sat back and joined the fingertips of one hand to his other. He brought his gaze up to meet hers. Getting to know who you are. “Winning games. Keeping the players happy. Whatever it takes to accomplish those two goals.”

  “Makes sense. You make it sound simple, but it’s anything but. How many times do you have to come up with new plays? In St. Louis, they struggled with that all the time. Only so many things you can do.”

  Pete straightened in his chair. Right you are, lady. “Yep.”

  The buzzer from his intercom sounded. It was Lyle, so Pete flicked it on.

  “Is Jo with you?”

  “She is.”

  “Can the two of you come into my office? Let’s talk about this anger thing.”

  “Be right there.” Pete clicked it off.

  Jo stood up and smoothed down the wrinkles in her skirt.

  Pete ran his gaze over her hips as quickly as possible, so as not to be detected. But when he looked up, she was staring right at him. He felt a blush starting. Caught me checking her out. Damn! He stepped aside. “Ladies first.”

  “Are you doing that so you can check out my butt next?” He noticed a mischievous glint in her eye.

  “Hadn’t thought of that. But, now that you mention it, good idea.” She burst into laughter that echoed down the hall.

  Edie was waiting and opened the door for them. “What’s so funny?”

  Pete and Jo exchanged a look and walked quickly into Lyle’s office. The room was immense. There was a sectional sofa overlooking the field and a desk big enough for three. He motioned for them to join him on the couch. Edie brought in a pitcher of water and glasses, along with Lyle’s favorite, chocolate lace cookies. He picked up one then sat down.

  “I read your proposal, Jo. Very interesting. Well thought out. Well written…”

  There was a pause.

  “But?” she interjected.

  “But I’ve had six members of the team in my office howling about this thing already. They’re pissed and have refused to play along.”

  “But the fine.”

  “Screw the fine. They’ll fight me all the way on that too.”

  Pete sat back and listened. Two spots of red appeared on Jo’s cheeks. She shot him an angry look.

  “Hey, it wasn’t me.”

  “Who were the players?” she asked.

  “They asked to have their names kept out of this,” Lyle said.
<
br />   “Did you know about this?” She turned to face the coach.

  He straightened up. “No. I didn’t. I had no idea, and I don’t know who the players are, though I could take a guess.”

  Lyle held up his hand. “That’s right. Pete is outta this. In fact, they complained to me about you, Pete. Said they went to you and got some cock and bull story about giving something new a try.”

  Pete felt a blush rise to his face.

  Jo put her hand on his arm. “You said that?”

  “Told you I’d try to convince the men. Didn’t you believe me?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  Now, it was her turn to redden. “I did, sort of.”

  “We can’t have unhappy players on the team. Before you know it, they’ll be signing with The Bobcats.” Lyle pushed to his feet and began to pace. “We’re number one, and I want to keep it that way.”

  “But the press. The goodwill.”

  “Fuck the press. Oh, sorry, Jo. Screw the goodwill. My men come first.”

  Pete sat back, running his hand along his chin, which was his habit when he was thinking.

  “We’ll have to can this whole thing. I don’t like to give them the upper hand, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna drive my best players away.”

  “Wait, Lyle. I’ve got an idea. How about this? Instead of a fine if they don’t attend, how about a bonus if they do?” Pete asked.

  “What? How much?” Lyle narrowed his eyes.

  “How much can you afford, to keep the men happy and be a leader in the NFL? Think of the great press we’ll get. And the guys’ll get more spending money. How about ten grand?”

  “Ten grand? Are you crazy? If ten players sign up, that’s a hundred grand!”

  “Goodwill doesn’t come cheap, Lyle. Don’t you want to stop those bad headlines? Stop bailing your team out of jail? That costs too. And think of the legal fees! Crap, those are a helluva lot more than a hundred grand.”