by Lana Dash
DEAR COACH’S DAUGHTER
SINCERELY YOURS SERIES
LANA DASH
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Also By Lana Dash
About the Author
DEAR COACH’S DAUGHTER is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Copyright © 2021 by LANA DASH
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author/publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
1
HUNTER
When the news broke about the doping scandal that involved our star quarterback Jace Michaels, I got a call from the team manager telling me that Coach Moreno wanted to see me right away. As the backup QB on the team, my number was finally being called. It’s a day I haven’t had yet in my professional career.
“Did you know about this?” Coach asked, pointing at the muted screen mounted on his office wall.
All the sports networks hadn’t stopped talking about the scandal all morning. They were showing old footage of Jace practicing with the team as if it were happening right now or something. Then, a picture of my face appeared on the screen with a red question mark next to it.
I shook my head and turned back to Coach. “No, sir.”
There had been some rumblings from some of the guys on the team about how they heard that Jace might be taking some enhancement drugs after his hamstring injury last year. But I didn’t think it was true until, just like the rest of the world, I was told about his drug test that found the use of a diuretic in his system that is often used to mask drug use in tests.
The headline below the sports anchor flashes, and it says that Jace has been suspended from the first eight games of the season.
“Dammit, Michaels!” He slammed his fist down on the desk. “We had a real chance of going all the way this year, but thanks to him and this suspension, it’s really going to set us back.”
I tried not to take Coach’s frustration with the circumstances as a direct reflection of his belief that I can't step up and fill Michaels’s shoes. Nevertheless, this is a big blow to all of us.
“What else did he say?” Ramirez asks over the loud swell of voices in the bar.
He and Caldwell, two of my closest friends on the team, had invited me out for drinks to discuss everything that was going down.
I shrug and take a sip of my beer. “He just asked a few more questions about what I might have heard and then told me that I’d be starting.”
"Well, it's not the best way to get some time on the field, but congrats Delaney. It’s been a long time coming.” Caldwell holds up his own beer bottle to clink with mine.
I tap my beer bottle with him, but I can't shake the feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt a change in the air this morning when I woke up, but I couldn't have imagined it would be this.
“Screw Michaels,” Ramirez says. “He’s always been a selfish bastard. Only thinking of himself and never putting the team first. I’m glad that it’s finally caught up with him.”
Caldwell nods.
My teammates might be okay with how the events unfolded, but it is something much bigger to me. My life is about to change. I’m about to step out onto the biggest stage in football. I've dreamt of this moment my whole life. Since back in the day, when I played in the backyard with my dad and older brother, Zach.
What I would give to have my older brother around today to get some advice on how to handle all this. He always knew how to help me compartmentalize the shit going on in our lives.
I lift my beer to take another sip but realize that it’s empty. I push back from the table.
“I’m going to get another.” I shake my empty bottle at them. “Another round for you guys?”
* * *
BROWNIE
I was supposed to meet my dad for dinner tonight. But on the drive back to the city, when I heard on the radio about the doping scandal with Jace Michaels, I knew that he wouldn’t be able to make it.
This is the last thing his heart needs to be dealing with right now. The doctor wanted him to take it easy after his mild heart attack over the summer, but you can’t tell my dad anything—unless it involves football.
Thankfully Taylor, my college roommate and now current roommate, was available to distract me. She suggested we come down to the bar below our building and get a drink. A reward for both of us after we spent the afternoon unpacking my stuff and getting me settled.
I’d planned on moving in with my dad, wanting to be closer to him so I could watch out for him, but he wouldn’t have it. He was already upset that I’d picked up and moved back for him. He'd much rather live in denial about what happened than doing what he can to get better.
“He’s going to be fine,” Taylor says, reading my worried expression.
“I just don’t want him to have to deal with anymore added stress.”
"Well, stress is a part of anyone's life when you are the head coach of a professional football team."
“Is that supposed to be helpful?” I ask.
She scrunches her face. “It sounded better in my head.”
“I just wish he wouldn’t push me away.”
“Your dad's shadow has always been long, and he knows that. He just wants you to have your own life that doesn't involve football. The closer you are, the harder it is for you to find your own path. Don't take it personally if it seems like he isn't happy that you are back. He’s over the moon, but he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to be here.”
“I know you are right, but it’s still hard.”
“You know what will make it better?” Taylor asks.
“What?”
“Shots.”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “We aren’t in the dorms anymore. We can’t drink all night and still manage to get up for an early morning class.”
Taylor pouts. “Speak for yourself. I’m not ready to turn in my youth card just yet.”
I laugh. "How about I meet you halfway and get you a margarita?”
“You read my mind.”
I slip out of the booth bench and head over to the bar. The place is crowded tonight, and the bartender looks frantic as he tries to work through each drink order.
Slowly I make it to the front and lean in against the bar. I push up onto my toes and try to catch the attention of the bartender.
“You might be in for a bit of a wait,” someone says next to me.
I turn and freeze when I see the easy smile of the cutest guy I’ve seen in a long time. My heart rate picks up in my chest. He’s not classically handsome, but he has that boy next door charm that is like my kryptonite.
“I think you might be right," I say, turning back to check and see if the bartender is making his way back towards us. "But I’ve got something that might help me jump the line.”
Amusement twinkles in his toffee-colored eyes. "And what's that?"
“Breasts,” I answer matter of factly.
His eyes glance down at my chest, but he quickly looks away. A rosy hue floods his cheeks, and he can't hold back the smile spreading across his face. So. Freaking. Cute.
“I stand corrected.” He chuckles.
“Tell you what,” I say, enjoying this little flirt session more than I should. “If I get the bartender’s attention before you. I’ll add your order to mine.”
“Deal.” He holds out his hand to me to shake on it. “I’m Hunter.”
I put my hand in his and can’t ignore the spark I feel all the way to the heat pooling between my thighs. It's been longer than I care to admit since the last time I've had sex, and my body is screaming for me to break my dry spell with this cute guy.
Hunter.
“What’ll you have?” The bartender asks, pulling my attention away.
“Two margaritas and—” I turn to my bar companion.
“Three bottles of beer,” Hunter answers.
The bartender looks between the two of us. He's annoyed that we are doubling up our orders on him.
“They are all for me,” I say. “I’m really thirsty.”
He makes a face and walks away to put together our order. I turn back to Hunter. He’s pulled out his wallet and is laying down enough money to cover all the drinks.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, pulling a twenty out of my pocket.
He holds up his hand to stop me. “It’s the least I can do. Who knows how long I might have had to wait to put in my order without you.”
“Thank you.”
"You're welcome—" he pauses, waiting for me to give my name.
I hesitate for a moment.
In this city, it's not out of the realm of possibility that he could recognize my name if he's even slightly interested in football. My parents saddled me with a unique name that the sports commentators like to explain to the viewing audience during the downtime in the game when the camera would find my mother and me in the stands. I don’t like people knowing that I'm Coach Moreno's daughter. They think I have the ability to get an infinite amount of free tickets for them when they find out. I mean, I do, but I don’t tell people that.
“Bea,” I say.
“It’s very nice to meet you.”
The bartender sets down my two margaritas in front of me. I pick them up and step back from the bar.
“Thank you for the drinks, Hunter.”
If I don’t make myself walk away now, I can easily see myself wanting to spend the rest of the night talking to him.
He doesn’t hide the disappointment on his face when he realizes our time together is over. No, it’s not that he doesn’t hide it. It’s that I don’t think he can hide it. Hunter is so open that it’s easy to read him like a book.
Gah.
Why does he have to be so appealing?
I turn and take my drinks back to Taylor. She doesn't even look like she noticed I was gone when I slip into the booth bench across from her. She's on her phone texting, and I don't have to ask to know that it's her boyfriend, Mack. I only met him once so far, but he was like a kid on Christmas when he found out who my father is.
“He has not stopped staring at you,” Taylor says.
“Who?”
She makes an annoyed face at me. “What do you mean who? The guy you were flirting with at the bar.”
I glance over my shoulder and meet his unapologetic gaze. He gives me that easy smile that made my heart skip when he first flashed it at me. I turn back to Taylor.
“Go over and talk to him. You know you want to.”
I do.
“I can’t. I have enough on my plate right now. I don’t need to muddle up my life with some guy.”
“Brownie, you can’t put your life on hold forever.”
“Not forever,” I say and take a sip. “At least until I know my Dad is okay.”
2
HUNTER
“Did you ever get that girl’s number?” Caldwell asks as we get dressed in the locker room.
We just finished up practice. It was grueling, and it was clear that Coach was taking his frustrations with Jace out on us. I don’t blame him. A lot of the guys are ticked off about what happened. At least most of them aren’t taking it out on me like I somehow had something to do with Jace deciding to use enhancement drugs.
“No,” I say, glancing up from tying my shoe. “She left before I could go over and talk to her again.”
I haven’t been able to get Bea out of my mind. I messed up a few plays this afternoon when I thought I saw her sitting in the stands watching the practice. But there is no way that I’m that lucky to find her again so quickly. That being said, I’ve already decided to head back to the bar again tonight and every night until I run into her again.
I haven't clicked so quickly with someone in a very long time. Most of the women I meet seek the thrill of dating a professional football player, and being backup QB doesn’t rank high on their list. Not that they were the type of women I’m looking to be with. I want something real.
I was spoiled as a kid to grow up with parents that thought the other one hung the moon. So nothing short of finding that in my own girl is my goal. I know that it’s probably not possible that lightning will strike twice in my family like that for love, but I can still hope.
“Delaney!” Coach yells from the doorway of his office. “My office. Now.”
Caldwell and I share a questioning glance. He looks as confused as I feel. I know I messed up a few times today, but I'm still finding my feet in my new position. We only have a week before the first game of the season, but I know that I will get there.
I push to my feet and head into Coach's office. He's sitting behind his desk. Footage from last season is playing on the screen.
“I think you know why I called you in here,” he says, gesturing for me to take a seat across from him.
“I know that today was a bit shaky,” I say, sitting down. “But I’m just getting the lay of the land. I will be better tomorrow.”
“What?” He looks at me confused and then shakes his head. “No, I’m talking about the coverage.”
“Coverage?”
One thick eyebrow ticks up. “You haven’t been listening to what’s being said?”
My heart sinks into my stomach.
It’s been barely twenty-four hours since everything went down. And to be honest, in the last twelve hours, Bea has been at the forefront of my mind.
“I wanted to really focus on what is in front of me. So, I haven’t been focusing on any outside influences. Why? Is it bad?”
Coach shakes his head. "No, son. Nothing worse than what is to be expected in a shake-up like this. I'm proud of you for keeping your focus where it needs to be—on the game.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“And don’t worry about today. I know that you will find your stride. I wouldn’t be putting you out on the field if I didn’t think that you could handle the pressure and get the job done effectively.”
“Dad, you said that you’d be—” A familiar voice interrupts.
I turn and see Bea standing in the doorway of the office. Her wide gaze flicks between me and then Coach and back again.
“Brownie, what have I told you about knocking?"
Dad? Brownie?
My brain tries to catch up with this turn of events unfolding in front of me. I thought I saw Bea sitting in the stands watching the practice, but I chalked it up to just wishful thinking.
“I thought you said your name is Bea?” I blurt out.
She makes a face, and her eyes flicker over to Coach like she doesn't want to be having this conversation in front of her father. The realization hits me all at once—she’s the coach’s daughter.
“Wait, you two know each other?” Coach asks.
I wince, wishing I could go back and stuff a pair of rolled-up socks in my mouth to keep me
from asking that last question.
“We met last night. Just in passing. It was nothing.”
Her words cut through me like a knife in my chest. It was nothing? I thought that we shared a connection, but I guess that it was only on my side.
"Why didn't you say anything, son?"
I look at Coach and shake my head. “I didn’t know, sir.”
He studies my face like he's looking for some sign that I'm not telling the truth. But I genuinely didn't know. I mean, everyone knows Coach's daughter's name. He named her after the team that gave him his start back in the day, but that wasn’t the name she gave me. And I’m starting to realize why.
“Dad, we have that appointment to get to,” Brownie says, her eyes widen on the word “appointment” like she’s trying to say something without saying it in front of me.
“Delaney, you can go. Good job today. Keep focusing on the job ahead of you.”
“Yes, sir.” I stand up.
“Brownie, I’ll meet you outside. I have to make a quick call before we go.”
She sighs dramatically. "You have three minutes, and then I'm coming back in here to drag you out kicking and screaming if I have to."
It’s adorable how she tries to look like she is annoyed, but it’s clear deep down she’s not mad.
I follow her out of the office, secretly grateful that I’m going to get a chance to talk to her. I wait until we both walk out of the locker room and into the hallway that is deserted before I grab her hand and pull her to a stop.
“Why did you lie?” I ask, needing to know the truth from her lips without my assumption.
She looks at me like she’s offended. “I didn’t lie.”
“You said your name was Bea.”
“It is. I go by Bea. It’s easier than having to explain my name to people who don’t know and think my parents named me after a stupid dessert.”
