The O Coach

by Tara Wylde

  I glance at the appliance. “Yeah.”

  “If you put your dishes in it, and add just a little bit of soap, it’ll clean them,” he continues. “Then you wouldn’t have to wash them by hand.”

  “I like doing it by hand.” I rinse the coffee mug and place it in the dish rack. “It gives me time to think.” Plus, I keep hoping that it will teach me to stop letting my dirty dishes pile up. “And Harlan has finally learned that he has to wait for me to do this before we go for a walk. It’s teaching him some patience.”

  Garret glances at my dog, who has once again curled up under the kitchen table. He rubs his chins and his expression turns thoughtful.

  “How long do you usually walk him?”

  I shrug. “It depends on the day.” I look out the window. “On a pretty day like today, when it’s not too hot, we can spend hours rambling around town. He might look like a lump, but he’s in really good shape.”

  “You don’t have a set route or anything?”

  “I’m not organized enough for that. Besides, it’s safer to have a random system. Makes it harder for anyone to keep tabs on me.” Something I learned after I called it quits with Dillion. He surprised me a few times while I was out with Harlan. Now that I no longer leave the apartment at the same time, and I go in all sorts of different directions, I rarely bump into him.

  “Great. I could use some sunshine too.” Garret grins and points at my sink. “How long before you’re ready to go?”

  “I don’t know. Fifteen? Twenty minutes, maybe? Why?”

  “Because I have an idea, one that you and Harlan will love.” Sudden excitement radiates off Garret. “Meet me at the parking garage entrance in half an hour.”

  Garret turns and jogs out of my apartment before I have time to think of a response.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Erin

  “Oh. My. Gosh. I don’t think I’ve been here since I was in college. It was with a big group of friends.” I all but press my nose to the windshield of Garret’s Maserati Levante Trofeo and stare at the sign welcoming us to Catalina State Park. “I was a senior. As soon as we finished our last exam we borrowed a huge fifth wheel camper from Tina’s parents and drove it up here. We spent the weekend celebrating the end of our college life. It was wild.”

  “You’re ahead of me.” Garret slips the Trofeo into a parking space near the visitor’s center and turns the engine off. He slants me an amused glance. “I’ve never been here.”

  I gape at him. “Really? Not at all?”

  He shakes his head and unclips his seatbelt. “Not once. I’ve driven past it a few times and thought about stopping, but it never seems to happen.”

  I undo my seatbelt and slide out of the Maserati. “So what made you decide to come today?”

  I open the back door and grab Harlan’s leash just before he jumps out. The only thing he likes better than going on a car ride is a new adventure.

  “I don’t really know.” Garret walks around the front of the burgundy Maserati and watches as I get Harlan under control. “Like you said, it’s a nice day. The dog needed to take a walk, we have a few things that need to be discussed, and this is a dog friendly place. Seemed like this is a great place to spend a few hours while killing multiple birds with a single stone.”

  After a few minutes of good natured arguing, we decide to take the Birding Trail, which is a mile-long loop. According to the park ranger we spoke to, it will take us through three different habitats and we should see a really nice selection of native birds. Best of all, it is one of the only trails in the park where horses aren’t allowed, so I don’t have to worry about Harlan rolling in a pile of horse manure or trying to chase after them.

  “Okay.” Garret bounds out of the visitors center. A broad grin spreads across his angular face as he makes his way to the picnic table where Harlan and I are waiting for him. A plastic bag swings from one wrist. He digs into the bag and holds a small, thin book aloft. “The guy in the gift shop swears that this is the best guide available when it comes to birding. Apparently, it not only provides images of the types of birds we’ll find on the trail, but also some basic information about what makes each species unique.”

  “Great.” I pick up the nylon backpack that Garret brought from home and remove take the plastic water bottles and collapsible dog dish he’d just bought at the gift center into the.

  Garret takes the backpack from me and “Garret slides the straps up his arms and hooks the them on his shoulders. “And the book isn’t the only one thing I bought. Look what else I found.” Once again, he plunges a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and withdraws a slim pair of binoculars. They’re so tiny that his hand dwarfs them. “Thought these would come in handy so I bought a pair for each of us.”

  “Thank you.” I take the binoculars from him and hook the long strap around my neck. The sheer amount of effort he’s already put into what’s supposed to be a quick walk warms my heart. I tap my finger against the plastic as an idea takes shape. “Want to play a game?”

  Garret’s eyes narrow. “What kind of game?”

  “Let’s see who spots the most bird species. The loser owes the winner twenty bucks.”

  “You’re on.”

  We’re halfway around the looped birding trail before the conversation finally turns to the issue that has been bothering me since I first received the text offering to help me with my … problem.

  “I’d really like to know why you decided to help me. You said that even when your wife was alive and active on the No O site, that you didn’t do much counseling, and that when you did, you worked with men. I’m wondering what changed. Why me?”

  We walk several more yards before Garret finally speaks.

  “I don’t really know. I’ve seen you around the apartment building and always liked the way you handled yourself. I guess I wanted to make sure you’re happy with all aspects of your life.” He slants me a sideways glance. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not from where I’m standing.” I chew on the inside of my cheek and try to decide whether I should ask him the question that’s been really bothering me, the one that keeps me up at night. “How’d you even find out about me and the No O website? Do you have the site rigged with alarms and what not that go off each time someone reads through the content?”

  “No,” Garret chuckles. “Nothing like that.”

  “Then how’d you do it?” I demand.

  “I’m one of Many Miles Auto Part’s silent partners. You didn’t know it, but I was watching the teleconference you had with them.”

  Heat floods my face. “That explains everything.” Another thought occurs to me. “You’re a silent partner? And you own the apartment building—”

  “Look!” Excitement colors Garret’s voice as he points with one hand, the other fumbling with the guide book. “On that velvet mesquite tree. It’s a …” He flips through the pages. “Northern Harrier.” His eyes roam down the page, reading the text that accompanies the photo. “They’re rodent eaters who can range as far as 100 miles a day while searching for food. Apparently, they’re also called marsh hawks because one of their preferred roosts are in salt marshes. They’re considered North America’s most agile hawks.” Garret takes another peek at the bird. “Based on the coloring, this is a lady hawk.”

  He tucks the guidebook in his back pocket and continues looking at the bird. “If I’m counting correctly, that means I’ve managed to spot eight species and you’ve spotted six.”

  I roll my eyes. “Not that you’re bragging or anything.” When I spotted a Northern Mockingbird just a few minutes into our walk, and then bragged about being the first to see and identify a bird, I hadn’t realized I was also tapping into Garret’s competitive side. “Next time we walk the dog together, the rules are going to be different. It’s going to be who can identify the most birds without using the guidebook.” Too bad I didn’t think of that sooner, since I am much more up on Arizona’s native birds than Garret is. I’ve onl
y had to consult the book once. He has for each bird he’s spotted.

  Clutching Harlan’s leash with one hand, I lift the binoculars with the other, and peer through them, scanning the local vegetation.

  “I don’t see it.”

  “Here.” Garret moves directly behind me. His body heat and the scent of his after-shave envelope me as he gently places a big hand on either side of my skull. I hold my breath as he rotates my head. My heart pounds. The only thing I can think of is his closeness. The memory of the impulsive kiss we shared last night floods my mind, chasing all other rational thought away.

  I swallow, hard. The only thing I want to do right now is turn around and press my body and my lips to his, recreating that precious moment we shared in the hallway last night.

  “There.” Garret’s voice is a low whisper in my ear. “Now do you see it?”

  See what? Ah, yes. His bird.

  Feeling just a bit shaky, I focus my attention back on my binoculars and look through the glass. It takes a second, but finally I find the hawk that caught Garret’s interest. It’s perched on one of the small tree’s upper branches, casually preening its chocolate brown feathers.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

  “Not as beautiful as you.”

  Garret’s voice is low, it sends shivers racing down my spine. Something warm, lovely, and unfamiliar envelopes my heart.

  Garret’s hands slide down my neck, cupping my shoulders.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, I turn to face him.

  “Garret,” I breathe out, my voice every bit as soft as his was.

  Our eyes lock, tension swirling around us. My knees shake as I anticipate him bending his head and claiming my mouth with his own. Instead he jerks back, moving away from me as if I’m a plague carrier.

  He stumbles backwards several steps before finally coming to a stop. Wide eyed, he stares at me while his thumb frantically rubs at his wedding ring.

  “I’m—” He swallows. “I’m sorry, Erin. I don’t know what happened right there. I just got caught up in, I don’t know, the excitement of the moment or some damn thing. I swear, it won’t happen again. Okay?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.

  His head bobs up and down. “Yeah. I am. And I really didn’t mean for that to happen. I want us to be friends. I’m not pushing for anything else.”

  “Friends sounds good.” I smile tightly at him before turning away to hide the sudden burst of pain that’s radiating from my heart.

  Friends are good, but in this case friend and sex coach just isn’t enough. While I’m not sure exactly what I want, there’s a spark between Garret and me, something that’s brighter and more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced before. Something that goes far deeper than mere friendship. Too bad Garret doesn’t want to explore it as badly as I do.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Garret

  Friends? Neither my mind nor my body are happy with my proclamation that I want to be friends with Erin. They don’t care that last night, when I returned to my apartment, I sat down and had a long talk with Sammy about Erin, and that we both agreed that I needed to stay away from her. That it would be the best thing for both her and me.

  When I went to her apartment this morning, my intention was to provide her with the name of a sex therapist that Maddy had always thought highly of and wish her luck. I don’t know why, instead of doing that, I concocted this scheme to bring us to this park.

  Now, my mind wants to get to know her better, while my body just wants her … badly.

  It doesn’t help that on the drive over I learned that she and I have the same taste in music and movies, and she looks like a million dollars in a pair of cutoffs and a pale pink, long sleeved T-shirt. I thought she looked good last night, but today, in super casual dog walking clothes and no makeup, she looks much hotter.

  “Why are you working so hard to fall in love?” I ask, unable to bear the heavy silence hanging between us.

  Erin looks hard in the surrounding habitat, probably hoping to spot a bird species we haven’t already encountered, though I don’t know if it’s to try to beat me, or if it’s an avoidance tactic. Probably both.

  “I don’t like being alone,” she finally says in a small, vulnerable voice that makes my heart ache. “I never have, and it’s not enough to surround myself with roommates and friends. I want to be the most important thing in someone else’s life. And I’m getting tired of waiting.”

  “That was what Maddy and I had together.” The words tumble out before I have a chance to stop them. And not a day goes by when I don’t miss the connection.

  I slide a sideways glance at Erin. There’s something building between us, something that feels remarkably like a life bond, though it’s still in a delicate and tentative phase. It’s just strong enough that I can no longer deny its existence. Sweat trickles down my back and my hands close into fists.

  Up until now, I’ve been able to convince myself that Erin is just an interesting person who I happen to like and also find sexually attractive, but this new realization changes everything, and I don’t know how I feel about it.

  I don’t know how to reconcile what’s steadily building between Erin and me with what Maddie and I shared.

  Erin’s steps falter and she stares at me with wide eyes.

  “How did it happen?” She gives a little, humorless laugh and shakes her head. “Stupid question. I mean how did you find one another?”

  “Not through an online dating site or anything conventional like that.” The thought makes me chuckle.

  Erin grimaces and tugs on Harlan’s leash as he tries to step off the foot path. “Online dating is the only way I meet any eligible guys.”

  “There’s not a dating service in the world that would have put our profiles together.”

  “Then how’d you meet?” She holds up a hand. “Hang on, let me guess, you were high school sweethearts. Or neighbors.”

  “I’d gotten in legal trouble. Assault.” Erin’s eyebrows shoot upwards and the warmth drains from her expression. “It could have been worse. I was sixteen and took a swing at a guy who’d sideswiped my buddy’s car. Broke his nose. Amongst other things, I was ordered to get some counseling for my anger issues. Maddy was nineteen and already planned on becoming a psychologist. To get some experience and good recommendations, she was interning at the same facility the court ordered me to.”

  “Kismet,” Erin says, her naturally happy expression falling back into place. “Like a romance novel.”

  “Haven’t read any of those,” I tell her. She really needs to get over this romance novel obsession. It’s impacting the way she views the real world. “I don’t know that I even would have noticed Maddy, but according to her, she took one look at me and decided that I was the one she wanted, and she decided that she was going to get exactly what she wanted. Eventually, I realized I wanted her just as much.”

  “That’s sweet,” Erin sighs. “Young love stories are always so beautiful.”

  “We got married on my eighteenth birthday and then worked like hell. She waited tables and I worked as a mechanic.”

  I also discovered that I’m even more talented at investing. Thanks to some stocks, buying into different business, and some surprisingly good business deals, I’ve somehow managed to earn more than a billion dollars, a fact that never ceases to stun and amaze me.

  Erin kicks at a pebble, sending it skittering along the path. “I don’t mind working at a relationship. In fact, I’m excited about working on and toward a happily ever after. I just want all the components to be in place, you know?”

  “Components?” I’ve heard lots of people talk about love and what they want from a relationship, but not once have I heard anyone use the word ‘components’ in the conversation. I’m not sure it’s used anywhere other than science lectures.

  “Passion, respect, friendship, great sex.” Erin uses her fingers to tick off each item. “As long as I have all of
that, I’ll work my butt off to keep it, no matter what challenges come my way.”

  It’s such a nice day that I really hate to bring up No O and Erin’s sex life, but I might never have a better opening.

  “Erin, I don’t know if you’ve thought about this,” I say slowly, “but is it possible that you’re so desperate to fall in love, to find all the … components, as you say, that you’re making it impossible for you to enjoy sex?”

  She shoves her free hand into the pocket of her shorts and seems to seriously mull over my question. “Honestly, I don’t know if that was going on when I first started dating and attempting the whole sex thing, but now … it might be. It’s also possible that I’m so worried that I won’t feel anything when I have sex, that I get tense.”

  I practically rub my hands together. That was easier than I expected. “I want to help you, I do, and I think I can help with the orgasm thing, probably, but maybe it’s also time that you think about going to see a professional, even for just a few appointments and see if they can help you develop the skills you need to attract and keep the perfect guy.”

  Erin’s jaw stiffens. “I’m not sure that my issues are so bad that I need professional help.”

  When Maddie was alive, she told me this happened all the time, that people see therapy as a type of weakness, so instead of getting the help needed to improve the quality of their lives, they continued to suffer. It drove her nuts.

  I planted a seed. Hopefully, it’ll germinate, and Erin will think about her current pattern. It’s possible that once she does, she’ll reconsider her stance on therapy, or at the very least, change the way she approaches dates.

  We round a curve in the trail and skid to a stop.

  More than thirty feet of the path is under water.

  Erin chews on her lower lip. “They did say that some of the spots may experience flooding. Looks like we found one of those spots.” She looks from the water to the pretty, tan leather sandals she’s wearing. “How deep do you think it is?”