Out of Her League

by Lori Handeland

  How could he be so contradictory, yet so enticing? She didn’t know, but he was. Heaven help her.

  Evie scooted onto the empty chair at her side, then stood. Her attempt to get away from him didn’t work. That huge hand reached out and took her arm—gently—but that didn’t stop the shudder of awareness that rippled through her. The contrast of his hard hand and his gentle touch made her mind spin. She just stared at him like a zombie.

  Thankfully, Joe didn’t notice. Or maybe he was too polite to mention it. Iceman Scalotta polite? No. He just hadn’t noticed.

  Then his thumb stroked—once, twice, up, then down—her inner arm, above her elbow where no one ever touched, and her shudder became a shiver.

  She looked up, up, up into his eyes and recognized a confusion that mirrored her own, seconds before something hotter, more intense, more dangerous, sprang to life

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if you could take your seats we’ll begin.” Mrs. Larson’s voice boomed over the microphone, making both Evie and Joe jump away from each other as if they’d been caught necking in the back seat of a car.

  Evie’s face flamed at the image. Remembering having necked in a parked car with Ray, she struggled for control.

  She wasn’t going to let an attractive face and a great body, no matter how appealing, entice her into ruining her life for a second time. She was stronger than that. Wasn’t she? No longer the naive young girl who’d adored a man beyond reason, she’d learned from that mistake and would not make it again.

  She had three boys to think of. Their futures depended on her. That was why she had come here tonight—for her sons. Now, if she could only figure out what she must do to stop the tide before it became a tidal wave and washed over everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.

  “We’ve gathered here tonight,” Mrs. Larson continued, “to welcome a newcomer to our town. Most of you have heard that Joe Scalotta and his daughter have moved to Oak Grove—” Mrs. Larson beamed at Joe as if he’d just won the Nobel Prize for medicine.

  The entire room stared at him.

  Evie, too. His confused frown made him look like a little boy who’d just been awoken from a deep nap and wasn’t sure exactly where he was.

  “After last evening’s spectacular example of what Mr. Scalotta’s presence can mean to this community and its sports program, the school board—on the recommendation of Don Barry, the athletic director—has unanimously decided to offer Mr. Scalotta the coveted position of varsity baseball coach at Oak Grove High.”

  Thunderous applause broke out. Joe’s frown became a full-blown scowl, and he shook his head, even though people were already slapping him on the back and congratulating him.

  Taking advantage of everyone’s preoccupation, Evie slipped to the front of the room. Her heart beat a cadence of panic. She glanced at Don, but he would not meet her eyes. Guilty as charged.

  Her father’s best friend had offered her job to Joe without even giving Evie a chance to protest. Don Barry hadn’t asked her opinion, or even apologized for taking her dream and stamping on it. From the way they were all ignoring her, they expected her to be a good little soldier and accept what they’d decided.

  Not in this lifetime.

  Evie’s panic turned to fury. Before she could think of an adequate game plan, she spoke above the congratulations of the crowd. “That job was promised to me.”

  The murmurs stopped as everyone turned to stare at her, obviously amazed she had the guts to contradict the grand dame of Oak Grove or the man who had brought Evie to town in the first place.

  She discounted them all and pressed on. “I don’t think it’s fair or in the children’s best interest to give the job to a man we barely know just because his name’s been in the papers and his face all over the television.”

  Mrs. Larson’s mouth scrunched up like a day-old lemon, but she managed to speak, anyway. “He’s a professional athlete, Evelyn.”

  Uh-oh. Mrs. Larson had called her “Evelyn.” Bad sign. The old lady was spitting mad—though she would never so much as raise her voice. She never had to. No one argued with Lillian Larson. Until today.

  “He was a professional athlete. And even then he was a football player.”

  “I hardly see the relevance of football to this discussion.”

  Evie wanted to shriek in frustration, but impatience with Mrs. Larson’s lack of understanding would not endear Evie further. To a woman like Mrs. Larson, a ball was a ball. You threw it, you caught it, that was that. She did not see that football and baseball were two different—well, two different ball games.

  Evie gave up on Mrs. Larson and addressed Don. “If you want to offer him the football team, that’s fine. That would make sense. But baseball—” Evie shook her head “—he isn’t qualified.”

  Don’s ruddy face darkened. “Don’t tell me my job.”

  Oops. Evie realized her mistake too late. Don might be her dad’s oldest friend, but he was also one of those macho men you had to tread very carefully around. Instead, she’d stepped right on his toes.

  “I hired you as a favor to your dad, and I can’t say I’m sorry, because you’re an excellent teacher and a great coach. But we’re talking about the highest profile job in this town. We don’t want a little gal like you taking those big kids to the state championship.”

  His comment about hiring her as a favor stung. It was no doubt true, and at the time she’d needed the job too badly to care. Now she was just furious. “What difference does it make who takes the team to state? Do you want the best coach? Or do you want the best sound bite?”

  “Could I say a word here?” Joe was suddenly right behind her.

  “No,” Evie snapped without even turning around. She couldn’t fight Joe, Don and Mrs. Larson all at the same time. “Why do you want to ruin the best chance those kids have to get scholarships by hiring the wrong coach?”

  “Hey!” Joe protested. “I’m a great coach.”

  Evie spun about and nearly bumped her nose on Joe’s chest. She refused to step back, even though he was so close she had to crick her neck to glare into his face. “You were a great football player. You have never been a coach.”

  He leaned down. “Have you ever coached an all-male varsity sport?”

  She went up on her toes so they were nose to chin. “What does that have to do with anything—”

  “Ahem.”

  Evie did an about-face, to find Mrs. Larson’s lemon lips had thinned into a single line. Don wasn’t looking at her again, which meant Mrs. Larson had the floor. Evie expected to be sent to her room without supper—for the next several years. Which is exactly what would happen if she lost this job. She would not be eating supper for however long it took to save enough money to send the boys to college. Her stomach growled in protest, and she winced.

  “I’m sorry—” Mrs. Larson began.

  “Wait!” The word constituted Evie’s second interruption of the evening. Had she just dug her own grave? Even if she had, she could not sit back and watch these two bury her dream. She would fight until the bitter end for her children’s future.

  She tried to speak rationally—like a teacher with a student who just didn’t get it. “I was promised that job. How can you justify taking it away from me for no other reason than sexual discrimination?”

  “Uh-oh,” Joe murmured at her back. His breath skated down her neck, and Evie shivered.

  Would she ever learn the trick of treading lightly around touchy issues? It didn’t look like it. The realization of what she’d just said, and the fury on Don’s and Mrs. Larson’s faces as soon as the words left Evie’s mouth, made her shiver for another reason.

  In Oak Grove you handled your own problems. You did not whine to the police; you definitely did not file a lawsuit. Any conflicts were solved by talking face-to-face, and if that didn’t work you sent an emissary—like your great-aunt Hester, who had gone to school with the uncle of your neighbor’s cousin. Lawyers were for wills, the occasional divorce and r
eal-estate transactions. That was all.

  “Your father would be ashamed of you,” Don said.

  Evie doubted that. Her father had only been ashamed of her once. But because he’d been her father, he’d stood behind her anyway. He’d stand behind her now, too. That knowledge gave her courage. She met Don’s eyes. He looked away first, and she knew he would stay out of the fight. Macho he might be, but no one messed with

  “Are you threatening me?” Mrs. Larson’s voice trembled.

  So did Evie’s hands, which she quickly clasped behind her back. “No, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Larson eyed her for a long moment. “If I recall, the decision about this job was contingent upon your team’s going to the state championship.”

  “Which isn’t until August. I haven’t had a chance to prove myself.”

  Mrs. Larson was shaking her head before Evie finished her sentence. She had to do something. Anything. If Mrs. Larson uttered the final word, there would be no going back.

  Panic made Evie desperate. “You want the best person for the job, don’t you?”

  Mrs. Larson frowned. She couldn’t admit, in front of the school board and assembled parents, that all she wanted was a celebrity coach. Everyone might know that, but she couldn’t say it; it would mean publication in the school board minutes on page four of the Oak Grove Sentinel next Tuesday or Thursday morning, and invite a scandal.

  “Of course we want the best man, Evelyn.”

  Evie ignored the sarcasm and the “Evelyn.” “And you just said you were going to give me the job if I took my team to the championship.”

  “Correct.”

  “Bob Cummings broke his leg yesterday. I need a coach for his team.”

  “That is not my problem, dear.”

  “No, it isn’t. But I have a solution to both our problems.” Evie paused.

  Mrs. Larson glanced at the crowd. What she saw there made her eyes narrow, but she returned her gaze to Evie and bowed her head with a regal little nod of acquiescence.

  Evie drew a deep breath and hurried on. “I propose that Mr. Scalotta take Bob’s place. If his team finishes higher in the standings at the end of the season, the job is his. However, if my team finishes higher, the job is mine. Deal?”

  Mrs. Larson shook her head again; Don scowled and did the same. Evie’s heart did a free fall toward her toes. The old lady opened her mouth, but it was Joe’s voice they all heard.

  “Deal,” he said.

  The room went wild.

  *

  Chapter Eight

  “…Most exciting school board meeting I’ve been to in a dog’s age.”

  “…This is going to be one rip-roarin’ summer.”

  “…Can’t wait to see what those two come up with for round two.”

  The comments, jokes and good-natured laughter swirled around Joe. Since he had agreed to Evie’s proposition, the two of them had been surrounded by people, and they had been unable to talk to each other. From the set of Evie’s mouth, she wasn’t pleased with him, even though he had agreed to her crazy notion.

  Why had he? Because she’d stung his pride, yanked his machismo, thrown down the proverbial gauntlet. Since childhood Joe had been competitive. In fact, his mother said he’d come out of the womb expecting to win.

  Joe himself thought that having three older brothers who always told their “little” brother he couldn’t play might have made him more susceptible to challenge than most guys. Naturally, he had to prove that he could. It was a character flaw, but at least Joe knew it.

  To have someone announce in a room full of peers that Joe Scalotta wasn’t up to a job… Well, childish though it was, he just couldn’t let that go by. Even if he’d never wanted Evie’s job in the first place.

  Why did she want the job so badly anyway, especially when it would take her away from her children even more? Was it any of his business? Probably not. But now that the twins were under Joe’s feet half the time and Adam looked to be a new boarder at his house, what went on in the land of Vaughn had suddenly become far too interesting to Joe Scalotta.

  He was brought back to the room by an avid slap on his shoulder. Joe looked down into the face of a shriveled old man, too frail to have slammed him that hard. But even as he thought it, the old guy grabbed his hand and pumped up and down with a grip that would rival that of a world heavyweight champion.

  “Name’s Norville Hoyt. Good going, son. I haven’t had this much fun since they stopped letting me watch that Jeffrey Springer fella on the television. Said I get too excited and my blood pressure—”

  He let go of Joe’s hand and flicked a gnarled finger upward as he whistled through his teeth. “I just love a good battle. Especially between a little gal and big guy. Can’t wait to see how this comes out in the paper.”

  “Paper?”

  “You betcha.” He pointed at a young man with a notepad and pen, who still scribbled madly, at the table near the window. “That there is the school board reporter. Not a very important beat, don’tcha know, so they give it to a high school kid. But he got an earful tonight. Wouldn’t be surprised if he sends the thing to the television station. After all the interest last night, this here meeting will be news.”

  Joe groaned. More publicity. Grr.

  Hoyt slapped him on the arm. “This is going to be a great summer. I just love them baseball games, but now, with you two goin’ at it—” He whistled again, the sound shrill and loud above the noise. “It’s goin’ to be a doozy. I bet the crowds are huge.” Stepping closer, Hoyt nudged Joe in the gut—hard. “She’s a pretty little thing, ain’t she?”

  Joe rubbed his belly. “Who?”

  “Coach Vaughn.”

  Joe followed Hoyt’s gaze to where Evie stood surrounded by several parents. The dress she’d worn to the meeting was plain and simple, but perfect for her, and Joe caught himself admiring her shapely shoulders and smooth skin, which the thin straps of her dress revealed.

  Hoyt’s whistle this time was of the wolf variety and drew Evie’s attention from the group toward them. She frowned at Joe, and he shrugged and pointed at Hoyt. Her frown turned into a genuine smile of affection, and she excused herself from her circle to join them.

  Evie kissed Hoyt’s wrinkled cheek, and the tough old guy blushed. “Good show, girlie. I’m impressed.”

  “I aim to please.”

  “Well, I’m leaving before Merlene comes lookin’ for me. You know how she gets when I’m late. I’ll see you at practice, Coach.” He walked off with a spring in his step that belied the years on his face.

  “Practice?” Joe asked.

  “He’s my assistant.”

  “Hoyt? He must be eighty.”

  “Eighty-three. He played with DiMaggio.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes, way. He knows more than I do. But while the mind is willing, the body just can’t keep up anymore.”

  “He’s got a grip like a sumo wrestler.”

  “That he does.” She looked over Joe’s shoulder. “I guess they’re waiting to lock up.”

  Joe followed her gaze. The custodian stood in the doorway, jingling his keys. Everyone else had disappeared. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “No need. This is Oak Grove. The most dangerous thing wandering the streets at night is a stray cat.”

  “I think we need to talk.”

  “Oh.” She colored. “Of course.”

  He followed her from the room, down the long hallway lined with lockers and out the door that emptied into the parking lot. Only his car remained, with no sign of Evie’s.

  “Your car?”

  “I walked.”

  “Walked?”

  “Yes, walked. It is summer.”

  “That must be two miles.”

  She laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised, he-man. Walking is good for the lungs, and even better for the mind when you rarely get to be alone. Besides, Adam took the car to your house.”

  Joe tensed. How could he have f
orgotten his baby was home alone—or rather not alone? Joe resisted the urge to jump in his vehicle and tear out of the lot to rescue his little girl. When he looked down at Evie, she was smiling.

  “What?”

  “You might be Iceman, but when you think about Toni—everything you feel is all over your face.”

  He shrugged and turned away, embarrassed.

  “It’s one of your appealing qualities.” She sounded both amazed and amused.

  He turned back to her with a raise of his brow. “I bet you figured I didn’t have any.”

  “You’re right.” She walked across the parking lot.

  He caught up with her in two strides, his long legs eating up the ground much more quickly than hers. “Any others come to mind?”

  “Not that I can dredge up offhand.” Her tone was sarcastic, but the way she ducked her head, shy and embarrassed, made Joe think she liked other things—guy-girl things, man-woman things—and the secret attraction that he’d tried to deny since the first time he realized she was a woman and not a child sprang to life.

  They reached his car, and she slowed. “Do you want a ride home?” he asked.

  “No, thanks. I’ve seen how you drive.”

  “Really, I can drop you off.”

  “Really. No, thanks.”

  “Fine.” Since he wanted to touch her shoulders where the moon glistened silver on gold, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants and glanced around, at a loss what to say now. What was it about this woman that made his glib words and usual moves seem inappropriate and crude? When he slid a look back at her, she was gone, already at the playground equipment that sat between the schools.

  “Hey, wait up!” he called.

  She’d reached the swing set, and plunked herself down on one of the swings. A quick push with her feet and she swayed back and forth. Joe watched her for a few minutes, then trudged across the grass.

  “You suddenly felt like swinging?” he asked when he got to her.