Betting Bad

by Cathryn Fox

  From the sideline, Coach is watching us, and a measure of guilt twists me up inside. Yeah, I told him I’d stay away from Sara, swore to it actually, and I’m going against my word. I fucking hate that. A man’s word is everything. What is he without it? But this is what Sara needs. What she asked me for. I wish I could say I was doing it solely for her, but that would be a big fucking lie, now wouldn’t it. I can’t stay away from her any more than she can stay way from me, and it’s not just Coach that wants me to keep my distance. My mother, in not so many words, said the same thing to me the other night.

  Do I think this plan of hers will work? Do I think after time in her bed, it will help her get me out of her system? I can’t speak for her, but I know walking away from her again will be the fucking death of me. But I hope it’s what she needs, because the truth is, I want Sara to be happy. I want her to get everything in life she deserves. For as long as I’ve known her, she wanted out of Middletown, and it fucking slays me that she seems to be settling in for the long haul. I’d do just about anything to help her move to a better neighborhood. Is moving up in the bank what she really wants? I somehow doubt that, but it’s none of my business to bring it up.

  I blow the whistle and call the captain over. He tugs off his helmet, and rakes his hair from his face as he runs toward me. In that moment, my gut twists. The kid reminds me so much of myself back in the day.

  “Hey, Tyler. What’s up?” he says.

  “I want to run some new plays tomorrow. Last night I worked on a few, cleared them with Coach, and I want to go over with the team tomorrow.”

  He spits. “Fuck, I’m glad to hear that. I’m sick of running these same plays. If we want to beat Lincoln, the old man needs to get up to speed already.”

  I glare at him. I’m not much older than these guys, but if I want their respect I have to show them I’m the assistant coach, not their friend. “Coach doesn’t like swearing on the field, Jackson,” I say, my voice harder. “And he’s your coach, not an old man, got it?”

  He straightens. “Right, sorry.”

  “Go,” I say. “Tell the guys we’ll be meeting in the locker room tomorrow morning. Have a chalkboard there for me.”

  “You got it, Coach,” he says, and darts down the field.

  I pick my helmet up from the ground and head toward Coach Ramsey, who’d just called Tanner off the field. He’s the team’s wide receiver, and with a little help could be the best kicker too. From my distance, I can’t hear the conversation, but from the way Tanner is staring at his feet, his shoulders hunched, I’m guessing it’s not a happy conversation.

  I make my way toward them. “Tyler,” Coach says, and from the familiar look on his face, it’s easy to see he’s playing hard-ass right now.

  “Everything okay?” My gaze goes from Coach to Tanner, who keeps pinching the bridge of his nose, like he’s trying to fight back tears.

  “Report cards just came out. If Tanner can’t get his math grade up, he’ll be off the team.” He turns back to Tanner. “Can you ask Mr. Phillips for extra help after class?”

  He shakes his head. “Mr. Phillips is the problem. He doesn’t explain things right. He just ends up confusing me more.” He shakes his head. “Come on, Coach. There must be something you can do. Football is my life.” He pauses and says, “My father will kill me if I get kicked off the team.”

  I nod without thinking. I had Mr. Phillips for math back in the day. The man is brilliant, and should be teaching at a university level. He can’t relate to teens, or teach at their level. Everyone knows it, even Coach. Tanner is a sophomore with mad skills on the field. If we can get this team performing again, he has a real shot at a scholarship, but if he can’t get his math up, that could fuck him over.

  “What about a tutor? Do you know anyone who can help you?”

  “I can’t…I don’t…” I know he’s trying to say he can’t afford it, but is too embarrassed to get the words past his tongue. It was never easy for me to admit those things either. I clear my throat to cut the tension.

  Coach folds his arms and rocks on his feet. “You got something to say, Tyler?”

  “Yeah. I’ll tutor you, Tanner.”

  Tanner’s head lifts, and his eyes go wide. “It’s math,” he says, like I’m an uneducated dickless felon who can’t add two and two.

  I stand eye to eye with him. “Your point.”

  “I…uh…” He cocks his head, and scrubs his hand over his chin. “You any good in math?”

  I scoff at the hit on my intelligence, but I’d taken worse, and really, can I blame the kid? “Hey, it’s no sweat off my balls. Take the offer or don’t. I’m not the one who is about to be kicked off the field and never get a chance at a scholarship.”

  I’m about to leave when he says, “You think I can get a scholarship?”

  The hope in his voice makes me smile. I keep my back to him so he can’t see it. “That’s up to you.”

  “When can we start?” he says quickly before I can leave.

  I turn back. “Tonight I’ll be at the library at UIC. You got wheels?”

  “Bus pass.”

  “Good. Be there for seven and bring copies of all your tests. Oh, and Tanner, we’re going to work on your kicks too.”

  I angle my head and nod to Coach, who’s just standing there glaring at me, arms across his barrel chest. He nods back and I tuck my helmet under my arm.

  “Tyler,” Tanner says.

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks, man, and I uh…didn’t mean to—”

  “Tonight, seven sharp. If you’re one minute late, it’s off.” Yeah, I’m playing hardball, but sometimes that’s what these kids need. It was Coach’s firmness with me on the field that kept me working hard in the class. If I hadn’t kept my grades up, I would have been off the team and no way would I have gotten a scholarship.

  I walk off the field, and make my way inside the school. It’s nearing eight and kids are just starting to file in. I walk to Coach’s office, and tug off my dirty jersey. I need to hit the showers and get to work by nine. I’m looking forward to reading to the kids at the blind school, and putting my translator skills to work.

  I grab my backpack from the floor and when I stand back up, and see Sara watching me from the doorway, her gaze raking over me like a hot caress, I go perfectly still.

  “Hey,” she says, and my body fires at the softness in her words.

  We hadn’t seen each other since Sunday morning, when we made love in her bed and had breakfast together before I snuck out and went home to spend time with my family. Gracie wanted me to take her to the library that afternoon, and I wouldn’t miss that time with her for the world. I have so much time to make up for with her, with everyone. She was beyond excited to help me pick out books for translation. If only she hadn’t picked all those New Adult romance novels. How was I going to keep a straight face reading Pride’s Run—the first in a three-book series she’s anxious for me to read, is beyond me. The book is about an eighteen-year-old girl who’s a werewolf—used as an assassin by a drug lord—and her big escape from the compound with a boy she falls in love with. I groan inwardly at the thoughts of it.

  “Hey yourself,” I say. Jesus, she looks so good, and soft in her professional skirt that showcases long legs I can’t wait to feel wrapped around me again. Fuck man, I need to think about something else before I get a damn hard-on and bend her over this desk and show her just how much I missed her yesterday.

  She leans against the doorjamb, and crosses her legs at the ankle. It draws my focus and my blood roars, my mind tripping back to Saturday, to when I spread her wide open and pushed my tongue high inside her.

  Jesus, get it together, dude. This is neither the time nor place for those kinds of thoughts.

  “I talked to Gracie last night.” Sara has a grin on her face that is so fucking adorable it’s all I can do not to cross the room and kiss it off. As I hunger for her, my mind takes that second to remind me of her father, and my heart rac
es a little faster. I steal a quick glance over my shoulder.

  “Christ.”

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “Dad is still on the field. I can see him from here.”

  “He wouldn’t like us in here alone like this.”

  “I know. You should go.” She angles her body to let me through the doorway. I make my way toward her and that grin returns. “I know how anxious you must be to get to those romance books.”

  “Fuck,” I say and we both laugh. I stand over her, feel her heat reaching out to me. I stifle a groan and say, “Did you have something to do with that?”

  She blinks innocently and puts her hand on her chest. My gaze drops to it for a second, and my cock twitches as her fingers splay over her breasts.

  “Me? What would make you even ask such a thing?”

  I pitch my voice low, and put one hand on the door beside her head. I step close, crowd her, and a breathy little sound escapes her lips. “You’re going to pay for this, Sara.”

  “While I like the sound of that, I really didn’t have anything to do with it. Your sister is a sixteen-year-old girl. Sixteen-year-old girls are thinking about sixteen-year-old boys, Tyler. Whether you like it or not, Gracie is growing up.”

  “No guy is getting near her,” I growl. “He’ll have to go through my brothers and me first.”

  Sara laughs. “Oh, that poor girl. Three overprotective brothers.” She shakes her head and her long hair falls over her shoulders. Unable to help myself, I reach out, coil a strand around my fingers. Her sweet vanilla scent fills the air, and I burn with the need to taste her again. “She’s going to need me around and on her side more than I thought,” Sara says.

  I need her more than she thinks.

  Boots echoing in the hall heralds someone’s approach and I jump back just as Coach rounds the corner. He pauses for a moment, takes in the two of us standing there. Fuck, talking to Sara like this is risky. I’d vowed to her father to stay away from her, and I promised her I’d keep what we’re doing a secret. It’s a promise I plan to keep. Which means, we can’t ever do this again, no matter what. If I see her here, I need to run the other way.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Tyler?” he asks in a hard voice as he delivers a cutting glare.

  As he watches me with narrow eyes, I say, “Yes, Coach. I was just getting my bag when Sara showed up.” I nod to Sara. “Nice to see you again, Sara.”

  “You too,” she says, and I push past her, my body rubbing hers in a promise of things to come.

  “Hey Tyler,” Coach says, and I freeze with my back to him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Yeah”

  “What you did on the field with Tanner.”

  “What about it?”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “Not a problem, Coach,” I say and expel a heavy breath as I walk away. I hear Sara asking what I did as I escape, but her father changes the subject and asks about her date with Caleb. Blood roars through my insides at the sound of his name, but it gives me a measure of comfort to know Sara won’t be seeing him again.

  With that last thought making me happy, I round the corner and hurry to the showers. Once I reach the locker room, I strip off the rest of my gear and rinse off quickly. Today is my first official day of work, and I don’t want to be late. I pull out my dress shirt and pants, tug on my brown leather shoes, and make my way outside, steering clear of Coach’s office—of Sara.

  I shoulder my bag and ease my bike into traffic. The air bites at my bare hands and as much as I hate the idea, it’s time to put my ride away for the winter. I pull into the parking lot and take in the big brick building before me as I shut off my bike. I’d been here before with Gracie. Sara and I both have, actually. It was here my kid sister found friends, fit it, learned to live with her disability.

  I take off my helmet, smooth my hand over my clothes and walk toward the doors. I’m not sure how the staff feels about having a convicted felon working among them. Will they hide their purses, lock away their valuables? I’m not here looking to make friends, but it would be nice to have a good relationship with the staff. I pull open the heavy door and step up to the front desk. I introduce myself to the middle-aged lady tapping away on a keyboard behind the counter. She stops when she sees me, and after I tell her who I am, she directs me to the third floor.

  “Thanks,” I say and tap the counter.

  She gives me a big, welcoming smile. “You have a great day, now.”

  “You too.”

  I pass the elevator and take the stairs instead. I’m not all that fond of enclosed spaces anymore. My legs eat up the stairs two at a time, and I push through the door to see my new workspace. Similar to a library, books line the shelves, and there are round tables set up, a few chairs occupied by a young child, a woman who appears to be her mother, and a man I’m guessing is her father. They’re talking quietly and give me a nod as I pass. At the other end of the room, I spot an employee. She has her back to me, but she’s wearing a vest identifying her as staff.

  “Excuse me,” I say and she spins, her long blond hair falling over her shoulders. She’s young, a little bit younger than me, and looks somewhat familiar. She blinks up at me, her gaze zeroing in on my scar. It doesn’t bother me that she’s staring. I’m used to the reaction by now. “I’m Tyler Barrett. You must be Cassie.”

  “I am,” she says, still blinking at me. I’m good at reading people, but I can’t quite figure out her reaction. Is it that she can’t place me, or is it that she knows me? I’m not sure, but the one thing I do know is that I’m throwing her off her game. Maybe she wasn’t expecting a six-foot cut up man to check in for his first day of work. Or maybe she was.

  “Claudine arranged—”

  “Yes, yes of course,” she says, my words pulling her out of her trance-like state. She glances at her watch. “You took me by surprise, is all. I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

  “I like to make a good impression on the first day,” I say and flash her a grin.

  “That you did,” she says quietly, and holds her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, Tyler. Like I said on the phone, you’ll be shadowing me for the next week, and then we’ll get you set up at your own workstation.” She shrugs. “I know you’ve done this job before, but it’s protocol.”

  “It’s okay by me.”

  She gestures with a nod toward the hall. “How about a tour of the facility first?”

  “I’d love that.” I shrug out of my backpack.

  “Here let me take that for you. We have lockers.” Before I can stop her, she reaches for my bag, and it sinks to the floor like a rock, heavy in her small hands.

  “What do you have in here, a dead body?” she asks, then stiffens. “I mean—”

  “Football practice,” I say, coming to her rescue. I don’t want tension between us. “I’m helping Coach Ramsey out with the team over at Collins High.”

  “Oh really. That’s where I used to go.”

  “I thought you looked familiar.”

  She shakes her head. “No, you wouldn’t remember me. I was a freshman and you were a senior.” Her face lights up as she smiles. “Star of the football team. I went to all your games.”

  “That was a long time ago,” I say and before things get awkward again, I say, “How about that tour?” I bend to take my bag from her and when our hands connect she sucks in a little breath. Shit. I lift my head quickly and she averts her gaze, but I don’t miss the pink in her cheeks. One of two things is happening here. She’s either still infatuated with that young boy from high school—who is long gone—or is now frightened by me. Neither of which bode well for this situation.

  I follow her to the locker and shove my bag inside, then she gives me a tour of our floor. I meet Josh, who is also one of the transcribers. He’s a middle-aged man, and seems friendly enough. My workstation is next to his, with all the technical and computer equipment I need to put books into braille.

  After a tour of our floor, we take the sta
irs, and she shows me the classrooms where activities such as artistic expression take place.

  “Last month we had a Japanese Origami class.”

  “Cool,” I say.

  “Outside of artistic expressions, we also have guide dog user meetings here.”

  “Very similar to the set-up where I was.”

  We go down the hall and she opens the door to a computer lab. “In here we have computer training and private computer sessions. You’re familiar with the adaptive software Jaws, ZoomText, and MaGic?”

  “I am,” I say.

  She arches a brow and coils her hair around her finger. “You might be interested in doing some work in here as well. You can also make extra money private tutoring.”

  “I’m open for anything.”

  She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and turns from me. “Claudine told me you volunteered with the book clubs.”

  “I enjoy reading to the kids.” I ignore the knot tightening in my gut. I missed a lot of time with my little sister, and while reading to the young ones won’t give me my years back with her, it helps make me feel a little less guilty. “Wait, you know Gracie, my sister, right?”

  “Yes, she’s a sweet girl.”

  We walk toward the stairs, and I open the door and gesture for her to go first. “She asked me to pick out some books for the club.”

  She nods. “They have to be approved first.”

  The door closes with a bang, and I follow her down the next flight of stairs. With any luck, they’ll veto them, and I won’t have to read romance out loud to a bunch of girls.

  “She’s in later today after school,” I say. “I’m sure she’ll bring them with her and submit for approval.”

  She shows me around the administrative offices, and our final stop is the kitchen. I’ll have to run out at lunch and grab a bite, since I didn’t pack anything.

  “Coffee?”

  “Yeah, for sure.”