Tyler slammed his butt down on the bench next to his cousin. He snatched a sports drink from a rookie and guzzled it down, not seeming to notice as it dribbled down his cheeks. For once, appearance-conscious Tyler didn’t seem to give a shit how he looked to the TV cameras.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Tyler wadded the cup into a ball and shot it into the nearby garbage can.
Funny how when he was pissed, he always said fuck in threes. It must have more impact that way.
Dante Reed, a veteran wide receiver, advanced on Tyler, looking ready to do battle. Not good. Frowning, Derek positioned himself within easy grabbing distance to break up a fight and braced himself.
“You threw a perfect pass on the last play. Too bad it was to the other team. Try hitting me in the numbers or even within five yards of the numbers, asshole, so I stand a rat’s ass chance of catching the damn ball.”
“Go to hell.” Tyler flipped Dante off but kept his butt on the bench.
“Yeah, tough guy. You’re real hot. Quit shooting off your mouth and put effort into your play instead.”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed. Derek laid a steadying hand on his shoulder to hold him down. “Ty, we’re all on the same team.”
“Reed, you’re a fuckhead. Fucking arrogant bastard. Fuck you.” Tyler’s voice was quiet but deadly.
Dante shrugged, not the least bit impressed. “You might try adding a few more words to your vocabulary.”
“Fuck you.”
“I know. You said that. You’re getting redundant. Just like your interceptions.”
“Fu— Go to hell.”
“Not very original, but at least it’s a start.” Dante turned away. A couple of his buddies snickered.
Tyler started to stand. Derek pushed him back down. “Don’t do it, Ty. Keep your cool. He’s getting to you on purpose. Trying to fire you up. Let it work to your advantage.” Derek acknowledged the defense jogging off the field. “Get out there.”
“Fine, whatever.” Tyler snatched up his helmet in one angry motion and crammed it on his head as he ran onto the field. The crowd booed their displeasure at his return to the game.
A couple of plays later, the team deep in their own territory, Coach came over. “Spell Dante for a few plays. See if you can get your hotheaded cousin to calm down and throw the fucking ball to the right team.”
Nodding, Derek ran to the huddle.
He caught a short pass on a slant route for five yards, then watched Tyler get sacked for a loss the next play. Dante came back on the field, sending him to the sidelines.
Derek warmed the bench the remainder of the game while his team lost without him.
~ ~ ~ ~
Rachel walked through the door of HughJack’s office and glanced around the room. HughJack and Coach Carter sat comfortably drinking coffee at the round table by the big window overlooking the practice facility. HughJack’s gaze narrowed as he watched her enter. Something was up. They could be firing her, hiring her full-time, or anything in between. Nervous, she walked with short, tentative steps, afraid she’d turn an ankle. Right on schedule, she stumbled just before she reached the table.
HughJack reached out and grasped her arm to steady her. “Are you okay?”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks, but she managed a composed smile, thanks to Cass’s schooling and her new coat of armor. “I’m sorry. I’m accident-prone.”
HughJack glanced down at a small bandage wrapped around her index finger. He nodded and shook her hand.
He motioned to a seat across the table, and they sat down. “I’m guessing you’re curious why we’re meeting with you and not the other coaches.”
“Very curious.” She wrapped herself in a cocoon of cool professionalism and waited for them to make the next move.
“You’re aware, of course, that since Coach Wright resigned, Coach Carter has been doubling as a receiver coach with your assistance.”
She nodded, not feeling deserving of the compliment. She’d been an observer and made suggestions, but she’d done zero real coaching.
“I found it curious and did a little digging. It’s unfortunate about your father.”
“He’s innocent.” The words tumbled out too fast, but she didn’t regret them.
“This isn’t about that.” HughJack’s expression didn’t change. “He’s a great football mind. You have quite a football background. In fact, it’s your passion.”
“It is. My aspiration is to be a coach or a pro scout.”
“I understand all about passion, Rachel. I also understand how hard it is to be a woman in this league.”
“You do?”
“My wife is an athletic trainer for the Steelheads.”
“I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t. She uses her maiden name because she wants to make it on her own merits. There’s more. It just so happens Marc Brent and I played college ball together.” Marc Brent was her former boss at the college she worked at in Oregon.
HughJack nodded. “He sings your praises, says you have the most incredible football mind.”
“For a woman.”
“I didn’t say that, nor did he.”
“But you thought it.” Rachel smiled, surprised by her boldness, but HughJack didn’t seem to mind.
HughJack smiled too. “We’re going to need your help.”
“Anything I can do.” Elation slid through her. They weren’t firing her. This had to be good, really, really good.
“Coach Carter tells me that the observations you’ve made and suggestions you’ve given him are spot-on.”
“You saw things I didn’t see,” Carter added.
“Then it occurred to me. If you were a man, you’d have come to us with coaching experience at some larger universities, but you’re a woman, and you haven’t been presented with those opportunities. I realize I’ve been just as guilty. I’ve judged you on your gender, not your abilities. No more. I pride myself on hiring the best man or woman for the job—any job. I’m giving you a chance. You’re going to assume a coaching internship, and you’ll work closely with Coach Carter. We have openings for both an assistant coach and a pro scout. You’re a consideration for both. Despite your inexperience, we can’t let someone with your eye go.”
“Oh, oh, you won’t be sorry. I promise.” Rachel started to gush and snapped her mouth shut. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
“There’s something else,” Coach Carter hedged.
Rachel held her breath. Here came the catch. She should’ve known there was a catch.
~ ~ ~ ~
Derek strode down the hall from the locker room heading to the film room, where he’d be meeting Tyler for a night of dissecting the defense they’d be playing this Sunday.
Rachel called to him, and he half turned, waiting for her to catch up. His gaze swept over her long, trim body. Something was different about her. He’d noticed it earlier, but today he could really see it. The coaching uniform of dockers and polos was the same, but her clothes fit better. She usually wore clothes a size too big. She sure as hell hadn’t been lately. Her glossy dark hair pulled back in a ponytail had streaks of red in it, which he hadn’t noticed before. She’d never been one for makeup, but he could see the subtle hints of it on her face, enhancing her already delicate features and enlarging those gorgeous eyes.
He couldn’t prevent the slow smile from spreading across his face. She was so fondly familiar yet so intriguingly different, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about his insane attraction to her. He’d left her once, broken her heart, and walked away. This time, he suspected his own heart might be vulnerable to an impossible situation. He’d noticed the differences today in practice. She’d been more vocal, actually involving herself as a coach rather than an observer. Coach Carter had conferred with her several times. Her new role with the team made any kind of interest he had in her even more foolhardy.
Coaches didn’t fraternize with players on a personal level, and they sure as hell didn’t have th
e kind of relationship he’d been fantasizing about every night. And that’s where his fantasies would stay. In his head and alone in his bed.
Rachel was off-limits. Derek had a mission. Resurrecting his career, not his long-ago broken relationship with Rachel.
Yeah, well, tell all that to his dick and his body. Neither was on board with the program. His head would have to override any nonsense from the rest of his body parts.
Good luck with that.
“Could I have a word with you—privately?”
His body reacted swiftly with all systems go. He tamped down his eagerness and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
“This way.”
He followed her down the hall to one of the conference rooms and took a seat at the table. After shutting the door, she didn’t sit but stood and paced back and forth a few circuits before stopping in front of him. He looked up at her, unable to stop himself from taking a leisurely trip up her body in the process. She shot him a glare, and he had the decency to look away, feeling his face grow warm. He deserved that. She was his coach, damn it, and she deserved the respect he gave to any other coach.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“This is so not a good idea,” she said with a heavy sigh.
He wasn’t sure what this was, but he would probably agree. Anything that put them in a private room together was a bad idea.
“I suppose you’ve noticed I’ve been taking a more active role with the team lately.”
“I’ve noticed. And congratulations by the way. I know it’s not easy for a woman to make it in football, especially coaching.”
“Thank you.” She met his gaze and abruptly looked away. “This is going to be difficult.”
He didn’t respond, merely waited her out. He didn’t have a clue what might be difficult. Them being around each other every day? Definitely. Her being a coach to some of the Neanderthals on the team? Probably. His role in her father’s demise? Possibly.
“I’ve been put into what I’d call an assistant coach trainee role. It’s a dream come true, Derek. Opportunities like this come along once in a lifetime. It’s hard enough for a man to break into the pro coaching ranks, let alone a woman, and a younger woman at that. This team is taking a chance on me, and I can’t let them down.”
He nodded, not sure what any of this had to do with him. He’d always been supportive of her goals and dreams. “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure the guys toe the line and give you the proper respect. You know I’ve always believed in you.”
She turned away from him briefly, shielding her reaction to his words. When she turned back around, the cold, professional Rachel was firmly in place.
“The coaches have given me a task, really, a mission. This is a test of my worthiness. Everything is riding on my success—and yours.”
“Mine?” He pointed at his chest to verify she was actually talking about him.
“Yes,” she flopped down in the chair across from him as if her legs would no longer hold her and put her head in her hands. Her guard was down; all pretenses were gone. This was his buddy Rachel and no one else right now.
“What’s the mission?”
“To fix you.” She looked up and met his gaze with narrowed eyes and a gritty determination.
“Fix me?”
“Yes. Coach you to realize your potential. Make you the number one receiver on this team, which is where you should be, not number five.”
“And how are you supposed to do that?” Especially when he hadn’t been able to figure out how to fix himself.
“I’m to work with you outside of regular practice hours.”
Chapter 8—Reading the Defense
Rachel adopted her best no-nonsense pose in her formfitting tracksuit. It wasn’t easy to feel a level of comfort in these clothes. Tight wasn’t her thing. She wondered if she’d ever get used to them. Cass had a knack for finding dirt-cheap clothes in all sorts of places, from bargain basement sales to secondhand stores. A silver whistle, courtesy of Coach Carter, hung around her neck.
Derek stood several feet away, hands on hips, legs braced slightly apart. He watched her as if he didn’t know her anymore. She wasn’t sure she knew herself. Her manner of dress seemed to instill a wariness in Derek that kept him at arm’s length, another excellent reason to continue with Cass’s makeover. Nothing could ruin her shot at the big leagues, not even this stupid thing between them.
The Derek standing in front of her wasn’t the Derek she’d known and certainly wasn’t the one she’d slept with. He was just as hot, if not hotter. He’d grown into a fine specimen of a man, and every time she glanced at him, she felt it—that something between them that made her pulse race and heart beat a little faster while waking up her lady parts. She was hyperaware of the power contained in his athlete’s body because she’d been the grateful recipient of that power during that long, passion-laden weekend. The weekend she could never forget, yet somehow had to forget. She couldn’t keep looking at this man and picturing him naked, or even worse, coming inside her. She had to stop thinking about how his face looked when he succumbed to that sweet release and took her with him. This crap had to stop. She had a job to do, one that could very well be insurmountable. That was why she was here, not to undress him or fantasize about sex with him, but to fix him.
And she would fix him or die trying.
Derek had always had this easygoing confidence about him, but she hadn’t seen much of that since she’d joined the team. They had to get that back somehow. She’d done research, and she had a plan.
“I’m fucking tired of standing around. Let’s do something.” Tyler stood about ten feet away, jaws moving with a steady stream of complaints as he tossed a football in the air.
“He bitches like an old woman.” Derek winked at Rachel, and she nodded agreement, grateful for the distraction of Tyler’s potty mouth.
“Hey, I heard that,” Tyler groused. “This is fucking stupid. A fucking waste of time. I can’t believe we’re doing this. This is fucking junior high stuff. Peewee football shit. Basic crap. We’re way beyond this.”
“You’re never beyond the basics, Grandma. Quit your griping,” Derek shot back. Tyler flipped him the bird.
Derek laughed and turned to Rachel, ignoring the white noise caused by Tyler’s incessant grumbling. “Okay, boss, what’s next?”
Rachel outlined the next exercise she wanted them to run. “Ty, I want you to stand five yards away. Toss the ball both overhead and low. Derek, practice turning different ways and catching the ball. Keep your eyes on the point of the ball.”
“You’re fucking kidding me?” Tyler snorted from his post a few yards away. “I could run these piece-of-shit drills in my sleep.”
“Then shut your eyes and do it!” She’d never found Tyler the least bit intimidating. She’d figured him out long ago. His bluster and badass attitude concealed a very confused and insecure person. People rarely spared the time to scratch beneath his surface to see the real person underneath. They took him at face value and loved to hate him. He reveled in perpetuating the asshole myth and encouraged the hatred, basking in the attention.
Derek, on the other hand, just wanted everyone to love him, like a big, faithful dog. Together they’d been the best players her father had ever produced. The thought of her father gave her a sick feeling in her stomach, but she didn’t have time for that right now.
Rachel blew her whistle. “A hundred times. Get started, boys. We don’t have all night.” Frowning, Tyler looked at his cousin. “I don’t remember her being this bossy.”
“She is now.” Derek sighed and took his position.
For the next couple of hours, Tyler tossed the ball, and Derek caught it. Rachel blew her whistle and gave orders. The guys worked until sweat dripped off their brows and left wet patches on their T-shirts. Once they settled in, Tyler went right to work, perfectionist that he was. It didn’t matter if he was lobbing a short pass or throwing a bomb, he took each pass as seriously as a touchdow
n pass in a regular season game. He berated his cousin for every dropped ball and bobbled pass. Rachel let him talk. She wouldn’t be there to shut him up during a game. Afterward, they stood together and discussed the results. His routes needed to be crisper, quicker, near perfect. They’d made a step in that direction, but the destination was a long way off.
“Thanks, Rae.” Derek grinned at her, a little of the old confidence shining in his eyes. Her heart flip-flopped, and she smiled back.
Tyler smacked her on the back. “You’re all right. You know that? You can be my coach any day.”
Rachel stumbled, but Derek was ready. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her to him. Tyler watched them both with sharp, knowing eyes and a smirk on his lips. For once, he held his tongue.
Rachel’s gazed automatically went to Derek. She couldn’t help it. His warm hand burned his touch onto her skin. It’d already been imprinted onto her brain, and she’d never be able to shake it. His eyes were warm and inviting, and she wanted to accept his invitation with everything inside her. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t speak. Nothing made sense. There weren’t any words worthy of filling the silence between them because their bodies were doing all the talking. She leaned into him momentarily, and a slow, sexy smile lifted the corners of his mouth. They were so close. Only a few more inches and they’d be kissing.
“Hey, you two. Get a fucking room,” Tyler growled.
Startled out of her trance, Rachel pushed away from Derek. He dropped his arm from around her, almost as if he’d forgotten it was there. She’d bet her last Peanut M&M that her expression mirrored Derek’s, guilty as charged.
Tyler threw back his head and howled. “You two are so fucking pathetic. Just hop in the sack and get it over with. Nobody needs to know.” Turning, he sauntered to his car. His laughter drifted on the evening breeze.
~ ~ ~ ~
Derek stood near the bench, his gaze drifting to Rachel standing in front of him, discussing something with Coach Carter. Her glossy hair, the color of his father’s antique mahogany desk, was in her customary ponytail. He wanted to wrap that ponytail around his hand and pull her head back, giving him access to her elegant neck. Even better, he’d gently push her to her knees and use the ponytail to guide her to his—
Kickoff Page 6
