by Desiree Holt
Then out of nowhere, for absolutely no reason at all, a thought burst into his consciousness. He wondered if Miss Sass liked football and ever went to games. Any games.
Oh, right, Chase. Invite her to a kids’ game. Invite her anywhere, for that matter, and she’d probably pop you on the nose.
Her go-to-hell attitude actually made him chuckle. He wasn’t used to women behaving that way around him. He wondered how often she went to work out, then gave himself a mental kick. That thought path led to danger. He only dated women on a casual basis, and he had a feeling nothing was casual with Miss Sass.
He needed to get her out of his head. He had a job to do here. A responsibility. He didn’t need to be distracted with thoughts of a woman he had no intention of seeing again.
What if I run into her again at Pump It Up?
Maybe he’d find someplace else to go. Wait! He’d paid for thirty days. And since when did he give a woman so much significance he went out of his way to avoid her? Damn! But she just had—
“Hey! DeMarco.” Coach Anselm tapped him on the shoulder. “You with us?”
Chase gave himself a mental shake. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”
Fuck! He didn’t need Coach giving him strange looks. With the discipline he’d learned in both football and the Guard, he focused on the boys on the field, making notes on his clipboard to go over with them. The end of the first quarter was announced, and both teams ran off the field to their respective benches. Chase, Coach Anselm, and the other assistant coach huddled with their players, making sure everyone was hydrated and going over the game plan. There was sizzle in the air, just like at any game, no matter the age of the players.
The referee blew his whistle, the signal it was time to get back on the field. The coaches all bumped fists with the kids and sent them back into the game. Chase just happened to glance at the bleachers and nearly dropped his clipboard. Not to mention almost swallowing his tongue. Squeezing in next to Cliff Randall and his wife was Miss Sass herself, as if he’d conjured her up.
He blinked, wondering if this was just a mirage and she’d disappear, but no, there she was, sexier in a loose collared shirt and jeans than the women who favored skintight clothing. How was that even possible? And what was she doing with the Randalls? Was she a friend of Lara Randall’s? Did she—
The shrill blast of a whistle and the announcement of an infraction dragged his attention back to the field and what he was supposed to be doing. But it took every bit of his discipline to focus on the game and not on the stands.
* * * *
Holly did her best to inch her way along the bleacher row as she made her way to the spot next to Cliff and Lara. Cliff steadied her as she stepped over the feet of the person next to him, the one who scooched over to make a little room for her, and helped her into the seat.
“Watch it, kiddo. Tight quarters here.”
“No kidding.” She blew out a breath as she settled herself in the narrow space on the board, opened the bottle of water she’d brought, and took a long swallow.
“Thanks for joining us,” Lara said, leaning slightly across Cliff.
“Of course. I love football, no matter how old the players are.” She shaded her eyes with her hand. “Which one is Tad?”
“Number twenty-seven.” She pointed. “The tight end.”
“Wow! Versatile kid.”
Holly spotted the boy right away, lined up on the left side of the line. She knew how important the tight end was to the game, a player bulky enough to block yet agile enough to catch a pass when needed.
“We’re pretty damn proud of him,” Lara said.
Then anything else was lost as the ball was snapped, number twenty-seven blocked for the quarterback as he threw a short pass, and the receiver gained decent yardage. Holly clapped her hands and cheered along with the Randalls.
“At lot of his success is due to the assistant coach,” Cliff told her. “He has a real gift for working with the kids.”
“He sure does,” Lara agreed. “Look.” She pointed down to the field. “That’s him with the red ball cap. He wears it so the kids can see him when he sends in signals.”
Holly looked at the field and nearly fell off the bench, which would have been a neat trick considering how they were all packed in like sardines. She had been so focused on the kids she’d paid little attention to the men on the sidelines. She blinked, twice, hardly believing what she saw.
She elbowed Cliff. “What’s that guy’s name?”
“Which guy? The one talking to the kids? That’s Coach Anselm. He’s the head coach.”
“No, I mean the guy in the red ball cap with the clipboard.” And why did she even care, for heaven’s sake?
“Oh. That’s Chase DeMarco, an assistant coach. Anselm says he played on a state championship team in high school and never lost his understanding of the game. He’s excellent with the kids. I’ll introduce you to him afterward.”
Startled, she dropped her water bottle but grabbed it before it rolled off onto the ground. Great. Just what she needed. Mr. Hot Guy here.
Heat crept up her cheeks, and she cursed herself for blushing. Geez, Holly. Awkward much? If the Randalls noticed, she hoped they’d think it was from her clumsiness and no other reason. Well of course, dipshit. What else would they think? They had no idea she knew Mr. Hot Guy. And if she did, so what? It wasn’t as if they were more than nodding acquaintances. In fact, they were hardly even that.
“Holly?” Cliff frowned. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Uh, yeah. No, thanks. Anyway, just—no, thanks.”
She busied herself opening the water bottle and taking a drink. What on earth were the odds that she’d see him here? That he’d be one of the coaches? Well, damn. She’d watch the game with her friends and cheer at the appropriate places, especially for young Tad Randall. Then she’d go on home and try to pretend she hadn’t seen Hot Guy again.
Try? What was wrong with her? She could ignore whoever she wanted. There was no rule that said she couldn’t. In fact, she’d made an art form out of it. No man got to her that way anymore. Period. Finito.
Yeah, right. Exactly who was she trying to convince? Because obviously she wasn’t doing too well convincing herself. As if parts of her body operated independently, her nipples tightened, the walls of her sex throbbed, and her panties were damp with the sudden flow of juices. She even felt a weakness in her thighs and a slight acceleration in her pulse.
What the fuck? She had much more control than this. She’d been practicing it ever since The Incident, as she’d come to call it. Even if she met a guy who turned her on, she never let him know unless and until she was ready to spend some time in her bed with him. Which seemed to be happening less and less.
“Oh, hey! Holly, look at that.” Cliff jumped up. “Come on, Tad.”
“What? What?” Holly stared out at the field.
Suddenly all around her people were on their feet, blocking her view and screaming. Cliff and Lara were yelling and waving their arms.
“That’s it, Tad,” Cliff shouted.
“Go, go, go,” Lara shrieked.
When Holly dragged her eyes away from Mr. Hot Guy, she saw number twenty-seven with the ball tucked into his body, chased by the defenders but pumping his legs to outrun them. When he crossed the goal line, the crowd went nuts, at least those cheering for the Strykers. Cliff and Lara were hugging and shouting. Down on the field the Strykers had gathered around twenty-seven and were pounding him, shouting and laughing.
Cliff even pulled Holly in for a tight hug. “That’s my boy,” he kept repeating. “That’s my boy.”
As she looked over his shoulder she saw Chase DeMarco waving the kids off the field as the players lined up for the extra point. As each player ran to the sidelines, he fist-bumped and patted shoulders and grinned madly at them. This was a man who obviously loved kids and loved football. She wanted him to have flaws so she didn’t daydream over hi
m. She hadn’t done that in a long time. That way was nothing but disappointment, and she was done with that. But damn! Mr. Hot Good Guy?
She didn’t seem to be able to keep her eyes away from him, no matter how she tried. Holy damn! No, holy shit! Adara was right. He was a mouthwatering sight. But not for her. She knew better.
Forget it, Holly. Just enjoy the game.
The extra point was good, and Chase and the other two coaches huddled with the team before they had to trot out on the field again.
Holly sat down, squeezing in between Cliff and the person on the other side of her, catching her breath. She hadn’t been to a game in so long she’d forgotten what the excitement was like. It didn’t matter that it was a youth league. The game itself got her totally hyped. Some of her best memories were of watching games with her dad. She was glad she’d accepted Cliff’s invitation.
Sending a strongly worded message to her hormones, which had decided to do another happy dance, she focused on the game, on the players, on the excitement on the field. She did her very best to ignore a specific coach who strode the sidelines sending in signals to the team.
It got a little easier to ignore him as the game became more exciting, holding her attention. The lead seesawed back and forth several times, both teams fighting furiously for the victory. The parents and friends in the stands were going crazy, cheering and yelling and hugging each other. Holly loved the atmosphere here. She’d missed that living across the country from her family and friends.
But it was a necessity.
Deliberately she forced thoughts of Mr. Hot Guy from her mind and focused on the game, jumping up and down and screaming at the success of each play. When the game ended with a Strykers win, she screamed as loud as anyone and hugged both Cliff and Lara.
“The place will be crazier than ever tonight,” Lara told her with a grin. “I’m glad Cliff invited you to join us, but I hope you’re prepared for it. Don’t be afraid to change your mind.”
Holly grinned. “Noise doesn’t bother me. I was raised with a bunch of male cousins who never grew up. The pickup football games in the backyard would make these kids sound like they were whispering.”
“Good.” Lara nodded. “Because we really are glad you’re coming with us. It may not be the social life you’re used to, but I told Cliff I’d love to get to know you better.” Then she laughed. “Not that we’ll have too much opportunity for conversation tonight, but we’ll try.”
“It’ll be fun,” Holly assured her.
“They’re almost finished with the postgame on the field, so we need to collect our star player, but Cliff’s texting you the name and address of the pizza place. See you there.”
Holly thought about waiting until the stands had cleared out more before making her way down and out to the parking area. Then she decided moving with the crowd made it less likely she’d have accidental contact with Mr. Hot Guy. It wasn’t that she wanted to avoid him. She was just…avoiding him.
He’s just a guy like all the others. You don’t need him or them.
She climbed down the bleachers, jostled slightly by the crowd around her, jumping the last couple of feet to the ground. As she reached into her pocket for her keys, someone bumped into her, and she looked up in automatic reflex. And stared into the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. Ocean blue, she thought.
“Excuse me.” His voice was smooth, like finely aged whiskey. “I think now it’s my turn to ask if you’re going to move.”
Holly stood rooted to the ground, mesmerized by those blue eyes, while all around her people swarmed to their vehicles, many with their kids in tow. She could have sworn electricity zapped the air around her, but maybe that was just the lightning bugs out in the dusk of the evening. At least she hoped it was. She opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out.
“Or maybe,” he went on, “I could ask if you’re stalking me.”
With a great determined effort of will, she pulled herself together. No electricity, she told herself. No nothing. It was all her imagination. Guys like this one were trouble with a capital T. She didn’t even like him. Right? Right?
“I’m so sorry. I was just startled to see you here.” Smooth, Holly. Say excuse me and get yourself out of the way.
“No more than I am to see you. I—”
“Hey, Chase.” The man Cliff had told her was the head coach was hollering at them. “Got a second over here?”
“Coming,” Chase answered. He looked back at Holly and murmured, “Sorry,” before he jogged away.
Holly gave herself a mental kick and headed toward her car. Great. Just great. The first time she sees this guy she’s Bitch Number One and the second she’s Tongue-tied Tessie. She wanted to tell him she was neither of those, but then she wondered why the hell she even cared. The best men were the ones who didn’t push any of her buttons. She was past all that.
Still, as she drove, following the GPS directions to the restaurant, she couldn’t help wondering what Mr. Hot Guy was really like.
Chapter 4
By the time they got to the pizza parlor almost everyone else had arrived and taken over all the tables. Not a problem, because they’d given their game schedule to Nate, the owner, and he’d made sure there was plenty of room for them. His son, now a junior in college, had played on a Pop Warner team, so the kids had a special place in his heart.
“I hear they won tonight.” Nate greeted Chase at the door. “Good for them.”
“Yeah.” Chase grinned. “You know this is worse than a sugar high.” He turned to the couple who had come in behind him. “Nate, this is my friend, John, and his friend, Amy. I figured they might like a little spice in their lives.”
“So you dropped them in the middle of kid hysteria?” Nate laughed. “Hope they survive.” He waved at the crowded tables. “You’d better get moving or all the pizza will be gone.”
“Thanks for everything you do for us.” Chase shook the man’s hand and moved into the big room, motioning for Amy and John to follow him. “We need to go to the counter and place our orders, then find some empty seats. Come on.”
As usual, the restaurant was jam packed with players, friends, parents, and relatives. The noise level was about what he expected with a win to celebrate. He paused at each table to shake hands and either clap the kids on the shoulder or bump fists. This was three wins in a row for the Strykers, and everyone was running on an adrenaline high.
He did his best to introduce John and Amy to people as they wove their way from table to table. Thank God neither of them had a problem with shyness and more than held their own, because victory made everyone boisterous tonight. Finally he saw Cliff Randall waving at him from a table in the back and pointing to three empty seats. Chase managed to get them squeezed in there, introducing John and Amy as they did so. There were empty chairs tipped against the table, indicating where the kids would sit when the food arrived.
Anne Marie and Gig Sprouls smiled at him, and he nodded to Cliff and his wife, Lara, holding down the end of the table. There was an empty chair tipped up next to Lara.
“Did you bring one of the other kids?” he asked. “I thought you’d decided they were both still too young.”
“This is for a friend of ours,” Cliff told him. “A fellow firefighter I talked into coming to the game. She’ll be right back.”
“In fact,” Lara said, “here she is now. Everyone, say hi to Holly Funchess.”
Chase wondered if his eyes actually bugged out of his head. Was he seeing things? Miss Sass here? At their pizza party? Seeing her at the game had been a shock in itself, but he didn’t figure this kind of thing to be something she’d get into. And holy shit! Had Cliff said she was a firefighter?
A firefighter. Right. A female firefighter. He was not going to get the hots for a woman doing a man’s job.
Don’t be a damn sexist, you ass. There are a lot of women firefighters.
A chorus of “hi” and “hello
” broke into his mental conversation. Chase stared at Holly for a long moment before saying, “Miss Funchess and I have met before.”
Cliff frowned. “You have? Holly, you didn’t say you know Coach.”
She lifted her shoulders in a light shrug. “We’ve met. Sort of.”
“Holly.” Cliff leaned forward. “I just want to mention how lucky we are to have Chase coaching the kids. He doesn’t brag about it, but in high school he was a safety on an all-star state championship high school football team.”
“Oh?” She lifted an eyebrow. “That’s interesting.”
Yeah, right, Chase wanted to say. She sounded as if it was anything but and looked at him as if she wished he’d disappear.
“He also played on the Coast Guard Academy team,” John added, and grinned. “He’s a big shot commander in the Guard now.”
“John.”
There was a distinct warning tone to Chase’s voice. He wanted to smack the big shit-eating grin off John McFarland’s face. The man knew he hated people putting him in the spotlight.
“Is that so?” She flicked a quick glance at Chase. “I wasn’t aware he was a celebrity.”
Lara laughed. “He tells me we’re the only ones who think so, although I don’t know what the team would do without his knowledge and experience.”
“You got that right,” Gig Sprouls added. “Our son thinks he hung the moon.”
“He does?” Holly quirked an eyebrow. “Um, well, that’s impressive.”
“Not nearly as impressive as it sounds. I’m happy to help.” Chase had the uncomfortable feeling she was mocking him. He wished everyone would shut up. Time for a change of subject. “So, was that a great victory tonight, or what?”
“Yeah, what did you think, Holly?” Lara asked.
“They did good.” Her eyes lit up, and her lips curved in a smile. “I enjoyed watching them.”
